1066 All Stars

Christmas time is here again,

So ends a year of hope, a year of pain.

I returned to work, moved on at last,

Learned to forgive and forget my past.

I achieved a dream, which still feels strange.

I learned the importance of making change.

Some battles were lost, some were won,

I lost a father, I gained a son.

But mental illness is never far away,

It is a demon I must confront each and every day.

Depression doesn't care if you're happy or sad,

If you've been naughty or nice, good or bad.

And anxiety can come from out of the blue,

To tell you you're no good, even though it's not true.

To combat the negative thoughts in my head,

I think of the ways in which I am blessed.

The girls we thought we would never see,

Our son who completes our family tree.

They bring me joy, they spend my money,

I don't know if I should cry or find it funny.

There's a place missing at the table this year,

Always in our thoughts, though you're no longer here.

So here's to a Christmas full of festive cheer,

And a mental healthy and happy New Year.

The thoughts in my head go round and round

Round and round

Round and round

The thoughts in my head go round and round

All day long

*

Depression tried to tell me, 'You're no good'

'You're no good'

'You're no good'

Depression tried to tell me, 'You're no good'

All day long

*

Anxiety told me, 'It's all your fault'

'It's all your fault'

'It's all your fault'

Anxiety told me, 'It's all your fault'

All day long

*

The voices in the dark said there's no way back

No way back

No way back

The voices in the dark said there's no way back

All day long

*

But therapy showed me you can change

You can change

You can change

Therapy showed me you can change

All day long

*

And now recovery reminds me to be kind to myself

Be kind to myself

Be kind to myself

Recovery reminds me to be kind to myself

All day long

*

And my family tell me 'We love you daddy'

'We love you daddy'

'We love you daddy'

My family tell me 'We love you daddy'

All day long

*

And now the thoughts in my head are balanced and fair

Balanced and fair

Balanced and fair

The thoughts in my head are balanced and fair

And I'm okay.

Christmas.

What does it conjure up for you?

Presents? Family? Turkey?

How about just being happy?

For me, it conjures up very different thoughts and feelings.

Stress. Judgement. Façade.

The pattern over the last few years has been broadly the same. The inevitable conversation will start about what you want for Christmas and I will always say the same. There is nothing I particularly want, don't waste your money. This in turn leads to a charge of being a misery guts as those around me attempt to coax me into a jovial spirit.

For years I perpetuated this sham, forcing a visage of outward happiness whilst all the while inside experiencing a sense of isolation and misery that I did not understand. Why couldn't I just be happy?

Of course now I understand. I have been depressed.

It is now more than twelve months since I left therapy. With Christmas fast approaching, it seems a good barometer to measure my progress and see how far I have come. And so how do I feel about the big day this year?

Exactly the same as I did before.

Why? Has nothing changed? In fact plenty has changed but plenty still remains to be done.

I am reminded of something I was told at work once to explain the cycle of learning, which I will paraphrase. Broadly speaking, we go through four basic stages of development;

1) We know nothing (the 'Jon Snow' phase).

2) We know a little but we don't know what we don't know.

3) We know a lot and we now know what we don't know.

4) We've finally cracked it.

Phase one is perhaps our childhood. As children we have no concept of stress or worry, the biggest conundrum we face is which story we want read to us at bedtime.

Phase two is perhaps our teenage and young adult years. We become independent, striking out into the world, yet always holding on to the comfort of the Bank of Mum and Dad. We may pay rent but we have no concept of mortgages, bills, children, careers. Life is care free, time is for friends and fun.

Phase three is where I find myself now, the most difficult of all. I am in my mid(ish) thirties. I have experienced life, built up a bank of knowledge. I have lived and loved. I have lost. I have been humbled, humiliated, shamed. And I have been in therapy where the world finally began to make sense.

For it was at therapy that I learnt that what I was experiencing was not weakness but illness. I was not broken and I was not flawed. I needed help, support and understanding. I needed to be kind to myself, to give myself time to heal.

And I needed to change.

The last twelve months have been both the most difficult and the most liberating of my life. I returned to work. I lost my dad. I became a father again. I became a published author, in a manner of speaking.

