Small victories.

I've been off work for a few weeks. During that time I tried not to work at all. Emphasis on tried. I mostly succeeded.

Now I'm back I'm setting achievable goals each day rather than risk being blindsided by the enormity of some of the projects I'm responsible for.

Today I ticked one off. Actually make that two.

Small victories.

And it feels good.

Finding the words.

I have so much I want to say but it's all a bit overwhelming. If I start I'm scared I won't stop. That I'll open the floodgates/ Pandora's Box/ some other over used metaphor. Add to that the fact that I seem to be losing my words. The tools that keep me going. I hope someone is getting a kick out of this because there's not much enjoyment in it for me.

For the next 10 days I'm going to write down all the things I think of that fuck up my head and then share them with my counsellor when we meet.

I can't even think of an interesting way to finish this post. So I'll leave it there. And go to bed.

Larkin around

This Be The Verse has played over and over inside my head for the past few weeks. Ever since my counselling began in fact. Not because I'm looking for someone to blame for how I feel (what would be the point in that) but because I recognise that family traits and patterns can become ingrained in our psyche. Some times these characteristics are positive, other times destructive. Many of us have no doubt experienced that flinch inducing comment "You're just like your Mum/Dad" - especially when directed at us in a less than flattering context.

There may be some truth in Larkin's poem, written the year I was born, however that doesn't have to mean my future is set in stone. It's time to break the cycle. After all I've already had a kid; for her sake I need to make a change.

Perfection is the enemy of happiness. And control is the armour of the unhappy.

The best thing about real friends is they don't shy away from saying what they think, or from making light of a difficult situation. Such as "Well at least your posts on Facebook are a good way to get plenty of likes". If you're not one of my best friends, don't even think about saying this to me. My posts are not a cry for sympathy. Sometimes they are a whimper for help. But I don't need you to feel sorry for me. Honestly all I hope is that anyone who hasn't suffered with depression gains a little understanding of how it can affect people. And for anyone that has suffered to know you're not alone.

After feeling that I was making some progress over the past few months I had a minor set back this weekend. Triggered I'm sure by my first proper counselling session.

Each time I meet with a mental health professional I have to complete a questionnaire which determines the possible severity of my depression. The scale works from green, through blue, yellow, orange and red; the aim is to be in the green zone. I'm currently top red. Like many people my counsellor observed that my score wasn't reflected in the way I come across. That my exterior projects a happy, confident person. I've worn this mask for a long time and it fits so well that it's starting to shock me when I reveal what's beneath. In his words, "You really are a work in progress".

I need a lot of help but I still feel I'm wasting people's time. That I should just snap out of it. That there are so many people in the world who need medical attention more than I do. I have all my limbs. I can work. I have a family that loves me (in the main). I'm physically fit.

However mentally I'm broken.

Facing the reasons why I feel like I do is not easy. Actually, it's more about having to say them out loud to someone else. There's nowhere to hide.  My counselling session was emotionally exhausting. I had to admit to things that are hurtful, that make me vulnerable and cause me to feel ashamed. I felt embarrassed and upset. And that's why I need to do this because a lack of confidence can be a killer. Literally (that's for you PW...).

The good news is I like my new counsellor. He's easy to talk to. He has a sense of humour. That's important. My life is predicated on being able to see the funny side of something. I don't want to lose this. Although I do need to learn when and where to wear my clown mask.

The most used words in my 90 minutes of self reflection were control, perfection and worth.

For those of you walking your own black dog you might be able to associate with these. Each one I use in a negative way.

Control because if things go wrong I only have myself to blame rather than being let down by other people.

Perfection is something I strive for in everything, and a part of my approach to life that I really need to change.

And worth - this is the root cause of my problem. It stems back to my childhood when my Dad left. Left and rarely showed any interest in me for the next 40 years. One of two people in the world I thought I could rely on. As a parent I can't imagine walking away from my child but we all know life is multiple shades of grey, not black and white. My self worth is almost non existent. After all if I'm not loveable to someone who should feel it unconditionally, why should anyone else love me, or even like me?

It's amazing I have any friends really. But I do. You know who you are and I'm so grateful to you for sticking around.

Bear with me. I'm working hard to make it worth your while.

Runnin' (lose it all)

Before I went to see my GP in July I was running 3-4 times a week. I'd completed couch to 5k and had registered for my first race covering this distance. He thought this was very positive, reminding me of the mental benefits associated with exercise as well as the physical.

