The best gift a girl can get

It's funny how things turn out. I was going to write a post last night. Yesterday was an iffy day and at one point I thought it would be a good idea to sit down and actually write to get some of the thoughts and feelings out of my head and into the ether. But I never quite got round to it.

And I'm actually glad that I didn't write yesterday. For a very simple reason: this morning when I woke up I felt happy!

It is difficult to describe how lovely it is when you have been feeling a bit down to wake up and feel happy. It feels like you have been given a gift. You don't know where it has come from. It is just there. It's the best present in the world.

So what is it that brings me this magical gift? Well in this case it was a decent night's sleep! 

I don't know why, but I am continually astonished by how much sleeping properly actually helps me to feel better. And it isn't just in terms of resting. I have been resting a lot recently. In fact, over the past week or so I have been positively lazy! But sleeping is different. I think that the difference is that when you sleep properly your head actually does a hell of a lot of sorting out.

Yesterday, while I was feeling fed up, I started regretting a decision that I made years ago. I can't exactly explain why I started regretting it. On any day when I feel ok I know that it was the right decision. I have also found (at the grand old age of 28!) that there is little point regretting things. Whatever decisions you make in life are the decisions you make at that point in time, because of what matters to you then and who you are then. You can't change them.  What you can do is change how you act in the future or do something on any day to change the direction you are going in. But regretting anything in the past is pretty much a waste of time!

The problem was yesterday I didn't have the strength of mind to think all of that. I just felt tired and fed up with how much effort I am having to put into sorting my head out. Constantly keeping an eye on myself and rejecting the thoughts that I don't what to have any more takes up a lot of energy some days. And yesterday, I was just tired and I had had enough.

But the good thing is that yesterday I was looked after and given the space to talk about how I felt. And was able to be completely honest about how I felt. I had a cup of tea, and a really nice dinner, and a beer. I let my mind settle so that it was empty. And then I slept. And it was the best night's sleep I've had in quite a while. And - the magic thing - is that I dreamt.

Dreaming is an odd thing. It's not always positive. I have been having a lot of nightmares recently. Some of them quite horrific, and worthy of being written into screenplays and sold to make good Halloween style horrors! And generally after those I wake up feeling out of sorts. But then there are the good dreams. I don't mean dreams where you are dating Brad Pitt (jury's still out on whether that would be a good dream or not, I'm still currently thinking not!). I mean dreams where you brain processes things. Where everything that has happened during the day gets sifted and sorted. For me it's almost like all the overlaid expectations and fears that I have to fight during the day get taken away, and my mind is open and honest about what I actually think about things. In this particular case my dreams showed me that the decisions that I have made were right, and that actually in my heart of hearts I know that.

And it meant this morning that I woke up and felt happy and content. That I am in the right place.

And that was the most wonderful gift in the world.

Life is a roller-coaster, you've just got to ride it

I find that I get a lot of comfort from the lyrics of songs. Some songs aren't so helpful: 'Who let the dogs out?' may be an important question, but it doesn't really give much emotional consolation. But most of my favourite songs are ones where the lyrics are so beautiful, or for that matter ugly, that they actually say something about being human and feeling. The one part of culture where society seems happy to let people actually feel and experience life is in song lyrics. As far as I can see it is one of the few places where we stop being so damn 'English' and can actually be honest. (To those who read this blog in other countries I hope you can appreciate what I mean by the 'Englishness' of all of this, and in typical English fashion I apologise!)

Today I find myself thinking about the lyrics of a song. It's not written by the best song-writer out there. To be frank any song where the word 'you' becomes 'you-hoo' doesn't match up to some of my favourite songs!! But there is an important point. And it is a point that one of my friends has made repeatedly to me - and she is very right about!

Life is a roller-coaster. It has ups and downs. For me at the moment the idea of dips or downs particularly resonates. Things will happen. And you can't get out mid-way and announce to the rest of the carriage that actually you don't much fancy doing this any more. You are strapped in and you are on that ride no matter what. But what I'm finding is that the way that you ride those dips is up to you.

You can shut your eyes and try and pretend they are not happening. But that is deceiving yourself. Those dips are happening, and you will feel them nonetheless. And the friend sat next to you will know damn well that they are happening! And if you turn round afterwards and claim they didn't they won't be too impressed with you!!

Or you can keep your eyes open and scream blue murder!! You can actually be aware of what is happening and see what is going on for what it is. For me opening my eyes like that is the scary bit. Actually being honest that there is a dip happening and I am riding it out. The screaming my head off is also a bit alarming. I feel like I'm making a scene. I worry the person next to me will think I'm nuts. I'm worried I'll deafen them! (I do have quite a pair of lungs on me!!) But what I am learning is that it is natural to actually scream (alright - in the real world to get upset and cry and hurt) and that all I have to do is grab onto the hand of the person next to me and hold on tight.

And maybe this is where Ronan's lyrics really come into their own. He says that you need to stop fighting. Arguably that is the most important thing that I am learning right now. I can't fight myself. (I have done before and look where that got me!) All I can do is be me and ride the ups and the downs, and try as much as I can to open my eyes and enjoy the ride. After all, the views from the top are absolutely stunning.

Why I'm a failure and am learning to be proud of it.

It is fair to say that for the past month or so I have been on a pretty even keel. I have been enjoying getting on with my life and doing things. It has all felt amazingly normal. And most importantly I have felt like myself and have been able to enjoy being me. I even started to find that I actually quite like myself!

I haven't been 100% all of the time. I have had a few small dips every now and again. Mainly when I've been talking to people about things that reminded me about stressful situations in the past. But even then I have been able to take myself away for ten or fifteen minutes, recognise what was going on, and remind myself of what actually matters and is important to me. I have also been incredibly lucky that on those occasions I have also had good friends who have sat with me and given me a hug while I've got myself out of it. 

And so, for a while, things have been fairly steady.

Even more positively not only have things been steady but other people have been noticing how much better I am and have been commenting on it. My main focus in getting better is me, rather than what anyone else thinks, but it is still always nice to receive a compliment or two. It doesn't hurt!

But the fact that things have been going so well is, I think, why the last 12 hours have been quite so painful. I have had the longest and most upsetting dip in a long time. There have been a few things that have come up which have really affected how I feel and were making me feel down. And I have felt guilt ridden and like a complete failure for not being able to pull myself out of it. I have ranted and railed against everything and everyone. And until a couple of hours ago it felt like the down just wouldn't go. I felt like I had taken the biggest step backwards. And I was scared. I didn't want to feel like that any more. That was old me, I wanted to be back to new me! I hardly slept last night and only finally managed to doze off at 5.30am. I hadn't been able to eat properly. I felt like a complete waste of space and like everything that I have done over the past few months had all been for nothing. Like I was back at square one all over again.

Now, I'm not writing this to alarm anyone. And I am not writing this to say that nasty dips are inevitable. I'm writing this because I'm not perfect. And therein lies the problem!

I have a tendency to fall into a pattern of trying to achieve things. I am incredibly academic and have (for the most part) had a very successful life from that point of view. I got the exam results I wanted. I got into the University I wanted to. I did a Masters degree. I have got into a highly competitive profession. I have achieved a lot. The thing is that I'm not quite so good at accepting the things about me that just happen and are part of my character. I have ended up basing almost all of my self-worth on achieving things. And therein lies a lot (possibly not all!) but a lot of my personal problem and the root of my depression.

Recently I had reached a point where I felt like I had achieved something as far the depression was concerned - I was getting better. And what's more other people were telling me I was getting better. I was getting an A* for progress and probably about an A for attainment! My report card was good!!