And for the first time, I understood that this is a daily fight. I will never be 'cured', that was never the point. But I can stay well. I can be happy.

Life is a series of lessons. Learning leads to understanding. By understanding, we can begin to change.

I have learned to accept my illness. I learned to live with it. Now, I am trying to learn how to live without it.

So if I look 'miserable' or 'grumpy' or 'not in the Christmas spirit' this year, please remember that I am still learning.

Oh and phase four? I'll probably never get there, I just hope to enjoy the ride.

No man is an island, or so they say

But the shore keeps moving further away

Where the sun once shone, there are now dark clouds

The fog has fallen, like a shroud

The ashes have spread across the sky

If I ever find God I'll ask him, why?

His work is mysterious, or so they say

Believe what you want, I'll believe what I may

It gets lonely here, on this barren grey rock

Even the voices in my head only seem to mock

I crawl into the dirt to hide my shame

No one understands, no one knows the pain

Yet there are others here on this foreign land

To share their burden, to understand

And now flowers grow, two big one small

And a rose grows too, fairest of them all

They offer their colour and I drink it in

They wash me clean, forgive my sin

Am I a disappointment? Perhaps only to myself

It can be difficult to tell, the curse of mental health

I start to swim, the shore draws near

I leave behind my guilt, I leave behind my fear

The rock is still behind me, perhaps it's not so far

But then objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

There are many roads yet to walk, and people yet to meet

The journey isn't over, isn't yet complete

Those dark clouds still threaten, the rain may yet come

But even the darkest cloud must soon give way to sun

Knowledge of mental health has begun to become more widespread in our society. And yet there remains a stigma, a sense that mental illness is somehow not as serious as physical illness.

Why? There remains a shame to admit to mental health problems, that they represent a sign of weakness, that these are not 'real' health problems, instead perhaps just something in your mind that you need to shake off, get over, get on with it, grin and bear it, pull your socks up.

These views are of course nonsense. Mental illness is real. It blights lives, destroys relationships.

I have my own experience. After years of ignoring the signs, following the stigma, I inevitably crashed. The three months I spent in therapy at hospital for depression and anxiety were the most important months of my life. I learnt about my illness, learnt about myself. And it was there that I learnt the most fundamental lesson of all.

You can change.

It is a simple concept but a fundamental one.

You can change.

Whilst in the grip of mental illness, it can be tempting to label oneself, to apply a blanket judgement that says, 'This is what I am.'

But it is not who you are. You are not the illness. You are suffering from the symptoms of the illness. Negative automatic thoughts seek to reaffirm your deepest fears and insecurities. Reject them.

I am not depressed, I have suffered from depression. It is a subtle distinction but an important one. I am not a fixed, unalterable state. There is no pre-defined path set before me. I get to choose.

In the same way that I did not choose to be depressed, I cannot simply choose to not be depressed. But each day, I can choose to resist. The negative automatic thoughts tell me to turn left. I can choose to turn right.

It is not easy. Few things that are worthwhile in life ever are. But it can be done. I have seen it. I have done it. I am living it. One day at a time.

Mental illness is a disease. YOU are the cure.

Be kind to yourself. Give yourself time. And become the change you want to see.

You may never get to where you are trying to go. The point of life is to enjoy the journey.

All those times I said...

...It's fine...

...It doesn't matter...

...I don't mind...

...I'm not bothered...

...I don't care...

...It's no big deal...

...Don't worry about it...

...I didn't take it personally...

... I lied.

This week (the 20th to be exact) marks the one year anniversary of being made redundant from my job.

It is difficult to know what to feel. Should I feel anything? It was just a job, and one I hated at that. Yet for all that, it throws up a number of thoughts. There is no particular order to these, this is just what is on my mind.

...I am well rid of my old job. It made me miserable. It made me ill. It sent me to hospital. I remain angry at the way I was let go and the implication that had for my therapy.

...And yet I still miss it.

...Part of the problem is actually caused by the solution. Bystaying in the same industry, I eliminated an anxiety trigger by ensuring that I would be going into a role and sector that I knew well. I wouldn't have such a steep learning curve, I could concentrate on simply getting back to work. But, at the same time, it helps to highlight the similarities and the glaring differences.