Three months have passed since then and I've exercised once. Thought about it lots but indecision, tiredness and a general lack of interest have pinned me to the floor, sofa or bed. 

Like a subliminal message I can't get the song Runnin' (lose it all) out of my head. An earworm with a hidden message? Possibly. I decided to take notice and tonight ventured to the gym to start C25K again. It felt ok. Not as enjoyable as before but ok. I didn't lose it all. But I did manage to lose some of it for about 30 minutes.

I'll try again later in the week. That's as much as I can commit to at the moment.

A constant game of keepy uppy

I've had two exhausting but brilliant days running events for clients in Birmingham and London. Both teams are a joy to work with and they make me feel like I belong. The investment required to make an event successful is huge, but the rewards are worth it. I feel a natural high when an event goes well. A sense of euphoria. It's joyous. But maintaining the positive emotions can be like trying to play a constant game of keepy uppy.

I promised someone tonight that I'd concentrate on the things that went well. She knows I'm going to struggle not to crash and burn. I did well this week. I'll try to remember that.

It's not you, it's me.

I still have moments when I wonder if this is a good idea. Me sharing what's inside my head. Mainly because it's a car crash in there most of the time and who needs that? Apart from other people like me.

I know right. More people like me. Doing proper jobs, raising families and everything. Fucked up souls with responsibilities trying to keep it together and hoping to wake up just once feeling happy to be alive.

That paints a picture of every waking second being a nightmare. It's not. Personally I have moments of lucidity where the promise of how life could be provides me with the motivation to keep going. These glimmers of light burn a little brighter every day but when they're eclipsed the darkness is suffocating.

Taking the first step and coming clean about how I was feeling was hard. Having spent so long covering up the truth I'd almost forgotten what it's like to just be me except for the fact that the only me I can remember is miserable as hell a lot of the time and I'm happy to forget that. It gave me the opportunity to share how I feel. To accept that if other people have a problem with my condition I need to live with that. But in the main they don't. Some of you have been exceptionally supportive. That in itself makes me feel guilty. And reinforces why I'm in the place I'm in.

The reason for calling this post 'It's not you, it's me', isn't a cowardly way of breaking up with you. After all I need all the help I can get. It's because of some of the comments I've had about suicide. When I was 17 my boyfriend's uncle (in his 20s) killed himself. It was the first, although not the last, time that I experienced this type of death and the repercussions it has. It was heartbreaking to see the pain they were going through. Their inability to answer that most simple and yet complex of questions: Why? I can't speak for other people. My experience of depression could be very different from someone else's but I do know that when I was considering suicide as an option the why was all about me. It really wasn't about anyone else. Of course there are people who suffer abuse - verbal and physical - which can lead them to take their own lives. That's not the case for me. That's why I can't imagine that anything you might say to me would lead me to take this step.

I'm working very hard to make sure I don't reach this point. It's not easy. I remember sitting at dinner with two very good friends talking about the dramatisation of Lisa Lynch's battle with cancer. I had only just sought help and the world still felt a little hazy. I'm embarrassed to admit this because it illustrates my selfishness but it also highlights how the people who know you can really help. As we sat around the table talking about this incredible woman and the tragedy of her death I could feel myself growing tense. It was tragic. It was a waste. She was brave and bold. And all I could think was I wish that was me. I didn't want to say it out loud because I was ashamed. So my friend said it for me. We didn't talk about it anymore but I felt relieved that he got it and grateful that they didn't pussy foot around me.

Some people believe that suicide is selfish. I can see why. The people left behind, like my ex boyfriend's family, never truly get over it. But for me I thought it was more selfish expecting my family and friends to live with me the way I was. Happy one minute. Cold, angry and distant the next. It's not rational. Then neither was I.

What I'm trying to say is that I feel the way I do because of me. Not because of any of you. The problem is mine. It's my lack of self esteem, my guilt, my need to make other people happy before myself. If someone tells me I've done a good job I think they're being sarcastic. If someone asks to speak to me I assume it's because I've cocked something up. All of these factors are a result of my insecurities. That's not to say you should treat me like crap because it doesn't matter, that would be ludicrous. But here's the 'tell it like it is' moment: I'm not going to kill myself because of something you say or don't say; do or don't do. I honestly hope I'm not going to kill myself full stop. It certainly feels less likely every day*. Plus I have a really low pain threshold so my options are limited. I'm kidding! Not about the pain threshold.