So no wonder it hit me like a tonne of bricks when I reacted to a couple of emotional and uncontrollable things and it sent me spiralling. And rather than just accepting that I was upset by those things all I could think, over and over again, was that I failed. I had let myself down. I had let my wonderful friends and family down. And I felt awful.

So in my attempt to not spiral any more here I am - telling the world - that over the past 12 hours I did fail! I am human. I screwed up. I missed some of the warning signs. I didn't take quite enough care of myself. I had an emotional reaction, which got the better of me. And I completely fell apart.

And rather than letting that make me feel awful I am going to accept that it happened. Things like this will happen now and again. It's just part of me and part of life. And I am lucky that those nasty dips are happening less and less frequently. And I am even more lucky that I have a fantastic group of friends who have stood by me through all of the ups and the downs and remind me of the things that I sometimes find it hard to remember and tell myself.

I know that Christmas can be a very tough time for people who have depression. There are a lot of expectations and pressures. For some reason people feel like they have to do Christmas the 'right' way. If you've read any of what I've written previously you'll know that I never presume to tell anyone else what to do, that's not my place, but I do want anyone else who is suffering to know that if it feels too much at the moment then you're not by yourself! Here's at least one other person who has found it all a bit too much to deal with. And actually that is understandable and normal and ok. We're all allowed an off day once in the while - you don't have to be perfect.

Also I have found that the Samaritans have been absolutely brilliant over the past 12 hours, especially when I needed to talk to someone at 2am. They're always there - 08457 909090.

P.S. Anything in this post which appears to be remotely wise comes from other people. They know who they are!

I wish that I knew what I know now...

Having made it to December it seems time to do what everyone seems to do at this time of year - look back on the past year and try and box it up a bit. (I actually find the preoccupation with end of year 'round ups' a bit irritating - it's just another month! - but it seems oddly appropriate given I haven't written for a while!)

I am going to slightly plagiarise a friend in terms of form (not in terms of content). Although I'm sure that they won't mind too much!

So here is a run down of things that I have learnt/observed during the past year, and mainly in the past 6 months or so:-

1. If you are feeling down all the time, it actually isn't normal.

2. Asking for help is not attention seeking

3. Wanting to look after yourself is not selfish

4. Talking to people can be the most important thing you can do

5. Good friends really will be there through absolutely anything
5a. Sometimes good friends need a bit of a break (they are only human!) but the best thing is that they come back again!!

6. Life will throw good and bad things at you, but it is nothing personal

7. Fennel tea is almost magic

8. Feeling good enough is not the same as feeling good

9. Being honest with yourself and facing up to problems is almost harder than being honest with other people and admitting you have a problem

10. Music is definitely magic

11. Important change happens slowly but taking the time is worth it

12. If you have depression who are not letting anyone down - you are poorly

13. Bicycle tyres are more likely to get punctures in the rain

14. No one can understand another person entirely, but that doesn't stop them caring

15. I am an incredibly impatient person!
16. Depression can make you feel and act in a way that you never normally would
17. Living with the consequences of 16 once you are feeling better can be hard
18. When people have got used to a 'depressed' version of you it can be quite hard to explain to them how you actually feel about things and that your outlook has changed, and some people find that hard to deal with
19. I wouldn't change the fact that I am getting better for anything in the world!
20. Sleep is not just magic - it's vital!!!

Silver lining

Writing honestly is for me a good way to face up to things that are going on. Although I know that for people reading this - especially those who know me - the things that I write can be alarming and concerning.

Given that I write about the negative that is going on, it feels only right that I write a bit about the positive as well. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea and to think that my life at the moment is an endless string of self-abuse. If there is a disproportionate focus on the difficult times possibly that is simply a reflection of the fact that those are the times when writing becomes most helpful to me. I feel less like I need to write when life is ticking along in a more upbeat way!

So here are some positive thoughts for a Friday morning/lunchtime. First, since Sunday's episode and the feelings of fear that followed on Monday I have been feeling fine. I have been thinking about what happened and talking to friends about it. But I haven't been in a depressive state of mind. I've been frustrated and wanting for things to improve, but I haven't felt down or miserable. I have got on with work, I have got on with holiday (much needed couple of days off!!) and I have been seeing friends. Life has been 'normal' (a word that doesn't really do justice to anything but is a useful word for these purposes!)

Second, I have been thinking about what happened on Sunday and I am actually seeing it in a positive light. The reason it scared me so much was because it was new. It was not an experience that I have had before. And it seemed to come a bit out of the blue. But what underpinned it was a sense of frustration with the depression and a drive to want to get better. Earlier in the year I wanted to be gone. I wanted to hurt myself by poisoning myself so that I would switch off. I was giving up. What happened on Sunday was definitely not giving up! I didn't want to hurt myself, I wanted to hurt the depression. Now, while what I did may have been as effective as trepanning to deal with a headache, the motivation was actually quite positive: I want to be better.

Third positive thought is this: I know that it was a daft thing to do! I know that beating myself up was a destructive and counter-productive thing to do. But I can see that. It took me a good few weeks after my overdose in June to actually be able to realise it had not been a good thing and to get to a point where I was able to thank my friend for stopping me from killing myself. Almost immediately on Sunday I realised that what had happened was daft.

Which leaves me with this thought for the weekend: Sunday, for me, was another marker. It's another step along the route to getting better. This one had a much better underlying motivation than the overdose ever did. And fundamentally it means that I am not giving up. I can look on it in a positive light and see the good things that may come out of it. And I can also see it for what it was and I have absolutely no wish to do that again!

The journey that I am on at the moment is unpredictable. As is life generally! But I do finally feel that I am going in the right direction. Even if I still have further to go.

Under-estimating people

During this recovery process I have written a lot about trying to get other people to understand what is going on inside my head. I have written about being misunderstood. I have also written about opening up to people and trying to be honest and actually talking and telling people what is going on. For every post about how I feel and what is happening with me there is usually some comment about how I think other people see me.

 

When I started writing this blog I had in mind that at some point I might ask one of my close friends to write something as well. I may still do that. Because I think that as hard as it is for an individual to experience and live through depression, it can be equally frustrating, worrying and upsetting for the people around them. For their family and friends.

 

I am incredibly lucky in the friends that I have. Many people have told me that when you go through something like this, and when you start bearing your soul and being honest about what is going on with you, you find out who your real friends are. You discover the ones who actually care about you regardless of what you do. And there is a lot of truth in that. But I frequently find it hard to believe that they are still there.

 

I suppose in someways I have grossly under-estimated my closest friends. I have been so afraid of what is going on with me for so long that I find it hard to think that they will accept it. I remember telling one of my friends when I was 16 that I was petrified that I was becoming like my grandmother. Depression has always scared me. I didn't understand what was going on in my own head. I was scared of myself. So I assumed everyone else would be too. I felt I was a failure and that I was letting everyone down. I thought that if I told other people they would know that I was letting them down as well and they would be disappointed in me.

 

Even now - 12 years on - I still get moments where I am afraid that I am letting people down. What happened this Sunday got me thinking again. I was afraid to tell people. It was so scary and out of the blue that I thought everyone else would be scared as well. And I felt like I had failed - a new problem had come along that I hadn't foreseen and I wasn't able to deal with. I thought all my friends would feel like I had failed them too. They have stood by me through so much and yet another problem had come up; Louisa still wasn't better.

 

But my friends haven't gone anywhere. They're still here. They have enabled me to talk about all of this and to feel less afraid of what is going on. They may not understand all the inner workings of my head, but they have shown me that they don't need to. And I have finally realised that as much as they may sometimes misunderstand the nuances or not know exactly how my mind works, they know me well enough that they don't have to understand absolutely everything. They still care regardless. And that is the most comforting thing in the world.

