Is depression a choice?

I didn't sleep last night. I don't sleep well most nights but not to sleep for more than an hour is a rarity these days. It's been a difficult week with a lot going on in my head - more than usual - which is a scary thought. Imagine my head on a 'good' day can be like watching Sam Fox and Mick Fleetwood present the Brits; that gives you a sense of how bad a 'bad' day really is.

Whatever happened to Sam Fox?

My current period of reflection came about after my last counselling session. It was a weird session because I wasn't entirely sure why I needed it, I just knew that I did. Cue 50 minutes of me talking nonsensically trying to work out what was bugging me. We talked about what triggers my depression - it's not that straightforward but there are warning signs for me. I do feel I'm coping with it much better than this time last year because I can see when a down period is on the horizon and that's generally after a massive high. And then Jeff said something which has played over and over in my head for a week - he said it's almost like I'm choosing to be bipolar. Could I try not to be depressed after a period of high energy and almost joy?

Fuck, I wasn't expecting that. Is this self-inflicted? Is what I'm going through my own fault? I really didn't think so but I can see the logic in repetitive patterns becoming self-fulfilling. Am I so used to feeling like crap after a London day for example that it's become a habit? I've monitored my behaviour this week in a bid to see if this is something I can change and if it really is a choice; I'll do it for the next few weeks. This week has had some incredible high points and yes that's resulted in a fall but I do also feel depressed during my London days. I have to manage this the best I can whereas at home I can shut the door and crawl under a duvet. That does feel like a choice but a choice that I make when it's appropriate to do so.

Honestly? I'm not convinced at the moment. I like feeling buzzy. I love the spark I get from going to work. I really don't want to feel like shit. There are issues I'm still working through and I believe these have an impact on my general mood. I don't think this is my choice. But I'm open to continuing to test that.

Image: hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com

Feel the good, good creeping up on me

I don't write as much as I'd like to these days because a lot of the time it feels self-absorbed. Probably because depression is a bit fucking* self-absorbing and that's one of its most frustrating traits. Along with being really, really boring. I'm sure you're bored of hearing how boring it is. Well imagine that for hours, days, weeks, months on end. That's how boring it can be. 

I'm lucky that the flip side of my depression is I'm absolutely wired some days and can't get enough out of the day but for those closest to me I suspect (ok I know) that this makes me hard to live with. (BTW thanks for your patience because I'm not expecting to change anytime soon and those huge highs are what keep me hanging on).

Yesterday I tried vlogging instead. Much easier for me and much more palatable for you I think. 47 seconds of self absorption compared to however many minutes it takes you to read this. I thought about posting a second vlog last night after I'd seen my counsellor but I was a bit emotional and would either have cried into the camera or laughed manically - neither of which appealed to me no matter how entertaining it might have been for you.

So why this post? I'm still struggling to concentrate on reading books or watching TV - even if it's not as bad as it was last year - whereas my love of music is definitely back. The effort of picking what to play is a different matter which means I often end up listening to the same song on repeat until the repetition starts to drive me mad...

Justin Timberlake's 'Can't stop the feeling' is my go to song this week (closely followed by Kung - This Girl) and each time I play it I really can feel the good, good creeping up on me. If you haven't seen the video I have to stop myself dancing like this when I hear it - totally failed on the tube on Thursday but brought a smile to the faces of the other people in my carriage. Laughing at me not with me? Possibly but who cares I was loving it. And anyway as JT says "Feel the good, good creeping up on you so just dance, dance, dance" (man can that boy sing and dance).

*Sorry Auntie Margaret but sometimes only swearing helps :)

Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin

Anyone else just a little bit pleased that the weather has turned colder?

I'm not ready to stop lighting the fire yet and after the diet I've adopted for the past 9 months, trousers and jumpers really are my friends. A cold spell means I can wear a hat when I can't be arsed to wash my hair. Throw a sweatshirt over my pyjama top when getting dressed feels like too much of an effort. And joy of joys, it means I'm saved from shaving on a regular basis. If you never embrace the au naturel approach to grooming you don't know what you're missing out on. I hadn't appreciated that full body waxing was a thing until this week; well it's not the sort of thing I'm keen to try anytime soon.