...I am far more reserved in this company. Despite my anxieties, tenure gave me a swagger and confidence. I knew everybody and they knew me, good and bad. Now, I am the new guy. Everyone is a stranger. They have no concept of what I was before and what my skillset is. I have been there 9 months now but still I feel inhibited.

..After 12 years in my last job, I knew all the systems, the processes, the workarounds, the shortcuts. Now, I don't even know the names of all the people who sit behind me. I need to learn it all again. It is like a marrige ending and then finding that you are back on the dating scene, having to once again go through all the rituals and awkwardness of courting, of getting to know someone. If I want to progress, I know I must do it. But part of me is resisting.

...I am torn as to where and how to progress next. It has always been in my character to push myself and seek more. To that end, I sometimes find myself conflicted. I worry how I am perceived by those around me. It is not meant as arrogance or showing off but the simple fact is that my old role was more demanding and complex. Yet, if I were offered more, would I take it? Would I want it? I don't know. Despite all I feel I have achieved in the last year, I still face a daily battle against anxiety. Sometimes the slightest of incidents can act as a trigger. I want more for myself but I am not convinced I am ready for it. In a way I still feel too delicate.

...I am pleased to have continued my writing. It had always been a dream to get something published. But I decided that I didn't want to dream because dreams are not reality. So instead I made it an ambition and I achieved it twice, once as a story in someone else's collection, once my own publication. It is self publishing, so in some respects not 'real' publishing but at the end of the day, people have paid money to buy something that I created. That is pretty special to me.

...Publishing brings its own issues. For the first time, I understand what I want to do with my life. I enjoy writing. I think I am good at it. I have experiences that I want to share with people. This is what I want to do for a living. But I have come to wonder why I bother, what is the point? When I break down my book sales, I have sold 20 units and I'm pretty sure I could name every person who has bought one. When I check the hits on this site, it is rarely out of single digits. I have a smattering of twitter followers. Simply put, I have no audience. Outside friends and family, no one is reading my stuff. I am grateful to everyone, whoever they are, who has taken the time to read something I have written but I want more. I want the exhilaration that comes from someone I don't know coming across my writing and thinking it is interesting enought to warrant paying for. 

...It is not often that I censor myself, I have made a concerted effort to write these blogs as honestly as possible. I wrote a piece recently called Unsocial Media, where I queried the nature of my Facebook friends and their interaction with me in regards to mental illness. But I held back. I wrote it as a polite enquiry. What I left out was some of the resentment I felt. Outside of family (both immediate and extended) and some specific individuals, it feels as though I have been left to battle my illness alone. Perhaps people do not understand. I was in a mental hospital for three months. I experienced what the tabloids would probably (inaccurately) refer to as a 'nervous breakdown'. My life has been turned upside down, forcing me to fundamentally question who I am. It has been a life changing experience. I am not cured, I never will be. Maybe I have become too adept at hiding my true self. I can put on a mask with the best of them. But my triggers and insecurities remain.

...Two of the people who have been most supportive to me and us as a family are Karen's parents, Phil and Rachel. They are unswervingly generous and kind with their time and advice, assisting us on countless projects around the house and are always ready to help with the kids. And how have I repaid such generosity? With rudeness and ingratitude. It is tempting to blame my depression and anxiety but that is an easy cop out. I take responsibility for my actions. They have given us so much and I have taken them for granted. They deserve so much better. The last year has taught me that life is a journey. I am endeavouring to change. I apologise to them both unreservedly.

My social media habits have undoubtedly changed over the years, a natural part of getting older.

Where once my Facebook status updates were an exercise in obscure film quotes, now they feature updates on my kids and pictures to share with relatives.

But by far the biggest impact on my social media interaction is the period I spent in therapy for depression and anxiety. My status updates are now very often about elements of mental health, sharing my blogs and stories perhaps or simply a soundbite of a lesson learned. I migrated to Twitter, where I found like minded people. I share some of my stories on Readwave. I even wrote a book (available right now from Amazon, folks).