 

I know that I have under-estimated a lot of people for a long time. For that I am sorry. And I am very thankful for all the people who are with me every step of the way and helping me to feel less afraid and to know that I am not failing anyone.

Anger and fear

So yesterday's post was written with a certain amount of levity. Really it had to be. I was incredibly scared about what happened and so the only way that I could deal with it was to make light of it. But today I feel I need to tackle it head on.

There are certain things that I don't write about in this blog. Details of my life that involve other people are generally avoided. It isn't fair for me to write about others if they don't have a chance to edit or comment. But I do try to give as honest an account as I can of what I am going through and what I experience. And so here is my attempt to explain yesterday and how it has left me feeling today.

I am not by nature a violent person. I don't like arguments with anyone. Last week I had a couple of spats with some friends and it left me feeling rubbish. I don't believe in violence as a solution to anything and am a pacifist to an almost pedantic degree.

So when I found myself punching myself in the head last night it was not usual. My head is still hurting now. There are definitely bruises. I woke up this morning and felt like someone had beaten me up (which to be fair they had). I have not experienced that sort of outburst of anger in a very long time. Nor have I ever been that violent before towards myself or anyone else. Which has led me to try and understand what on earth I was doing. I think I was trying to beat up the depression, which I know will sound bizarre. But I can't think of any other way to describe what I was doing. The anger at what the depression has done to me over the past ten years or so took over. I had no control. I wanted to attack the depression. But in doing that I was attacking me.

Which leads to the 'fear' side of things. Today I have been scared. Incredibly scared of myself. Which is the worst kind of fear. Being scared of other people or substances is relatively easy to deal with. You distance yourself from them. I know one of my friends has a stash of codeine tablets because every time I have had problems with them I have given them to him so that they go away. They disappear. But you can't do that with yourself. When you are your own enemy, when you are harming yourself, you can't get away. You are trapped with the person who is hurting you. And, with an unpredictable outburst like yesterday, I don't know when she is going to do it again.

I have spent today terrified of what would happen once I was by myself again. Would the anger come back? Would I be able to control it? Should I be asking to stay with a friend? Should I even be letting myself come home alone? I even started to think that maybe I should make a note on my computer of who I wanted to inherit different things in the event that I accidentally seriously hurt myself. Who would have my guitar, my music, my books? I was so afraid of myself that I was making contingency plans.

Now the anger that came out yesterday has always been there on the horizon while I have been recovering and writing. Thinking back to things I have said or written I can see that. The frustration that I have been feeling. The impatience. The resentment about the impact that depression has had on my relationships, my friendships, my work, my life. The anger has always been there in the background. But now suddenly it is centre-stage. And it is scary.

But after an hour of sitting on my sofa scared and alone this evening I took a decision. I'm not going to let it beat me. I am not going to let the anger hurt me. It needs to come out somehow. (I expect some more AC/DC and Guns n Roses are likely to be sung at full volume in the near future!) But I am not going to let the anger get me. Because if it does then the depression is getting me at the final hurdle.

I am scared. I would hazard a guess that anyone who has ever hurt themselves is scared. For me it felt like the oddest and most unnatural thing to do, even though I couldn't stop it. But I know that I'm not alone in this. I know that it happens. It is another facet of depression and anxiety. It doesn't happen to everyone, but it does happen to some people, and it is a part of my experience.

Something I found useful today was the following booklet on the mind website: http://www.mind.org.uk/help/diagnoses_and_conditions/self-harm. It has information about self-harm and also advice for those who have friends or family who self-harm. I hope others find it helpful as well.



Why I should live in a flat with carpets

There are two topics which come up quite frequently in what I write: patience and frustration. This evening I regret to say frustration won against patience. And it won in a quite different way to how it has in the recent past.

Historically when I have felt desperate I have resorted to alcohol and/or codeine. Those were always my substances of choice to abuse. Thankfully the wish to take things in order to pass out has gone. It has been a while since I have wanted to just pass out and not care about the consequences. And the feeling that I have now is not really best described as desperation. I'm not desperate anymore. Now I'm just cross.

I feel so much better than I did 5 months ago. Which I am very thankful for. But I am still having to work at it. I still have thoughts that come into my head which some of my friends correctly describe as 'bollocks'. I still have to work hard fighting those thoughts. And some of those thoughts have been in my head for a very long time and so I have accepted them as true. The most potent and critical thought for today's purposes being that people do not like to be around me and do not want to be around me.

And I know that that thought is wrong. I can see that there are myriad examples of why it is wrong. I can have my friends telling me it is bollocks. But I can't get it out of my head. And that frustrates me so much.

And so tonight, in a childlike attempt to get the thought out of my head, I thumped my head against the door. I punched the wall several times. Slammed myself at the door frame repeatedly. I then slapped myself so hard around the face that my ear rang. And to top it off once I had collapsed on the floor, I punched my head into the floor.

I was that frustrated. I just wanted to knock the depression out of me.

Now I do not recommend this as a course of action for anyone to take. Not least because my head now hurts and I am sincerely hoping the headache goes so that I can sleep. But I am writing this because I want to try and get across the sense of frustration that the lingering depression causes me to feel. The irritation when your brain comes up with bollocks and you can't dislodge it. The anger at having something else in your mind affecting how you think about things and just wanting it out. And that frustration and anger can lead to you doing some pretty daft things.

I am lucky. I actually told a friend what was going on and they didn't respond as if I was nuts. I rang the Samaritans and they listened and were understanding of how frustrated I am feeling at the moment. I have lifelines which I am able to use to calm me down. But I also think I might invest in some more bits of carpet for my wooden floor.

Out of sight, out of mind

There are various ways that I have described my recovery from depression. It is like a journey. Or an exponential curve on a graph. Or I talk in percentages. I use all these descriptions because I want to try and explain that there are gradients or stages or steps that I am going through. It is not a recovery which goes from one day being depressed to the next being cured and better. It is all on a sliding scale. Or at least for me it is.

The stage that I have currently reached is good. It is also exciting. The majority of the time I feel fine and I am getting on with life. I am back to work full time. I can spend evenings by myself and chill out by myself again. I am going out. I am living. All of which is fantastic and I really enjoy! And occasionally, maybe once a week or so, I can feel myself dipping a bit and going towards a depressive or anxious way of thinking. But generally I notice it, I pay attention to it, and I do something about it. And the dips are now matters of hours rather than days.

What I have noticed is that the dips tend to happen when I'm tired. And I think the reason for this is that the dips happen when I lose concentration.

You see while I am living a full life again, I am also still having to keep an eye on myself 24/7. I have lots of lovely friends and a supportive family who do what they can for me, but at the end of the day the buck stops with me. I'm single and I live by myself. I am my support at home. I am my own full time carer. I may be doing a lot on the outside and appear fine and normal to everyone else, but I am also constantly keeping an eye on myself. If I feel my thoughts starting to become negative I am the one who challenges them and sorts them out. In terms of processing what's happened in my past I am the one going back over those highly charged emotional experiences. No one can do that for me. And I am doing it almost all of the time.

Now this doesn't mean I am not grateful for the lovely wonderful people who are supporting me. There are times when it does all get a bit too much for me. If I get incredibly tired then I need support, as at those points I find it hard to look after myself. If something happens which would make anyone angry and upset then that can be a bit too much for me at the moment, and so again I need to reach out to people. And so many people have been so generous with their time and affection. I am continually overwhelmed by the people who want to be there for me.