Just keep doing what you're doing. Unless it's something you shouldn't. Being depressed doesn't mean I'll turn a blind eye to everything but the pills certainly make me less inclined to care.


*One of the questions my psych nurse asks me is if I have any plans. At the start I used to say no. Which was a lie. Now I say no and I usually mean it. I really hope it stays that way.

Being honest about my condition

Have I mentioned that I'm not supposed to drink alcohol with the ADs I'm on? Really? Pretty sure I must have said something. In passing. At some point. About my not being able to drink. It's enough to make me depressed... I've definitely said that. On more than one occasion.

Here's the real question I want to ask you. If you were on medication for a heart problem or an infection, and someone asked if you wanted a drink, would you tell them the reason why you couldn't have one? For most of us the answer is probably yes. "No I won't thanks, I'm a diabetic." "No I can't, I'm on antibiotics". However what about if you were on drugs to help with a mental health condition? An illness that isn't always thought of in the same way.

When my GP finally persuaded me I needed to take some medication I asked lots of questions. Would it affect my creativity? Would I live in a permanent state of numbness with fewer lows but also not so many highs? How long would I need to take them? What about treatment for my toenail...? Did he think I was an idiot? Weak? Pathetic? I'm fairly sure the poor bloke was relieved when I eventually left his office. I bombarded him with everything I could think of in between tears, self ridicule and some seriously blunt questioning. Why I forgot to ask him if I could still drink I don't know. Probably because I don't drink a huge amount and it's not top of the list when you're staring down the barrel of a metaphoric gun.

It didn't occur to me until I got home and decided to read the notes inside the pill box before I committed to a mid to long term relationship.

"This drug is known for causing tiredness as a side effect. Combining Prozac with alcohol can quickly lead to increased sedation. Even one drink combined with the drug can cause tranquilisation. As a magnifier of the drug’s effect, alcohol mixed with the sedative can produce potentially dangerous situations." 

The potentially dangerous situations? Mixing alcohol with prozac (fluoxetine) can lead to suicidal thoughts. I kid you not! You couldn't make this stuff up. Ok clearly you could but seriously if Alanis Morissette ever decides to rewrite Ironic she should chat to some people who suffer from mental health problems. We'd have a enough material for a track that rivalled the length of Fools Gold and This Is What She's Like.

Which finally brings me to my point (note to self: check if side effects also include an inability to retain a single train of thought...). If I was on any other medication and someone offered me a drink I'd politely decline and probably say why. But since I started taking ADs I've become increasingly aware that honesty isn't always the best policy. It is for me. I feel liberated. But I recognise that it does leave some people tongue tied. What do you say when someone tells you they're on antidepressants? Maybe ask them if they want to talk about it. Are the tablets helping? Is it hard adjusting to life without a cold glass of white (yes is the answer)? Are you nuts? Perhaps save that one for those friendships where they expect that sort of response...

Initially I shied away from addressing the issue and said I was on a health kick; taking 3 months off the booze as part of a lifestyle change. Then I realised it was just too much to hide and so began a level of openness, alongside a new level of abstinence, both of which I fully accept make some people uncomfortable. I'm still fundamentally the same person I was before the meds albeit a bit less manic and hopefully on my way to being a lot happier. If we're really going to remove the stigma associated with mental health we can all play a part in understanding what it means. For my friends and family it now means they have a regular designated driver. Not all bad news is it?

Realising that I'm never walking alone

Come on. I'm a scouser I'm allowed to use that reference!

When I wrote my 'share all' blog a few days ago I hesitated enormously before I clicked the post button.

What if the response was really negative? There's been one person who I can see doesn't know what to say to me. I totally understand. I must seem like a stranger to some of you. I'm not really. Just revealing a side of me that has stayed hidden for too long. About 30 years too long.

And what if I lost work as a result of my honesty? Mental health is still largely misunderstood. I don't claim to be an expert. I'm finding my feet here as much as the next person but I need to be realistic. I'm self-employed and I need to stay on top of my game. There's no sick leave. No compassionate leave. At least not officially. As I mentioned earlier this week I'm extremely fortunate to work with clients who treat me like one of the team but I can't take this for granted.

It was a huge risk. But I knew I couldn't carry on the way I was. Being able to talk to people could quite literally save my life. I'll come on to the S word in a later post; I'm not at the stage where I can share how I really feel about this yet. It's too raw. I'm too raw. And I don't think the people closest to me are ready either.