I have made a conscious decision to share my thoughts and feelings intimately. It is a therapy of sorts. Perhaps I can even help someone else along the way who is going through something similar.

Some people comment (or 'like') these posts. Many don't. Which got me thinking, why not? The temptation is to be disappointed, even petulantly angry. Here I am, soul laid bare, and people can't be bothered to acknowledge it?

But there is more going on here. When I step back and think about it, I have a good set of friends, I have surrounded myself with decent people. So there are reasons why people don't feel able to comment. I thought about it and I reckon my friends break down into three broad categories.

Category 1 - these people comment regularly. Sometimes they send me direct messages. They show empathy and understanding. They encourage, advise, sometimes even share their own struggles. They've probably bought my book. These people have played an active role in my (ongoing) recovery from mental illness.

Category 2 - these people do not comment regularly. When they do, it is often in jest, never anything too serious. I suspect they are unsure what to say, perhaps worried about saying the wrong thing. They are not used to me being so serious. So they stay quiet, or interact with me in the way they know best. A couple of them may have bought my book.

Category 3 - these people do not comment because they are not interested in the subject matter. They probably wish I would stop posting links to my book and post about football or beer. Remind me, why are we friends again?

I suspect most of my friends are in category 2. I hope none of them are in category 3.

If there are any category 3's; goodbye. You serve no positive purpose in my life.

To the category 2's; I'm still here, I just changed, grew up, perhaps. If you want to know more, don't be embarrassed to say so. The only stupid question is the one that isn't asked.

And to the category 1's; thank you.

#depression is wrong. I can do whatever I set my mind to. Belief comes from within. I choose to believe. He will not beat me

Looking backwards or forwards can sometimes be pleasant,

But straddling the past and future means you piss on the present.

Just think; wherever you are in the world and whatever you do, chances are that someone you know is affected by #mentalillness #1in4

You are not weak. You are not flawed. You are not broken.

And you are not alone.

I have suffered from #mentalillness. I can choose to let this fact define me. Or, I can choose to let it inspire me.

Depression & anxiety stole my confidence, self worth, energy, enthusiasm & compassion.

Well I'm taking them back. I'm taking them all back.

#depression is...being in a room full of people, yet feeling utterly alone #mentalillness

Anxiety is...double and triple checking for any mistakes, then obsessing over the ones you didn't find.

#depression is...seeing only grey in a world full of colour.

Anxiety is...an elastic band at full stretch that cannot relax and so will inevitably break.

You may never be 'cured' of #depression. But with patience, understanding and kindness to yourself you can get better and stay better.

You must become the change you want to see.

Just think, all those times I said 'it's driving me mental' were actually true #depression

#depression causes me to make poor choices. #anxiety ensures that I endlessly regret them #mentalillness

#mindfulness is...knowing that the most important thing I can give my children is also the simplest and costs nothing - time.

#Anxiety is...the cycle of doubt and regret even when the decision made was correct.

#Anxiety is...that voice that says I must relax, I must relax, I must relax...

It is easy to underestimate the power of words, until we hear the right ones.

Someone you know may be struggling with #mentalillness right now. You don't have to fix. You don't even have to understand. Just listen.

#depression is not about feeling sad. At its worst, it is about feeling nothing at all #mentalillness #stopstigma

'What's he got to be diabetic about?' Doesn't make any sense does it. #Depression isn't a mood or state of mind. It's an illness #stopstigma

#Anxiety is not feeling a bit stressed or 'needing to chill out'.

#Anxiety is a perpetual state of heightened awareness. Like a kettle constantly at boiling point with no off switch.

But #anxiety can be overcome by changing our behaviours and breaking the pattern of destructive negative thinking errors.

#Depression made me believe doors of opportunity were closed to me forever. @PrioryGroup helped me understand I just needed to find the key.

#Depression made me think, 'why me?' Recovery helped me ask, 'why not me?' #selfpub #mentalillness

The irony of #depression is that those who need help the most are the ones least likely to ask for it #mentalillness

The road to recovery from #mentalillness can be a little bumpy. Sometimes it helps to have someone walk alongside.

I am not mentally ill. I have suffered from #mentalillness. It is an important distinction, to understand that I can CHANGE.