But the really exhausting part at the moment is not the flash points, but the day-in-day-out minute by minute constant supervision of myself. And at the moment it is something that I need to do to look after myself. I am sure over time it will become less. But at the moment it is like a ticker tape constantly going in my mind all of the time. And as I've written about before, emotional things like this are more exhausting than I had ever let myself realise!

The other challenge of being at this stage is that because I look perfectly well to everyone else most of the time they appear to forget that there is anything wrong. I don't blame them for this. There are no outward manifestations of the depression. The tears are less, and I look less like a sleep-deprived zombie! But it does mean that I feel that I have to remind people that I am still exhausted because I am actually still recovering. I'm still not quite there yet. I still need time. The challenge of recognising that something is still wrong rears its ugly head once more!

And it's a difficult balance - I want people to treat me as me, not as a depressed person. I like the feeling of being back being myself. Doing work is fantastic and I enjoy it. Being out and chatting to my friends and the focus not being my depression is great! But at the same time I have to sometimes remember to rein myself in a bit. Or to remind other people. I have to keep that close eye on myself. At least for the moment.

Even if other people can't see what is going on any more, I need to occasionally look in the mirror and remind myself. It may be out of sight to most other people, but I need to keep it in mind.

There's still a little way to go. I'm not done yet! But I have every hope that at some point, hopefully not too far away, I will be.

In an ideal world

The ideal situation for me right now would be this. Everything, but me, would pause. And while everything was paused I would sit and think and work my way through how I am going to approach my life differently. How I am going to be myself. What things actually matter to me. What opinions I actually have about various things. I would use the time to form myself, to be content with who I am, not to dwell on the past but to actually learn from it and work out what I want to stay the same and what to change.

 

And I would take as long as I needed to piece all of that together. To work out how I want things to be going forwards. How I want to behave. I would take the time to challenge and remove all of the depressive thoughts and feelings that have accumulated over the past ten years and that have become second nature. All those thoughts and instinctive reactions which I actually detest.

 

And then, when I was done, I would press go again. I would be able to be myself in the world as I want to be. And if it upset people I would be ok with that, because I would know that I was at least being true to myself and my beliefs. And if I felt fed up about something I would know that I was fed up because it made complete sense to be fed up about a certain situation. I wouldn't have my perfectly normal feelings hijacked by the depression, because I would have dealt with it. I would be able to trust my feelings.

 

Unfortunately, that isn't how life works. Life keeps going around me.

 

So I do, or attempt to do, everything that is set out above. I try my hardest to fight and deal with the depression and the frustration and the anger. But I also have to live life at the same time. I have to encounter everything that anyone else encounters along the way: love, anger, disappointment, fear, friendships, arguments. Just every day life. The world doesn't stop while I sort myself out. It throws things at me. Some derail me more than others. Thankfully things are derailing me less. But it still means that when those things happen it can set me back. I can overreact. I tend to feel them more keenly.

 

Everything I am is on my sleeve at the moment. All of my emotions and experiences are exposed and raw. And living life with that is exhausting, unpredictable, and at times deeply emotionally draining.

 

Yes, I can handle life. Yes, I'm getting better. But I'm still learning so much about myself that normal everyday experiences almost become more important and more significant. Because those everyday things are just as much about me sorting myself out as they are about the experience itself.

 

Life goes on. There is no pause button. I have to walk on the broken leg. And sometimes it hurts.

Frustration

It has been pointed out to me that my previous post possibly came across as rather more aggressive and pointed than I had intended it to!

By way of clarification, when I talk about being frustrated I recognise that the reasons for my frustration may be unjustified and/or entirely unsubstantiated. My intention is never to criticise any other individual. My writing very much reflects what is going on in my head, which at some points in time may be entirely irrational. Especially when I am going through a patch where I feel that people don't understand me. This doesn't mean people don't understand me: it is simply a matter of how I perceive the situation I find myself in.

To anyone who may have been hurt by anything I have written I am truly sorry.

Fine lines and how nothing is 'perfect'

I haven't written for a while. The simple reason is that I haven't really felt that I have had anything useful or interesting to write! I have been feeling a lot better and just getting on with day to day life comfortable in my own skin. I might be wrong but I think posts saying 'this morning I got up and went to work and had a coffee etc.' aren't exactly entertaining or enlightening!! So quietness on my part is a good thing!

But over the past few days something has come up which I think it is important to write about.

I am a forceful advocate of the view that if you have depression you should try talking to someone, anyone, to help you to deal with it. My opinion remains the same - if you are in a very dark place then reaching out to someone who can give you perspective is important and can be life saving. It also helps you to engage with your feelings and emotions.

But I now feel that I need to place a caveat on that view. No situation or process is ever perfect. There will always be room for change and/or improvement.

So here is the imperfection of talking to people when you are depressed, or more to the point when you are recovering from being depressed:-

I have spoken to a lot of people; professionals, friends, family, acquaintances, strangers. I have opened up in order to work out what I think and feel. But no other person can ever properly understand what is going on in the mind of another person. Things move on over time, because we all encounter experiences day to day, or even minute to minute, that subtly alter how we approach life. Yes, we probably all have fundamental beliefs, but there are those gray areas that can change over time. Think about a song that you have heard which initially you hate and then grow to love, or vice-versa. Most people's views about things are not set in stone.

Now, as I recover from depression (and I am using the word recover because my own view is that that is what is going on) my views and opinions are subtly shifting. The way that I think about things is changing. Possibly faster than it usually would because there is a lot that I am re-assessing in one go. The nature of the illness is that it clouds how you think and causes you to be incredibly negative. So as that negativity goes it alters how I think. Similarly how I feel about things is changing, sometimes at quite a pace. And trust me, I am not going to pretend for a second that this development is anything other than a very good thing!!

But what it does mean is that people can't second guess how I think or feel as readily as maybe they assume they can. And this is where talking to people has started to present some real challenges. People I talk to (frequently people who are close to me) make assumptions as to what I must be thinking or feeling, or what must be going on with me, and what I want out of my life. Some of them are open-minded enough to realise that how I am approaching things has changed. But others are still telling me that 'of course [I] feel like X' (when in actual fact I don't!), and are running on a two month old view of how I am.

I am changing, but people's attitudes about me aren't keeping pace. Which is understandable: I'm with myself the whole time, whereas they see me at weekly or fortnightly intervals so they don't see the change happening.

But it is frustrating for me. I am enjoying getting better and feeling better! Being treated or talked to as if I were in the place I was a few months back makes me feel like I am being pulled back to that. I want to move forward with my life, and leave the reflection on the past to the quiet hour that I have with my therapist each week. I am not in the same place I was (thankfully!).

So maybe the caveat to talking is this: it has to be talking on your terms and to benefit you. At a certain point I have found that I have to take things other people say with a substantial pinch of salt. When other people tell me that I 'must' feel or think a certain thing I have to be brave enough either to tell them that they are wrong or to let it slide. I have to pick and choose what I want to take on board and what I don't. And when I feel like someone is mentally treading on my toes I need to step away.

Depression and getting over depression is a complicated thing. To be fair no one ever told me that it would be easy! You have to be open to the problem and protect yourself at the same time. It's all a matter of balance. But luckily for me I feel like I am getting there. Even if someone treads on my toes every now and again and makes me wince.

Post-script (on life in general rather than depression!): I think it is very dangerous to ever assume that you know what someone thinks whether that person has depression or not. If you don't know then, as far as I'm concerned, it is much better to ask them than to guess. We're all different, which is what makes life so interesting!