Why is it when men don't shave they become rugged and sexy but if women don't shave - legs and underarms in particular - they should prepare themselves for a life of celibacy? Neglect your bikini line and you might as well hit google with a search for wimples and habits.

I'm fast approaching the age where facial hair is likely to require year round attention. It starts with eyebrow shaping and upper lip hair removal and before you know it I'll be competing with friends to see who has the most impressive goatee; I've already had several conversations with friends about the single chin hair. What the hell is that all about?

So although I'm looking forward to long summer days I can't deny that I'm currently enjoying my low maintenance appearance - it's a godsend when I'm having one of my 'nope' days.

Guilt: the shackles on my feet

Guilt can be a nasty fucker can't it?

Sometimes it's completely appropriate - like when you've done something that you know is wrong or ill judged. That type of guilt is a great teacher. It provides us with markers for how we want to grow and how we should behave; usually once we've realised this we can move on and leave the guilt behind.

Appropriate, useful guilt.

The guilt I feel from my depression is very different. It's disproportionate and generally misplaced. I do know this but for some reason I can't process it. Not only does it compound my feelings of low self-esteem, it also leads to indecision and a belief that everything I do is wrong. This isn't uncommon.

People with depression, people like me, we're quick to blame ourselves for problems around us, even for those things that we have no responsibility for.

If someone asks to speak to me about something my automatic reaction is 'what have I done?' As a 44 year old I'm not prone to getting into trouble. Troublesome, yes. In trouble, no. So where does this feeling come from? That's what I'm trying to get to the bottom of.

Some of you will get this like that (snaps fingers). Some of you will think it sounds ridiculous. It is ridiculous. That doesn't stop it from being real too.

I've discussed this in detail with my counsellor, Jeff. The seemingly infinite number of things I feel guilty about. Like how I've let down the person who believed in me for an MD job that I eventually walked away from; how I think I'm betraying family members by talking about them in our counselling meetings; even the guilt I felt about cancelling an appointment with Jeff when I was ill. It's a symptom that I've carried with me for years. It's unshakeable.

I still worry about things I did as a kid, even though I was just a kid doing the stupid things someone of that age does.

I feel guilty for feeling depressed when to the outside world I have nothing to be depressed about.

Too often I simply feel guilty for feeling guilty.

Like I said, guilt can be a nasty fucker can't it?

Let's keep talking

I knew her by reputation only but when I heard the news about Helen Stokes today I was completely blindsided. Not in a 'lets jump on the grief bandwagon' kind of way. Anyway if you want to jump on a bandwagon, jump away, life is short, do what makes you happy. Even if that involves crying.

My life is good. I won't even try to deny that. I'm more at peace than I've ever been before and I'm making decisions every day that have a positive impact for me and, more importantly, the people around me. Unfortunately that doesn't stop Padfoot showing up. Like the oversized hound of hell that he is. Seriously, if I get myself a living, breathing black dog will he perhaps fuck right off? Unless he really is Gary Oldman in which case, stick around, I'm all yours.

He appeared in the tube again. I'm starting to think I may have watched An American Werewolf in London too many times in my youth as this seems to be a recurring theme. "Don't stray off the path lads..."

I'd spotted a woman on the platform who seemed to have a look in her eyes that I recognised. So I checked up on her. Which means I kept her in my line of sight. She was fine. At this moment in time at least. The tube arrived and she got on. No drama. My greydar clearly isn't up to Bawdsey standards and my furtive imagination would be put to better use writing fiction. Perhaps because I thought she looked like a potential jumper it woke up the generally dormant, spring loaded thoughts inside my own head. And suddenly there he was. Hello Padfoot. You again?

