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.

Not being myself

As any of my close friends will tell you, one of the things that frustrates me the most about my depression is the feeling that I am not 'being myself' or that I haven't been myself at various points in time over the past few years.

I have been variously described as sulky, sensitive, quiet, prone to focus on the negative - and I don't feel that any of these words actually describes who I am and what I am like.

It was actually the first thing this year that made me realise that something wasn't right and that I might be getting more depressed. One of my colleagues at work told me that I was known as 'sulky girl'. Having been told that I went into my office and started crying on my desk. As far as I am aware I have never been 'sulky' in my life. I have always been fairly upbeat and positive about anything and everything (no matter how awful) and yet I was being told that everyone at work thought I was sulky. I hated hearing that about myself.

It was then that I realised I really wasn't being myself.

As far as I am concerned (and I think my family and my oldest friends would agree with this) I am a ridiculous ball of energy. I am always on the go, always poking fun at things, quite outspoken and not afraid to say exactly what I think, have a stupid sense of humour (I once nearly burst my stitches laughing during a game of Trivial Pursuit!), find the positive in any and every situation, have far too much faith in the fact that things will work out, and just want to help other people all the time.

When I was called sulky it was describing someone completely different. I noticed that I was focusing on negative things (one of my friends who only got to know me well quite recently told me that I 'always' focus on the negative). Every problem that I faced had become a massive problem, from which I could see no positive outcome. I was spiralling down further and further into depression and losing myself and my own character in the process.

Now I know that people who have met me while I've been depressed find it difficult when I say that I feel like I have been someone else and that they don't quite know me. As far as they are concerned they do know me. Not every day I have spent with them has been a bad day. They have seen glimpses of the 'real me'.

And thinking about it, they are probably right to a certain extent. But it's not quite as straightforward as saying they know me, because they have got to know me with depression. And depression does, in my experience, alter how you behave and how your character comes across. 

So how do I describe it from my point of view? The nearest and best metaphor I feel I can find is that, for me, it feels like my depression is a mask.

Some days it feels like a full mask covering my whole face. I don't appear like myself at all. It takes away my whole character and replaces me with someone who is sad and down and can't function. As I've said before, on days like that it feels like someone else is doing my thinking for me. I feel like another person. And not a person I like very much. As far as I am concerned on those days the outside world doesn't see me at all.

On other days it feels like there is a half mask. So people can see part of who I am, but it still feels like there is a block between me and them. Whether it is that on that day most of my personality is coming out, but I am having a day where I can't see that there is anything positive to be had out of life. I can joke about how crap things are, but still not see the silver lining. Or maybe I feel fine, but I am just sat quietly in the corner not actually joining in in conversations as I'm too afraid to talk to people properly.

Then some days it is just an eye mask. My whole personality is there but there is still that small bit of distance between me and my friends. That slight darkness that I can't shake. Something about me that is still hidden. But thankfully on those days the people close to me can see a lot more of me and do get to know more of the 'real me'.

I hope that in time I can get rid of the mask completely because I want people to know me without the depression in the way. And I honestly feel that I am now having more days where I am getting closer and closer to that. But it still doesn't stop it being the thing that frustrates me the most! It's been there in some shape or form for the better part of a decade and I'm sick and tired of it getting in the way.

And so I keep fighting for the moment when I can take the mask off for good and jump up and down on it! (Metaphorically speaking of course!)

What do I mean by down?

WARNING: If you are someone who is suffering from depression or has suicidal thoughts then please take care in reading this post. As always I write purely from my own point of view and my own experiences, but these may trigger similar thoughts in others. If you in any way feel that this might be the case for you then please do read this with someone else or at a time when you feel more comfortable doing so.

In response to my most recent blog post I received a quite lengthy comment. Within that comment was a question about whether it is possible when I am feeling down for me to realise that the 'bad feeling' will go. The short answer is that frequently, when I'm at my worst, 'no' - I can't do that. It struck me that this is probably another aspect of depression that could do with an explanation.