You can't change the past any more than see the future. But the here and now is a gift, that's why it's called the present #mindfulness

#Anxiety wants to make me believe there is always something else I should be doing. #Mindfulness reminds me simply to live in the now.

#Anxiety exacerbates errors, tells you that you're a failure. But this is a negative bias. Choose to ignore it. You are in control.

Negative thoughts are like rain clouds. Allow them to pass. It can't rain all the time #mentalillness #depression

#Depression is like pot holes in the road of life. You can't always avoid them but when you do hit one, keep going on your journey.

Do not presume to know the mind of others #anxiety

Be careful not to label yourself. You are not a fixed state, you can become the change you wish to see #mentalhealth #healingwords

#depression can come over you like a creeping fog. Before you know it, you can't see where you're going and don't know which way to turn.

And Why I Will Not Be Doing It

By now most of us are aware of the Ice Bucket Challenge. You can't engage in social media without seeing someone chucking a bucket of water over their head.

Inevitably, I have now been nominated. And why not? It's to raise awareness of a good cause. And it's all just a bit of fun. Isn't it?

I had never heard of Motor Neurone Disease (MND, or ALS to Americans). I was first introduced to it when my Dad dropped the bombshell news that he had it.

It was supposed to be a happy time. My wife and I had just had the news confirmed that IVF had worked and we were expecting twins. Then my Dad told us the news.

The obvious first question; what is it? MND is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects the nerves and causes muscle wastage.

'How long?', we wondered. 'Who knows?' came the reply. It could be a year, two years, maybe ten. We just didn't know.

And so life went on. But gradually, the disease started to take effect.

The first warning came with a heart attack. A mild one in hindsight but a stark reminder that my Dad, once so fit and strong, had become frail. We secretly wondered if he would live to see his granddaughters.

Live to see them he did. However, MND took hold by wasting away the muscles in his arms and legs. He could hold the girls, but only with the support of a cushion to position his arms.

Over time, he found it difficult to walk, shuffling around the room like a man in his 90's. A stairlift was fitted to help him up the stairs.

His arm deterioration continued until he could no longer lift a fork or spoon unaided. His legs failed him, restricting him to a wheelchair. His neck muscles became weaker, making it difficult to support his head for long periods.

Finally, a special bed was installed downstairs, a harness fitted to help my Mum lift him in and out of bed. He was now reliant on full time care. His body had betrayed him. This man, who had always been so full of life, so full of energy, now confined to a chair.

And all the while, life went on around him.

I entered therapy for depression and anxiety. I had to lose myself in my own world and sort out my own issues.

IVF was again successful and we broke the news that my Dad would soon welcome his first grandson.

The chair, the harness, the 24 hour care, it all became part of the routine, part of the background. This was just how life was now.

The second heart attack came suddenly. His breathing stopped, only the swift actions of a neighbour bringing him back. He was hospitalised, where they told us he had pneumonia, on top of everything else. But he would be okay, we told ourselves. He just needs to rest. But then he began to deteriorate.

48 hours later, I sat with my Dad in the hospital room as he took his final breaths. He was gone. Finally he was at peace.

He never got to see his grandson.

MND remains a fairly rare, albeit devastating disease. There are subtle genetic, lifestyle and environmental factors that may cause it. There is no known cure.

The Ice Bucket Challenge has brought the disease squarely to the fore. Significant sums of money have been raised, helping to ease the suffering of those living with the disease. Perhaps even one day leading to a cure.

Yet, when I watch these videos, I cannot help but feel that some of this message has been lost. For all the money raised, do those partaking in the challenge truly understand what this disease is, what it does? Has it simply become another fad? Or, dare I say it, a bit of fun?

I have nothing but admiration for those who have done the challenge in memory of a loved one, finding a scrap of grace and good humour in the face of this terrible illness. However, I cannot join you. The pain and bitterness remains too much.

Perhaps I am taking myself too seriously. What's the harm, everyone else is doing it? But therapy taught me the importance of not subjugating myself to satisfy the will of others. This is how I feel.

I respect all of those who have raised awareness and money by taking the challenge.

I hope in turn that you respect my decision not to.