I have however been blown away by the response. Firstly the people who reached out with good wishes and to give me a virtual hug. Thank you. It may seem small but it really does mean a lot.

SANE runs a campaign called 'Send a text save a life' which encourages people to send an unsolicited 'are you ok' text to someone who needs it. One of my friends sent me a funny photo of one of his kids. No other message. No 'how are you?' or 'how's it going?'. Just a really cute picture with a caption that made me laugh. That sort of support has such a positive impact so thanks especially to you Mr X, you know who you are :)

Secondly I've received a surprising number of messages from friends, family, colleagues and strangers who are currently going through, or have experienced, depression in their lives. Again thank you. I know how hard it can be to share your experience. Each one of us is on our own personal journey. Everything we go through is relative to us and I can't compare my depressive apple with your depressive orange. However if I can help any of you please let me know. For now I'll live by the SANE approach and send you a message now and again to remind you that I care.

That's it really. I took a risk and the early signs are good. Thanks for reading.


Photo by LFCJosh

Asking for help

Someone reminded me that I hadn't blogged for a while. It's been over a year.

I could have conceived and given birth to a baby in that time.
Or grown a pineapple.
Completed an MBA.

I didn't do any of these things. I didn't blog either. Other than a few posts, I haven't written much at all since finishing my photo a day blog on 31st December 2013.

I have worked though. A lot. And I've been unhappy with myself.

So unhappy that I was in danger of doing something stupid. This isn't a cry for attention. I'm self sufficient. My family would tell you too self sufficient. I never ask for help and that can be tiring for all of us. When I began to check that all my paperwork was in order and regularly thought everyone would be better off without me; that's when I finally realised I hadn't been happy for as long as I can remember and asked for help.

And that's why eight weeks ago I found myself telling a complete stranger that I couldn't cope anymore. It was a GP, not some random person in the street and actually I couldn't even tell him at first. Instead I showed him a damaged toenail even though he knew why I was there because I'd had to tell the receptionist when I made the appointment. In truly British fashion I apologised constantly for taking up his time on something so stupid but he listened patiently and I left with a prescription for Fluoxetine and a meeting with a counsellor.

I had at last faced the truth and accepted that I was depressed. Not a bit down. Not a bit miserable. Depressed. I'd become quite good at hiding it. People who know me well but not well enough would probably describe me as happy. I like to play the joker. To make other people laugh. To be there for people who are having a tough time.

Robin Williams is quoted as saying "I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it's like to feel absolutely worthless and they don't want anyone else to feel like that." I can relate to that.

Saying the words 'I'm depressed" out loud was, I hope, the start of my recovery. I know I'm lucky to have a great family, a job I love and (what could be) a beautiful home but as I've previously said to people who don't understand depression, "It's not about what you have, it's about how you feel."

I fell out with a cousin who I care for a lot because we disagreed on this. I wasn't brave enough to tell him I know this is true because it's how I've felt every day.

Before I sought help I set up another twitter account to share my real feelings and to connect with other people who are in a similar situation. I now take part in twitter chats about mental health. It helps to be honest about how I was doing. To talk about my medication and its side effects. To talk. Full stop. With complete honesty and without judgement. Except it's not completely honest is it because nobody knows who I really am?

My counsellor asked if I could speak to Will (my husband) about how I felt. However how do you tell someone that loves you that you don't want to go on living? Of course he knows I'm getting help and I talk to him when I need to but there are parts of our life together that I don't want to spoil for him. As I said before, it's not about what I have, or who I'm with, it's about who I am and how that makes me feel. If you're reading this and have no comprehension of what I'm talking about. Good. I'm pleased for you. It's a wretched place and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Well maybe a small handful of people but only if really pushed.

It's taken two months for the meds to begin to balance themselves out. I spent 6 weeks feeling nauseous and exhausted during the day, then suffering from insomnia at night. Then I changed the time of day that I took them and it's starting to feel a little better. Being self employed has brought additional pressures. I'm extremely lucky that I've been able to tell my clients what I'm going through, to have had the flexibility to adjust to the meds. They've all been amazing.

I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. If just one other person who feels like I have reads this and decides to make a change that's a good thing. If someone who thinks that depression only happens to the weak changes their mind that's good too.

I think I'm pretty tough. I believe I can do anything. Except beat this on my own. This may seem like a tiny step but one small step for (wo)man - well - I'm hoping that's one giant leap for my own peace of mind.

This is the start of my journey. The road to happiness. And I'm going to share some of it in this blog.