When I feel incredibly depressed - what I refer to as 'down' - it feels like there is nothing good. When I talk in my other posts about crying and being inconsolable it is because on those occasions I have ended up feeling like there is no point. That there is nothing I can do to change anything. I can't change me life and I can't change my feelings. That I am trapped. That there is simply no joy in the world whatsoever. It feels like there is nothing worth living for.

Imagine that feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach when something truly bad happens. That initial stab of pain when you discover that a relative or close friend has died. That horrible inexplicable feeling of loss and sadness. It is a feeling that is difficult to describe because (in my experience) it is a feeling of sheer emptiness. Often people refer to it as a feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Now try to imagine that that feeling doesn't get replaced by happy thoughts about that person's life and fond memories. It doesn't get replaced with a sense of acceptance. That initial hurt just stays. And the pain and fear that you feel stay as well.

Now take that feeling and take away the reason. Nothing in particular has happened at all. You were just getting on with your day. And then it is there. A feeling of sheer emptiness and an absence of hope. A feeling that nothing is right. That you can't change it or make it better. A feeling of sheer despair and pain.

And nothing shakes it. A friend can sit with you and tell you that it'll pass. But you simply can't believe them. And what's worse you are convinced that they are wrong. You can't imagine feeling any differently to how you do at that moment in time. Scared and alone and trapped in your own mind and feelings. Sometimes you can't even engage with the thought that one day in the past, at some point, you did actually smile. You can look at the friend with you and try and remember when you last had a good time with them, when you were laughing. But all of that feels like it was something that happened to someone else. Or you were pretending to be happy back then. The fear and darkness that has crept up on you is the 'real world' for you. And no one can convince you otherwise.

If you are by yourself then the situation can often be worse. In my case because I just want to stop that feeling of emptiness. It is so powerful and overwhelming and intense and you just want it to stop. You want to be out of that horrible place in your mind where you are so completely trapped. You want to go to sleep and never wake up - just so that you can escape from the complete and utter desolation that you are feeling. And so you take anything you can to try and knock yourself out and to escape.

In that place all rational thought has gone. All that matters is how you feel. And in my case I feel worthless and alone and that my being me is so thoroughly pointless. It is like something else has taken over your mind and taken it away from you. Someone else is doing your thinking. Your mind is not yours anymore.

Over time that feeling does pass. Luckily, for me, I have never done myself any significant damage while it has had hold of me. Although I can't attribute that to my own ability to prevent myself or to do anything rational - that is very much down to other people who have cared for me and have quite literally held onto me when I was all to willing to just let go.

For me feeling 'down' now happens less often than it did. But when I have had a series of 'good' days or even weeks, I do sometimes get scared about when and where the next 'down' will happen. Because I know that when it does I am near helpless.

Relative sympathy

There are a few phrases that I have come to hate over the past few months. One of them is 'cry for help', which I think is number one on my list of nonsense phrases that people should be banned from using. But the more pervasive and dangerous phrase is the one that doesn't always get said out loud: 'snap out of it'.

 

Before my depression was actually diagnosed I felt like there was a strong view that I should just 'snap out of it' and stop being miserable all the time. In fact that view had been there for a good ten years or so. And a lot of it probably wasn't coming from other people, it was probably something that I was telling myself. But when I was with my friends it seemed to be the thought that was constantly going through their heads. I thought I could see them looking at me and just having no idea what to do, and not understanding why I wasn't cheering up. Why wasn't I snapping out of it yet?

 

The reason why I think it is a dangerous phrase (wherever it is coming from) is that it puts a lot of pressure on the person who has depression. Usually a person who will already be putting themselves under a lot of pressure.

 

I want to try and explain this one as well as I can, so forgive me if I take a little while to make my point.

 

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to someone about the relative merits of cycling or taking the tube to work. They were of the view that if you turned up late to work because something had gone wrong with the tube then you would get more sympathy than if you turned up late because your bicycle had got a puncture. I said that I thought this was a ridiculous notion. Obviously the cyclist had an equally good reason for being late and should be treated the same. But the person I was talking to was firmly of the view that the cyclist wouldn't get as much sympathy. Even though the puncture would have probably happen when it is raining (there is a reason for this - go read cycling blogs if you want to know!) and so the cyclist would most likely get to work wet through, cold and grumpy, and arguably deserving of more sympathy.