Patience

As anyone who knows me would tell you I'm not the most patient person in the world! In fact you don't need to ask someone who knows me, someone who has been around me for 15 minutes could tell you that I'm not the most patient person!! I tend to manage to be kind and patient with others. But when it comes to me or my life I want things to be sorted out as soon as possible. I am not good at allowing myself time.

 

We are now into November. And I am frustrated. I am frustrated that I am not 100% (or let's say 95%) all the time. Today I am calm and I am fine and feeling like myself (which is great and I am definitely enjoying!!). But generally speaking in a week I will have 5 good days, 1 bad day and 1 recovery day after the bad day. This seems to roughly reflect the pattern I am going through.

 

Objectively speaking this means that actually I am only having 1 day a week where I am feeling depressed or seriously anxious. (I hope the mathematicians out there would agree that this is about 14.3% of the time.) Compared to how I was in July when I was depressed and anxious every day (I can reliably calculate that as 100% of the time!) I know that this is a clear improvement.

 

But I'm not done yet! I am not happy that there is that 1 day!!

 

Ultimately I want to feel better at least 95% of the time. And it isn't because I am overly ambitious (which I am but that isn't the reason). And it isn't because I feel that I need to be better to make my family and/or friends happy. I want to feel better because it is so much nicer than feeling depressed!

 

I've written about how being depressed feels, about how it makes me feel lonely, it distances me from people, and it causes me to act in ways that in hindsight I regret. Having now had a serious taste of what I am like without the depression I want to be without it all the time!

 

And this desire coupled with the impatience means that while I am only 4 months into properly sorting all of this stuff out, I still want to get it sorted as soon as possible.

 

Other people are very kind. They point out to me that getting from 100% to 14.3% in 4 months is astonishing, especially given that I'm working to deal with something that has been going on for over a decade. Working my way through everything that has happen and learning how to be myself without depression was never going to happen overnight, or in a month, and will take time.

 

But the wish to feel better does mean that when I do have a down day it hits me pretty hard. Fundamentally because I don't want to have a down day! I hate the down days. And I hate how the depression has impacted on my life. Yes, I accept the impact it has had, but that doesn't mean that I am happy about it!!

 

And so maybe the impatience doesn't help me because it means that those days do feel pretty awful at the moment. But I also know that I am very lucky to have this drive, and that if I didn't I wouldn't have got to where I am in 4 months. Or have the drive to keep going to get that 14.3% even lower.

 

Facing up to everything in June/July was definitely the hardest and scariest thing I have ever done in my life. I also now know that it was definitely the most important thing. And so I remain very firmly of the view that anyone else suffering should at least consider trying to talk to someone - even if it is just one person who you feel able to trust.

 

In my experience it has quite literally changed my life. By a whole 85.7%!

 

Impaired judgment

When you find out (and/or accept and admit) that you have depression and anxiety it can be a relief. You can finally understand why you were feeling so awful all the time, and the incessant worrying has a reason. These are both quite comforting things. You know that you are not just 'nuts'. You're poorly.

 

But I am finding that there is another side to it. As I was writing yesterday, as I feel progressively better it feels like a veil has been lifted and I can suddenly see what a difference being unwell has made to my outlook on life. This is both a welcome discovery and an unsettling one. Things feel very different now. In my case my relationships with some people feel very different. And it is making me look back and question what has been going on. I am looking back on events that have happened in an entirely different light. And it is making me question what I actually thought and felt at the time. And question how much of what I thought and felt was 'genuine' me and how much was caused by the depression and the anxiety.

 

The feeling that something else has had a strong influence on your decisions and actions is a disturbing one. Not knowing the limits of that influence is also troubling.

 

I know that I can't go back and do things again. The exercise that I am now undertaking is more one of rebuilding. But what makes this exercise tricky is that I can't have a 'fresh start' with things. I have to live with the consequences of what happened while I was depressed and at my lowest. I have to accept the things that I did and said. I can't take any of it back and I can't 'blame' the depression for all of it. I just have to build on what I have left. And hope that the depression and the way that I acted while it had a hold of me hasn't done too much damage.

 

I am frequently informed that people who actually matter will understand this and forgive me for things I have said and done. I sincerely hope that that is true.

 

 

We're not in Kansas anymore...

When you are feeling down and depressed it is very difficult to imagine how you would feel if you weren't down and depressed. It's like when you have a bad bout of the flu and you find it difficult to remember what it was like to be able to breathe without it being a struggle and to think straight without your sinuses being clogged up.

Then there's that feeling that you have when the flu is gone and you feel better. That absence of feeling rubbish and feeling normal is great. But it's difficult to put your finger on because in someways it's not a matter of feeling better, it's the fact that you no longer feel ill. The absence of feeling rubbish. And you're back to normality.

I have written about how I don't feel that I have been myself and the fact that I feel like there is a mask between me and other people. Because of the depression I was behaving and being a person that I considered to be a very poor caricature of myself. And it frustrated me beyond belief. I was so concerned about the fact that other people weren't seeing me for the person that I actually am. And the wonderful thing about feeling better and being honest with people (and writing this blog!) is that people are now seeing the 'real' me.

But what I didn't anticipate is how much feeling better would change how I look at everything. I've tried to describe before how it feels to be getting better. It is difficult to describe because it is the absence of something that has been in the way. It is like there have been road works going on non-stop and now there is that silence after they have stopped. I think it is also like when you have a computer on constantly and you get used the fans buzzing, but then you switch it off and you are suddenly aware that a sound you got used to is gone. Well that's what's going on with me at the moment.

As part of my depression I have had a lot of anxiety. And by anxiety I don't mean 'worrying'. Everyone worries about things now and again, but you tend to think of something that worries you, do something about it or if you can't just put it to the back of your mind, and then get on with things. Sometimes bigger worries stick around and mean that you are preoccupied for most of the day. But for most people (as I understand) they pass. For me for at least the past two years (possibly longer I can't quite place it but I am certain it was in play two years ago) I have been preoccupied and anxious almost every single day. It has distracted me from my work. It has stopped me doing things I would like to do, or saying things I would like to say. It has been like a constant self-critical noise murmuring in the back of my head the whole time. A constant doubt about every decision I make and every situation I am in.

And now it is stopping!

The fact that it is stopping is wonderful. Don't get me wrong! But it is also a bit confusing. That buzzing has been there for a very long time, and I had got used to it. And life without it is exciting but all a bit new!

I also find that there are some things that have happened in the past couple of years and now when I look back I'm a bit confused as to how much the anxiety was affecting my outlook then. It is like someone has suddenly taken a pair of glasses off my face while saying 'hang on this is the wrong prescription'. Life all looks a little bit different.

Now I know that this might sound a bit like the 'other room' feeling that I've talked about before. That sense that I am in a parallel universe. But this time it's not. This is a positive feeling. It is a feeling of having the wool lifted from my eyes. Of having a wall that was in the way knocked down. Of actually being comfortable and calm. And it is an amazing feeling!!!

It's just a very new feeling, and I anticipate it is going to take me a little while to get used to it!

Music

There are things that help with depression which make sense. Medication (for those who are able to take it and for whom it doesn't have horrible side effects) obviously makes sense. The most common drugs cause more 'happy hormones' to be absorbed in the synapses of your brain and therefore your mood goes up (I'm not a GP or chemist so I'm giving a very rough explanation of what goes on!).

 

Similarly the fact that therapy helps makes sense. Dealing with past traumas that you didn't properly deal with at the time and talking through how your brain works so that you have a better understanding of yourself logically should help. And for me I know that it does help.