It wasn't as bad as when I thought I might jump but I was having one of those days when I felt like an ant, a plain old worker ant, busying away in a colony. The world around me slowed down. I could hear every sound more clearly, colours were brighter, the air was thicker. I understood my role, my place in this world but I couldn't appreciate its purpose. It seemed futile. I mean really why do we stay on this treadmill? Work to live. Live to work. Is there any difference? They both have negative connotations. As I said, I was having one of those days.

And then I saw the tweet about Helen. There was a link to a beautiful, simple, heart felt message on her company website that said "Like many great people before her, Helen suffered in silence with her depression. Mental illness, like any illness, is part of being human and we are so very sad to have lost Helen to this silent killer." I was floored. A high achiever - Helen is, was, an inspirational figure in the industry. We all know how I like to repeat myself but seriously if you still believe mental health is about feeling sad because of the things we don't have, think again. For so many of us it's about how we feel, pure and simple. Sometimes we feel like crap. Sometimes we don't. And that pretty much sums it up.

I managed to keep it together most of the day until I was on the train heading home and then it was too much; I couldn't stop myself from crying. Here was a woman who to the outside world had everything but it wasn't enough. I was upset because I'm still in a place where everything I have isn't enough. Not yet anyway. I have everything I could possibly want except the ability to love/like/value myself. So I'm going to keep talking. I'm going to keep making choices that are right for me. I'm going to keep sharing how I feel because I know I'm not alone. It's tough I know but let's help each other through this. Let's keep talking.

The same but different.

The longer this goes on the tougher it feels to be honest. As I've said before, my experience of mental health is that it's often incredibly boring. Especially because I'm often repeating myself.

But I still believe this has been the right thing for me to do - be open. Addressing my illness in this way means I'm now taking positive action when I feel like shit - even if that's simply accepting that I feel like shit. No more, no less than that.

By being open I've cemented friendships that were at risk because it's hard to be friends with someone who blows hot and cold. Me, not them.

I've connected with other people like me. Many of whom are still in a dark place, trying to come to terms with this condition and trying to find the words to open up to the right people, at the right time. It's not easy. We worry about worrying those around us. Crazy right? All the best people are...

In an earlier post I talked about trying to make my life easier. So far so good.

I have the meds. For me that's a tick. I'm surprised how much they appear to be helping me.

I have the counsellor. Ok I cried off last week's session because I was full of cold, plus I'm back to that place where I think I should be better by now.

I have my family. Most of you rock. Some of you not so much but hey, that's life.

I have my friends. So many of you. It's overwhelming the love you've thrown in my direction and if anyone doubts the power of social media - this has been a life force for me. Relative strangers have offered words of comfort in a way that those close to you sometimes can't.

And I have my work. Great clients. An interesting job. Flexibility. Well paid. I've always had ambition and this hasn't changed. There's still plenty I'd like to achieve in my career. Plus if I stay away from high places and fast moving vehicles I should have a significant number of years left to make these things happen.

Seriously what more do I need?

A bit of space wouldn't go amiss. Some time to sit quietly with Padfoot on those days when it doesn't quite come together. There are still more of these than I'd like. I don't remember the last time I sat in my office at home. It's become an alien place to me. I work elsewhere. I'd really like to change that. And this is the first step.

After 11 years working freelance - it was meant to be a bit of time out to think about what I wanted to do with my life - I'm heading back to the land of the employed. For 3 days a week. The other two days I'll do bits and bobs for O2 and some work on Metis, the start-up I'm involved in. Oh and I might sleep, read, sew and cook. And stay up late, drinking and taking drugs. Wait, I do that already. The drinking not so much.

From April 5th I'll be joining Transform as Head of Marketing, a client I've worked with for over 5 years, and a bunch of people who've stepped up to the plate a lot since last July. The job is pretty much the same, the people are mostly the same but oddly I feel different. I feel calmer. Excited by the challenge and despite always being made to feel incredibly welcome on the projects I've been involved with, I now feel like I really belong.