 

I personally don't think I would treat the cyclist any differently. But I can see that people might. I have been thinking about why they might and have come up with the phrase 'relative sympathy'. By 'relative sympathy' I mean that people have different levels of sympathy for someone depending on whether they themselves have ever been in the same position or can see that there is an issue.

 

A vast number of people in London get the tube. They know that it can, at times, be entirely unpredictable and frankly a pain in the arse. If you have been trapped in a train on the northern line while the service is 'regulated' then you know what I mean. It is accepted by all that probably at some point someone will be late for work because there was a problem with the tube. This is understood. You've probably been in the same position. You can therefore sympathise.

 

As for the cyclist: well despite Bradley Wiggins and co. being fantastic over the past year and the general appreciation for cycling that seems to have ensued, not many people will ever have changed a punctured tyre. Fewer people will have sorted out a puncture on the way to work. Added to that a puncture is quite often not immediately obvious to anyone aside from the person riding the bike. There simply isn't the shared knowledge base and so the sympathy may not be as forthcoming.

 

Now I'm not saying that people wouldn't be sympathetic. Some would. Some people are very empathetic. I'm just saying that some people aren't, or at least there are limits to their empathy, those limits being their own experience.

 

So coming back to depression. People are generally better at understanding things that they can see or that they have experienced. In terms of relative sympathy a broken leg will therefore get a fair amount. It's obvious. There are crutches, and wincing as the person tries to walk on it, and sometimes a cast so that people can draw doodles. And I'm not saying that people who have broken something don't deserve sympathy: obviously they do. I'm just saying that that sympathy will be pretty forthcoming. Also people will understand that that person with the broken leg is incapacitated. No one would turn round to someone with a broken leg and demand that they run the 100m. Or at least if they did they would probably receive a torrent of abuse from other people! And no one would repeatedly asked the person with their leg in a cast why they aren't running the 100m. It's obvious why not!

 

Then you have depression. You see depression is a real illness. As real as a broken leg. However, there are two difficulties: (i) not everyone has experience of it themselves and (ii) it isn't obvious unless you tell people about it. And so (from what I have seen) the relative sympathy is significantly less. A lot of the sympathy I have received has been since I have actually told people that I am ill and explained in very simple terms what is going on. I have effectively given myself a plaster cast (metaphorically) so that it is obvious. Thankfully people aren't doodling on me! But they know that I'm unwell, and they know that sometimes I will just be uncontrollably sad for no apparent reason. So I've 'upped' my relative sympathy.

 

But the fact that other people have not experienced it still means that there is a slight 'sympathy gap' at times. (I'm not complaining about this, it is simply the truth.) Even having been very open with people I am still being told 'to be strong' and 'not to be silly'.

 

Which leads me to my hated phrase 'snap out of it'. When I have had down days and felt miserable for no reason whatsoever I can't 'snap out of it'. It is as difficult as running an 100m race with a broken leg. I can see that I could do it. It's not impossible. I could just get on with things, but doing that will be painful and difficult.

 

Having had ten years where my depression was not obvious, I have got used to feeling like I should just 'buck up' and 'snap out of it'. I have got used to days where I am lying on my floor in floods of tears completely inconsolable, or being awake in the middle of the night crying for no reason whatsoever. Just feeling awful. The times when I have been alone I have felt like I needed to 'snap out of it' - there is no reason to be like that, so why am I? The times when people have been with me they have (on occasion) been kind and cared for me, but I have seen the alarm and confusion in their eyes: 'what's wrong? why isn't she snapping out of this?'

 

And the answer is deceptively simple. You can't snap out of depression. You can work your way out and understand yourself more and slowly get better, like a leg bone re-knitting over time, but you can't force it. Sometimes you have to just let the tears and pain happen.