 

Talking to friends helps. Again, this makes sense - spending time with people who like to be around me generally makes me feel better! Realising that worries I have are not unusual helps. And talking about how rubbish some things have been actually gives me perspective.

 

But the thing which I have never particularly been able to understand is why music helps as much as it does.

 

I used to think that music helped because when I'm performing I can get out a whole load of mixed emotions in one go. If I'm playing violin or piano those emotions are wordless, and incredibly powerful. When I'm singing, even if it's other people's lyrics, it helps me to express myself in a way that I never can when I am simply talking to people. I've had plenty of people who consider that I have a 'big voice' for a 'small person'. Maybe it's just that I have a lot that I channel when I'm singing! It is fantastically cathartic.

 

But the interesting bit, and the bit that I don't quite understand, is that listening to music helps as well. In particular live music.

 

I've been very lucky over the past couple of weeks (and months and years) in that I've been able to go to some really good live gigs. And the effect is always the same. Afterwards I feel much more myself. I feel grounded and energised at the same time. Even if while I've been at the gig my mind has touched on things that have upset me or that I feel uncomfortable and unsure about, I still come out the other end feeling better. During one of the best gigs that I went to this year I spent a good patch of it concerned that I was 'unwanted' but it didn't upset me nearly as much as those thoughts usually would. The music kept me safe.

 

Now I am a fairly rational and logical person. I like to understand things. And the effect that music has I don't understand! But I think that it is something that I can be happy not understanding simply because it is that powerful and that effective that I'm happy just to 'go with the flow'.

 

I don't know whether this is something that works for anyone else. The size of the audiences when I go to gigs would suggest that it does! But I find the effect that music has fascinating and just a bit magical.

Taking things personally

I feel this post needs a caveat at the outset:-

Everything I am writing about today is very much about how my depression has come about and how it has affected me. I imagine that others may have had similar experiences but this post is not intended to reflect a generalised view of depression or to be an account of what life is like for anyone with depression. This one is very much about me.

There are a number of reasons why I think I have ended up with depression. Maybe reasons is putting it too strongly. But there are certain things that have happened that have lead me to this point. From a relatively early age, because of circumstances at the time, I stopped actually telling people if I was sad, happy, angry or anything else. I closed myself down quite effectively and have sort of maintained that ever since. Which can be a useful defence mechanism for a short time. Or can turn into a bit of a problem if allowed to continue.

And the difficulty for me was that my life, especially during my late teens and early twenties, took me through quite a few experiences in quick succession where a highly emotional response would have been appropriate. Given I'd learnt to close off and hide behind a mask I didn't have those emotional responses. Which all seem to be flooding out now! I've written about the phaeo and about my grandmother dying (both of which were fairly close in time). There were also other events that I'm not going to write about because they involve other people.

But let's just say that because of the string of events I got to the point where I felt like screaming at the world 'why me?!'. And that feeling has stuck with me and has been present for quite some time. In fact I found myself stood in the drizzle outside a pub only a month or so ago talking to a friend and basically saying 'why me?' and 'what have I done wrong?' over and over again.

And I can't remember whether this precise phrase came from the person I was talking to outside the pub but the phrase that came up was - 'it's nothing personal'.

I have come to the conclusion that if you are depressed, or you are not engaging properly with what is going on because you feel incapable of expressing your emotions, it can lead to a 'why me?' sort of feeling. In bottling things up everything gets heightened and the emotions become more intense and last longer. I do still feel that I have been incredibly unlucky with the series of events that have happened to me. Some of the experiences that I have had to deal with (like the phaeo and the fear of dying in surgery) are ones I would have rather approached much later in life. But the fundamental problem is the opening up and engaging with those experiences at the time so that they can happen, be acknowledged, and so that one can (to use the horribly trite and overly simplistic phrase) 'move on'.

And I'm writing this now because the last few days have lead me to a bit of a 'why me?' feeling again.

As you all know I hadn't been having a fantastic time over the past few days. Not as bad a dip as in the past, but a definite dip nonetheless. I was feeling very lonely and particularly questioning how much being depressed and dealing with depression interrelates with my personal relationships. Monday was not much fun. I think going to Court stressed me out. There were also other things going on. Then on Monday night I started getting stressed about a talk I was supposed to be giving at work on Tuesday. I woke in the night panicking. I got to my desk yesterday morning and couldn't think straight. I was sat at my desk in tears unable to think myself out of the anxiety. And I basically spent yesterday having to sort through and sift the panic and get myself back on track.

And I managed it. It took a while. It took lots of talking to a variety of people. But I was back to sorted pretty much.

And then the universe decided to throw me a curve ball!

I wrote on the 25th about the kind helpful person I met two years ago. Well, two years ago on 30th October I met someone who can lay claim to being in the top 3 people who have most managed to screw me up ever. (I won't be making them a medal!) Having not seen this person for about a year I bumped into them yesterday evening, by chance, walking down the street. On exactly the same day that I met them 2 years ago. And seeing them shook me up.

Now because I'm me, and because of what I am dealing with at the moment, I was absolutely fine when I saw them (emotions neatly bottled), and then fell apart about an hour and a half later in a stream of 'why me?' 'why on earth universe have you decided to present this person to me when I've had a crap couple of days and I'm not feeling 100%?' and 'why is it exactly 2 years on - I mean are you trying to script Dawson's Creek or something?!'

But this is where the story changes slightly. You see if this had happened 6 months ago I would have been a wreck for days. I would have pretended I was fine. I would have been closed off and distant. I would have carried on thinking 'why me?'.

This time I had some dinner, started to cry, let myself cry, and sat down with a friend and we drank tea and talked through the whole thing and I had a good rant. And realised that anyone bumping into someone they would rather not see is going to be thrown. It wasn't 'just me'. Anyone being presented with doing a talk at work to people more senior than them is going to feel stressed. It wasn't 'just me'. Anyone going back into Court after several months off and feeling vulnerable is going to feel stressed. It wasn't 'just me'.

And so this morning I am sat here thinking that actually what has happened is no indictment on who I am, what I have done with my life, or anything else like that. Other people make mistakes and that is actually their fault - it's not my fault for being ill, or difficult or anything else. Things happen in life because that is how life happens. Sometimes there is no reason.*

None of it is personal.

And do you know what the key was for discovering all these things? Actually throwing my pride out the window, allowing myself to cry, and talking to people. It really does work.

*Note to the people who have told me this before - sometimes it takes a while for these things to sink in! Even more reason to keep talking.

As predictable as weather

Yes, I know that you could all see this coming. This was easier to work out than who the bad guy was in The Usual Suspects and far more obvious than the plot twist at the end of The Sixth Sense!

 

I started today feeling crap.

 

For the past 24 hours or so I've been heading back down on a nice little spiral. I've been tired out after the leaps and bounds forwards of the past fortnight. I had a whole day by myself yesterday. I had a series of comments made and reminders given of things over the past year. And I started feeling pretty shit to put it bluntly.

 

This morning I found myself sat in Court (don't worry I hadn't done anything wrong, I'm a barrister) and I felt like I wanted to cry. A grown up woman sat in the waiting room feeling like she was about to burst into tears. And what's worse was being sat there feeling like I wanted to burst into tears when around me were people being evicted or being separated from their children. People who had every justification for wanting to cry! Unlike the silly woman in the suit!!

 

Of course that just helped the 'bullying side' of the depression get to me even more.

 

It's times like these when I think 'should I have done something sooner'. Maybe last night, as I felt myself slipping, I should have rung someone. Anyone. But to be honest I just felt too tired to make the effort. Instead I lay on my sofa feeling awful and just wishing that someone would turn up and make me a cup of tea (it's not that I require much - company and a cup of tea are generally sufficient).

