Very few people know I suffer from this mental illness and thinking back I don’t ever remember a time throughout my life where I hadn’t been suffering, I did a very good job of hiding it for 25 years. I didn’t realise I had been suffering with it up until about 2 and a half years ago. It seems amazing now that I did nothing about it for well over a year.
After a couple of high profile suicides that were well
publicised in the media, namely Gary Speed, it got me thinking and assessing
where is the starting point for the internal struggles that would lead someone
to ending their own life. It became apparent to me that I was more than likely
well along the road to killing myself, although I had never had any of these
thoughts, there were times that I felt incredibly ‘low’ and frustrated with my
life for absolutely no reason at all. I had a great life, I had a good graduate
job, an amazing Girlfriend, Charlotte, who I loved, and loved me back hugely, a
full and active lifestyle in the centre of Bath and a strong stable and loving
family. It was this realisation that I had no ‘reason’ to feel like I did that
I decided I needed help.
I made an appointment with my Doctor and while I found it so
unbelievably hard to open up to anyone for the first time, but he was very
understanding and suggested a course of CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy).
This would be done online as I was working away from home in London it wouldn’t
have a possibility to seek a face to face course in the local area.
This brings me onto my first and most frequent symptom, not
being able to concentrate on anything and constantly feeling on edge. In many
ways this is more anxiety than depression but this manifests itself when I am
depressed in the strongest of ways. This became so bad, and I suppose along
with tinge of being frightened of dealing with the issue, as it was so hard to
admit I had a problem, I got no further than my first 30 minutes of my online
CBT.
In admitting my mental state to myself on a small level, and
being able to open up about it to my girlfriend was enough to start. For a good
couple of months ‘just being happier’ got me by but never dealt with the
underlying issue.
For no reason whatsoever a good 9 months later I started my
deepest darkest spiral. My life had in many ways got better, I had bought a
lovely old cottage in a quite village just outside of Bath and was now working
locally so I could spend more time with Charlotte and friends. I was going out cycling more often, which I find
the best way of maintaining a decent level of ‘normalness’. I say this as it
doesn’t get me out of a depressive state on its own, but with structured
training and racing schedules I believe it keeps me on the ‘rails’ I guess.
I knew something was up when out on a Sunday club cycle
ride, which usually is one of my highlights of my week, I just did not want to
be there. This happened for a couple of weeks and steadily got worse. At the
same time I could not relax, every second of everyday seemed like I had an
endless list of vitally important things, jobs, tasks and chores to do. But at
3pm on A Sunday afternoon when I actually had nothing to do my heart was
beating out of my chest, my fingers were tingling and I couldn’t stop changing
channels on the TV as nothing was of interest to me. Which was totally mad as
there was at least 2 live rugby games, a live football match and a live cycle
race as well as Friday nights movie on the sky+ box. But nothing at all
interested me and nothing could get me to relax. Not for the first time, but
certainly with the most conviction, I went to bed that night and prayed that I
wouldn’t wake up in the morning. It might amaze some of you that there is a
physical aspect to depression and really highlights that its not just about
‘being happier’.
A week or so later was my worst I had ever been, and I never
want to go there again. Although I have accepted that this might happen I am
beginning to make my own personal strategies to get me through such times. I
had a dental appointment to a check up on my teeth that I had knocked out in a
cycling accident a year ago. With work running on and traffic I was late by
about 15 minutes. I had even rang the surgery let them know I was late but when
I got there the receptionist said I could not be seen and had to make another
appointment.
I had a course the following day a good 150 miles away and
had a room in a hotel booked close by so I didn’t have to drive that in the
morning. I went home to quickly pack a bag so I could get to the hotel in time
for dinner. To add to my already heightened state I couldn’t find any clean
shirts for the following day, I was for some reason frightened of the thought
of driving and I was angry, again for no
reason, at Charlotte being away on half term holiday as she is a primary school
teacher. And then I just flipped.
I can’t describe the emotions I had in that moment. It was
hatred, of myself and the world. It was unhappiness, like the feeling your
heart had just dropped but was constantly falling. It was hopelessness that
this is what my life was always going to be like. It was physical rage, I
ripped my favorite shirt of my chest and threw it in the washing basket which I
then kicked and stamped on up and down my landing. It was embarrassment at the
view of myself in the bathroom mirror. It was shame for letting ‘everyone’
down. And most crucially it was the end.
The raw physical emotions of it all did not go away, but
decreased in amplitude. I sent a message to my girlfriend to say I couldn’t
take it anymore. I got into my car and headed off to my hotel imaging people
finding me dead in the morning, and that thought was comforting to me. I can’t
understand how that thought can do that, but it did, my girlfriend rang me and
I put the phone down on her. The car journey is a blur, I don’t remember what
happened. All I know is I managed to get to my hotel in time for dinner and
went to bed and got up for my course in the morning. Thankfully I didn’t make
any attempt on my own life and blocked out what had happened. I had managed to
suppress what I had been feeling for as long as I could remember anyway and
doing so until I made a doctor’s appointment would be sufficient. My doctor has
helped me help myself and I am making good progress in all aspects of my life.
From now on when people ask what depression is like for me
on a day to day basis I tell them it’s hatred,
it’s hopelessness, it’s physical rage, it’s embarrassment, it’s shame,
it’s not enjoying anything, it’s not being able to concentrate, it’s not being
able to relax, it’s all of these things all the time but at varying levels of
intensity and consciousness, and not being able to do anything about it. But
fortunately you can do things about it, and thankfully I have. I am still
depressed, I still get ‘low’ and I accept that and can for the most part deal
with it and in between times I feel better, I am more confident and happy and a
very different person. But not all the time, yet.
I stumbled across Time to Change which is an anti-stigma
campaign run by the leading mental health charities Mind and Rethink Mental
Illness on twitter a while ago. They are running a 'It's Time to Talk' campaign
this August and are asking people to talk, listen and share. Our bodies, our
minds can become unwell, so starting a conversation about mental health is
important. It helps people to recover. It can strengthen a relationship between
friends, family and colleagues. And it starts to take the taboo out of
something that affects us all.
A big part of the problem is the stigma surrounding
depression, and other mental illnesses, as it creates a barrier to
acknowledgement and treatment and that is the sole reason why I have written
this piece. I don’t want sympathy or a personal reaction. But I want people to
understand and respect that it happens to people you may not expect it to,
possibly even you. I doesn’t always happen for a reason. It is just a physical
problem as heart disease, cancer or gonorrhoea. It’s not something that can’t be
addressed.
I am really thankful to a lot of people who have helped me.
Whether they know that I have depression or not, people have helped me. From
those who I cycle with at the weekends to the strangers in the street who give
you a glancing smile, theywho have no idea of what’s going on inside me but
have made a positive difference. Special thanks go Charlotte who has been so
supportive, my parents and my Doctor for guiding me to a point where I can
write so openly.
I have already found just writing this liberating in many
ways. The thought right this second of publishing this on my blog is
exhilarating as I am no longer afraid of living with my illness.