It's one of the missing pieces. Belonging. I never felt I fully belonged in my family. I made it difficult for myself to fit in with friends. This feels like the type of progress that's needed if I'm ever going to summit the mountain. For fellow Everest fans out there I've made it through the icefall. The Hillary Step however is still a long way off. To be honest I wonder if I'll ever climb it. Not sure it matters as much now though because the point is I believe that I can.

Not you again?

Making the decision to share my experience wasn't easy. It was something I really wanted to do for many reasons but I was realistic that this was going to have an impact on the people around me. I did it anyway. Selfish? Maybe. But I don't regret it.

Not just because it's a relief to be honest about how I'm feeling but also because of the people I've come to know. So many of you have messaged me to share your own stories and although I can't wave a magic wand to make your depression go away I hope by being there I'm able to provide some comfort because you now know you're not alone.

Here's where you non-depressives come in. (See what I did there? It's like me and my fellow depressives are on the inside and you're not. Maybe we're the cool kids and you're the ones on the sidelines hoping to be invited to one of our parties. After all we've got the moves and the pills. Or maybe it's time to get together as a united group of people with different health problems; some of them physical, some of them mental.) Where was I? Oh yeah. If you don't suffer with depression but you're one of the people who got in touch to say you know someone who does here's a common problem.

Depression eats away at self confidence. It's like Jiminy Cricket got smashed and turned into a drunken acquaintance who can't wait to point out all the things that are wrong with you. And there's only the two of you, in a trapped lift, for hours and hours. We feel like we're a drain on our friends. That we are demanding too much attention. Guilty that we're not better yet. This is a long haul and it will take all your strength to stick with us. 

If you do have a friend/family member with depression try and keep in touch. They're not suffering from some virus that will go away after a few weeks of rest. It's highly likely that they need you but feel too embarrassed to ask for help because they're worried you'll be thinking 'not you again'. 

We do understand that you have your own families and jobs to deal with but you could be the difference between a really shit day, and a relatively shit day. Who knows? You might even be the catalyst for a day that doesn't feature any shit at all.

I'm lucky. Here are some of the things my friends do - in case you're stuck for ideas - and if none of these seem right this might help.

1. One friend sends me email updates when she's up before the kids. She asks how I am and then tells me what's going on in her life. A welcome respite from the noise inside my head and reminds me that I'm in her thoughts. She never makes me feel guilty if I struggle to reply; she's just there. Thank you.

2. Several friends send me messages/texts to say 'I saw this and thought of you' or ask 'how are you?' or 'how can I help?' Might seem like it's not enough but it is. Thank you.

3. A friend I haven't seen for years but who I love dearly sent me an incredibly thoughtful book because she noticed I'd started reading again. She also included a bar of dark chocolate because who wouldn't enjoy that? Thank you.

4. A friend's husband shared the brilliance of Gemma Correll; I've since passed this on to many people. She is a very clever lady and her illustrations are fantastic. The same friend's husband - I should call him a friend really* - always lets me know he's read my blog and makes me laugh in our conversations on messenger. Thank you.

5. A gaggle of very special women invite me to join them when they walk their dogs. A walk is a really good one. No need to look someone in the eye. No need to talk about how I'm feeling. Fresh air, exercise and usually much laughter. Perfect medicine. And unlike Kayleigh and Ken in Car Share we don't call this dogging. We know the difference! Thank you.

6. A friend regularly tells me I'm enough. In a variety of different ways but the core message remains the same: you're enough. Thank you.

7. After my last post the inner circle let me know I could call them. Anytime. You are truly wonderful. It's not an easy decision to be someone's 'talk me down from the ledge' person. I hope not to test you on this but it's good to know you've got my back. Thank you.

8. And finally the other two buzzy bees in my house. Who listen. Let me sleep. Forgive me when I'm inert. Enjoy me when I'm energised. Make me laugh. Allow me to cry. You are the best. Thank you.

Yesterday I messaged a few people who've been there for me. To let them know I was thinking of them for a change. It works both ways.

*Said friend's husband and I have since discussed this and agreed we are friends. Another win for today!