 

This is the difficulty with feeling depressed. To get out of the spirals takes so much will-power. And if you're already feeling low and tired having that will-power can be a bit tricky. I also tend to end up going into a ranty mood as well. Why should I have to be the person always reaching out to other people? Why aren't they volunteering and coming forward? Don't I deserve better than this?!

 

I'm a charmer once I get into one of those moods!

 

But I suppose the upside is that I got in touch with my A-Team of supporters this morning and for once a plan did come together. Fairly rapidly and fairly haphazardly. And already I can feel myself picking up once again.

 

Now while I don't particularly like resembling a yo-yo I suppose the good news is that the dips down are becoming less frequent, and I'm getting better at taking steps to get out of them. But even then there are still times when I feel so horribly alone and helpless that I do wish that 'wishing' were enough. That I could magic people out of thin air by just thinking about them being there rather than having to push myself to write an e-mail or pick up the phone.

 

Dealing with depression is a struggle - make no mistake about it.

 

 

(PS I don't know why there are quite so many film references today - there just are.)

 

Here I go again on my own...

For me this past week has seen a significant return to 'normality'. There have been less conversations about my depression and me, which I actually quite like! I have been spending more time talking to my friends about what they are up to. I have been talking about all sorts of things. The focus has been shifting away from depression and more back to normal life.

Work has been getting back to normal. Unlike the situation five months ago when I was unable to read basic paper work, I can now get through things quickly. I received a set of papers today and had worked out the answer in about 5 minutes, and was able to act on it with no anxiety, no distraction, no fear of failure. I was working again!

I have been going out. And going out without any fear that the people I see won't want to see me. Actually just being myself and relaxed in other people's company.

And all of this is great! There is no doubt about that.

But, as I wrote earlier in the month, it was never going to be the case that several years' worth of depression was going to be gone in a matter of months. There is a long way still to go.

Which leads me to where I am this evening - feeling absolutely shattered! (Again!)

My return to 'normality' while very welcome also means that I am doing a lot more, and doing things makes me tired! I have had four months when I haven't really been working properly and I have had a lot of time to rest. Now I am back to full on 'real life'.

And on top of real life there is also an awareness that I want to continue to be honest with myself and others about how I am feeling. Rather than hiding behind a veneer of being 'fine' I am trying to engage with how I actually feel about things. I am actually letting myself cry when I remember sad things. I am recognising when I am angry and not burying it. And that process in and of itself is hard work and tiring - mainly because it is new. Admittedly it is probably not as tiring as hiding it all was, but the change means that it takes a bit of thought and will power.

This is a new 'normality' for me. In some ways it's a new way of living life. There are new routines to learn. New thoughts. Working out how to live my life for myself and to put myself first. Sometimes it requires a bit of a double take. A bit of thinking. And that on top of normal everyday life means that I reach the end of this week feeling goddamn tired!!

And feeling tired is when I know I'm at my most vulnerable. It's when I'm liable to stop talking, to hide myself away, to not have the energy to reach out. It's when I find it hardest to do all the things that I know I should to keep myself on the right track.

So tonight - when I feel at my weakest - I'm writing here to remind myself that I need to have that ounce of energy to pick up the phone, to tell someone I don't feel quite ok, to do all the things I recommend other people do, to try and do as I've said not as I've done in the past. And I have to tell you changing the habit of a life time is hard work. But I'm not going to stop trying.

25th October

Two years ago today I met someone important for the first time. My initial view of them was 'scruffy'. I can't say that that view has wholly changed! But it is no longer the first word that comes to mind when I see them.

This person matters because they are primarily responsible for me having got to where I am now for all sorts of reasons (which I refuse to categorise as good or bad). They listened to me. They pushed me. They stopped me from doing very real harm to myself. They made me face up to how badly things with me were. They encouraged me to get help. And they have had faith in me when I haven't had any left.

It would be overly simplistic to say that they have been nice to me. At times they haven't been! But they have always been exactly what I needed, when I needed it, even when I didn't know that that was what I needed.

So you'll all have to forgive me if I write a short post today that doesn't give any particular insight at all.

I just want to say 'thank you' to the person who has been here through this whole thing and who hasn't run away.

A conundrum for a Monday morning

When I had my last serious 'bout' of depression in 2009 I came across a difficulty: someone who had got to know me while I was very seriously depressed got very grumpy with me as I got better. The problem was that they had got to know me while I was in a very dark place. The 'well version' of me was not someone that they knew. They got confused and incredibly antagonistic. It was almost like they resented me getting better because I was changing. And that was very difficult for me to deal with - especially because I wanted to get better and didn't want anything or anyone holding me back!

 

The upshot was that I had a massive falling out with that person and I haven't spoken to them since.

 

I am anxious that I am now entering a similar phase. The added difficulty though is that I am not just recognising that for the past four-six months I have been seriously depressed. I am facing up to the fact that I have been depressed on and off for the past ten years. I haven't been 'myself' around a lot of people. This means that almost everyone in my life (with very few exceptions) has got used to a version of me which, as far as I am concerned, is not me. Or is a version of me tainted by the depression.

 

Now the changes are subtle. And on the whole I get the impression that people prefer the version of me that is upbeat and getting on with life, rather than the version which is constantly down. They appear to prefer that version for the most part because they care about me and they would rather see me happy.

 

But I can't help but feel a bit nervous that there are some people who are uncomfortable with the fact that I am changing. They want to think that they know me and understand me. The fact that I might not be exactly who they thought I was seems to disconcert them. Again, this is not their fault, they don't know me any differently, and it is always odd when you find out something about someone and realise they are actually not what you thought they were.

 

And herein lies the conundrum - I don't want to lose my friends, but I want to get better. So is the answer that I just have to be strong and sacrifice any friends who can't understand? I don't think the answer can be that I stop trying to recover properly. Surely the friends who matter will stick with me and will want me to get better?

 

Maybe it isn't a conundrum at all but simply another aspect of depression being quite isolating, but in a different way.

 

All I do know is that I will never presume that I understand anyone else completely as I know first-hand that there are quite a few people who don't understand me completely, even if they think they do.

Everyone's different

What I have tried very hard to do when I am writing is to emphasise that people will and do experience depression in different ways. I do not hold myself out as the font of all knowledge when it comes to depression. Nor do I consider myself to be a typical person who has suffered from depression. I am simply a person who has had depression, and who has gone through various experiences because of that.

The one thing I know for certain is that at every single stage of my personal journey I have been met by understanding and a lack of understanding in equal measure. I do not criticise anyone. I have had friends who have been more supportive than I ever would have anticipated. But I also feel that at every stage of my journey there have been people who don't get it.

And the absence of understanding even presents itself at this point - recovery.

I consider myself to be a very lucky individual. I am finding ways to deal with my depression which means that I now feel as good as I did when I was fourteen. This is more than I could ever have hoped for, and I had almost given up hope that I could have this much calm and confidence ever again. But I know that what is true for me is not the same as for everyone else. One of my grandmothers suffered with depression all her life. It was only at her funeral that I got the opportunity to talk to people who had known her as a young woman. The people I talked to described a vivacious charismatic woman who I sadly never knew. I know from seeing her that depression can be with someone right up until the day they die.

I don't think that will be the case for me, but I find that many people cannot understand that my depression can be treated and overcome.

And this is the most important thing about understanding depression: what is true for one person is not the same as for another. The only tangible analogy I can think up is that of cancer. And I hope that this will not offend or upset anyone. There are people who become horribly ill and never recover from cancer. It is terminal and there is nothing that anyone can do other than make the pain a little less and comfort someone. Then again, there are people who have cancers that are treated. They get better. They have to be checked up every now and again, but they are cured and they live long and happy lives.

To be entirely honest I almost fall into that later category. When I was 19 I had an operation to remove a phaeochromocytoma (an adrenaline producing tumour). While not technically classified as a cancer, a web search of phaeochromocytoma will bring up a list of 'rare cancer' websites. It was a tumour that could have given me a stroke or heart attack, and because of the hormones it caused to be produced the operation to remove it had to be carefully planned. I went into that operation with a realistic expectation that I might not come out the other side. But they did remove it. I did get better. And while I have to be checked every year to make sure I haven't grown another of the damn things, I am physically healthy.

I view my depression in the same way. It is something that can be treated. My therapy has flagged up for me that a lot of my problems have stemmed from going through a series of situations when I was younger and not talking about them. Not accepting that I was allowed to be unhappy or sad or grieve. Closing myself off from the world. As I learn to open up again the depression and the dark feelings have started to subside and I can finally feel like myself again.

Now I am not naive enough to think that the rest of my life will be perfect! There will be other situations in the future that may upset me. I can't know how I will deal with those, but I hope and trust I will deal with them better. And while maybe I will always have half an eye to check that the depression has not crept back, I will be able to live without it affecting my day to day life.

And that will be my story. Sadly it wasn't the story for my grandmother, for whom depression was always there. I can't tell you whether it will be the story for other people or not. I can only speak for myself. But the message I want to get across is that for as many different people as there are out there there are that many different experiences of depression. Everyone will go through it differently: it will have different causes, different effects, different outcomes. None of that means that what someone is going through is any less serious or deserving of attention.

I have been lucky in so many ways: the friends I have, the fact that I can be treated, the fact that after ten years of searching I have finally found my way back to myself. I hope other people can be as lucky. And for those who are not I simply pray that people will have more understanding.

Finding what works

This morning I have woken up to what seems to be another day where I actually feel fine. This is very exciting for me as this is the fourth day in a row!

And when I say 'fine' I am not pretending that everything is ok and hiding behind the word 'fine'. Nor am I saying that today I feel elated and as if I could jump over the moon! I just feel normal. I feel that today could be a good day or a bad day, but whatever day it turns out to be is not set in stone. It will not definitely be a bad unhappy day. It's just another day and I'm living in it.

Feeling like this is, as I say, very exciting for me. It's been a very long time since I have felt this comfortable in my own skin. I've had various periods of time when I have been near to this. But it has been an exceptionally long time since I have felt this relaxed and settled about things. My brain is not working overtime trying to predict what might go wrong today. I can focus on what I'm actually doing and I'm not distracted. I can even have moments where actually I am thinking of nothing at all! It's like roadworks have been going on in my head non-stop and now they've finally all packed up and gone home and there is that wonderful and extra special quiet that follows.

And all this has got me to thinking - why is this happening now?

I think the answer is that I've finally found a treatment for my depression that works. And I count myself as incredibly lucky that that has happened.

I have gone through a whole range of treatments over the past decade. I've had individual counselling: talking and telling people about what has happened. I have had a very kind priest try and talk me through cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) methods and just listen to me and give me endless cups of tea. I've been put into group sessions focused on building self-esteem through positive reinforcement phrases and 'self-care'. I've seen a psychologist who took me through CBT methods properly. I've been on medication to try and reduce anxiety. I've done guided self-help to get through anxiety and insomnia.

I've tried a full spectrum of treatments and a large number of people (professional and others) have done their best to help me. And still the upshot every time was that I would think I had got better and then I would relapse into depression at some point.

Looking back at those various experiences I know that the problem was that when the treatment was over in each case I had returned to a point where I could 'manage'. I could get by. And as I wrote in my post about admitting that you still have a problem, each time I had got back to where I was immediately before things started to go badly wrong, rather than getting back to the point before things went wrong at all.

But this time it definitely feels different. I say that with a certain amount of caution as I know that I am still getting better, and I do have further to go. But there is no doubt: for me the psychotherapy this time is really working. I know it is working because I am sat here typing and I feel calm, and find it almost strange to remember being in this room 4 months ago and feeling so desperate that I was taking as many codeine tablets as I could possibly manage. I know that feeling like I do now is the real me, and that back then I was very ill indeed and desperately needed help.

I suppose the main point I want to make is that it can take time to find a method to actually treat depression properly. I imagine that different treatments will also suit different people. It's not easy to tell when they have worked properly and when they haven't. In my case it is only now after a very long period of trial and error that I have finally found something that does work. And when you are vulnerable it is very difficult to push for the treatment that is right for you. Frequently you will be in a position where you don't even feel able to make that choice.

All I can suggest is that if you have depression you try and understand the range of treatments out there before settling on one. And if one doesn't feel like it is working don't be afraid to discuss that with your GP or therapist, or to change if it becomes necessary. If you know someone with depression then try to make them aware of what there is out there. It is never the right thing to force treatment on anyone. Nor is it the right thing to force a particular type of treatment on anyone. But (as I keep saying!) I firmly believe that if people know more about depression and how to deal with it then there is a much better chance of people recovering.

There is some incredibly useful information on the Mind website http://www.mind.org.uk/ about different types of treatment and also how those without depression can support and help.

And if you visit the website why not have a look at the post I wrote for them http://www.mind.org.uk/blog/7554_the_loneliness_of_depression_and_the_importance_of_talking

Uphill struggle

I've written a lot about the feelings to do with being depressed. I've talked less about what it feels like to actually try to overcome depression.

I am a firm believer that, in my case, my depression won't be with me forever. I know that some people aren't that lucky and they have to deal with depression and control it every day. But I truly feel that one day this will all recede into the past and life will feel a bit more normal. I suppose that hope and belief is what keeps me going at the moment.

I have taken the decision to deal with my depression without anti-depressants (I tried them briefly and they made me feel physically very ill). This means that I am dealing with the depression through what are called 'talking therapies'. What this involves is talking about the events, thoughts and feelings associated with my depression. And to be entirely frank it is exhausting. Each hour long session is more taxing and intellectually demanding that any exam that I have done on any degree, or the most difficult problem I have faced at work. I come out at the end of it feeling as if I have been knocked about from side to side. Often I have been in tears for a great part of the session. Today I nearly started to drift off to sleep in the middle of the therapy session because talking about the issues we were discussing was that exhausting and draining!

Now I have done some tiring things in my life! Intellectually tiring. Physically tiring. But I don't think I have ever been this emotionally tired.

And it doesn't just stop with the sessions. Because all of the thoughts I'd rather forget about are being brought to the surface I have nightmares and vivid dreams. I have conversations with my family and friends. I am reliving all the difficult experiences of the past decade all in one go. In a constant stream of discussions, conversations, and (occasionally) arguments.

At this point in time I am absolutely shattered! And I quite frequently tell those close to me that I just wish I could give up. I wish at this point in time someone could parachute me out of this. I want the short-cut to the finish. I am getting seriously grumpy and fed up. I just want to stop. 

But I don't.

Fundamentally I have hope. Hope that I can beat this. Hope that once this long tortuous process is over I will know myself better and I will be so much better equipped to deal with whatever life throws at me in the future. Better able to be myself and be open with the people I love.

And I suppose the fact that I have that hope, and it is getting more and more powerful, shows that all the therapy and the talking is working, no matter how hard it is. And it's just a matter of taking a deep breath and fighting on.