 

Relative sympathy works on two levels. On the one hand there is 'everyone else'. As I've said before some people can be empathetic and understanding even though they have never experienced something. I hope by writing these notes I can let people understand a little more of what it is like to have this illness. And maybe that will up the relative sympathy for people with depression to at least the level of the cyclist with the punctured tyre, and hopefully get as far as the broken leg.

 

But the other level is the dangerous level. Not having enough relative sympathy with yourself when you are the one with the depression. Having a go at yourself all the time for feeling down. Simply put: you can't help it. You are not doing anything wrong. You are poorly, and affected as much as you would be if you had flu or a broken leg. And sometimes that is a hard thing to acknowledge.

 

I don't want to give anyone advice for how to deal with being depressed. I don't really feel like I have the qualifications to do so. But I suppose what I do have is experience. For anyone who is constantly telling themselves to 'snap out of it' I would say this: up the relative sympathy that you are giving yourself a bit. You may find that actually it does make the whole thing a little less painful.

Why Yazz and the Plastic Population were wrong

One of my earliest memories is of sitting watching Top of the Pops and singing along to 'The Only Way is Up'. I don't know whether it is the tune that means I remember it, or whether it was the wonderfully upbeat lyrics, or maybe a combination of both.

 

Whatever it was I feel that I must, sadly, report that Yazz and her associates were wrong. The only way is not up. There is also down. Down definitely happens, and I have become rather more familiar with that than I would like. There is also weird switch to parallel universe type feeling. Then there is something happens that completely throws you and for a while you don't know your up from your down. And then there is something else happens and you shuffle to the left or right a bit and you don't really know whether you are down because of whatever that thing is, or because you are depressed.

 

As I am discovering, and probably am far too aware of, the human mind is an incredibly complicated thing. So too is the human body. Having days where you wake up and feel miserable is a pain but I am almost now at a point where I can go 'ok, I've woken up feeling rubbish, I'll be kind to myself, take things slower, and I know that this will pass'. What is a bit more confusing is the day when you wake up and feel rubbish, but then realise that there is more at play. Not only is your mood down, but also you have picked up the cold that everyone around you has had and the back of your throat has decided to resemble something not dissimilar to gravel.

 

Now at this point am I feeling crap because anyone would feel crap and I've got a cold? Or am I feeling crap because I'm having a depressed 'down day'? Or is it a mixture of the two?

 

It's probably the latter I guess. And probably the same principles apply: be kind to myself, take it steady. But with the added delight of lemsip (bought in powder form so I can't take lots at once, and even I wouldn't start snorting the horrible stuff!).

 

The thing is that I had (very begrudgingly) accepted that getting better and dealing with depression would have its up days and its down days. 'Two steps forward, one step back' hasn't exactly been a mantra over the summer, but definitely something that I have got used to. Sometimes it has been 14 steps forward, then one back. It's ok because I know that I am making progress in an upwards direction.

 

What is now becoming an interesting thing to deal with is that the steps forward and steps back have been joined by a bit of a shove sideways. Which does lead to part of my mind wanting to scream out 'Oh for f**k's sake, really?!?'.

 

I suppose this is just the result of there being no perfect metaphor for depression, or for describing the feelings associated with depression. It does show the limitations of trying to explain. But for what it is worth I would re-title Yazz's song 'There are very many ways that things can go, but if they are generally speaking going in an upwards fashion the majority of the time then that is probably something to enjoy and be happy about.'

Two heads are better than one...

There is a wonderful saying: do as I say, not as I do.

I am going to own up now. Not everything that I write in this blog is solely as the result of my own insight. Quite a lot (well the vast majority) of it arises out of conversations. A very large number of conversations with a large number of people. Some of those people know what they are talking about, others don't! Some are perceptive. Some don't quite understand. Some speak from experience. Some really don't know what to say. Some are very kind to me. Others give me blunt answers that sometimes feel like a sledgehammer to the stomach. Some people I talk to a lot. Other people it can be a matter of minutes. And if it wasn't for them then I probably wouldn't have anything to write. Actually more accurately I would still have a lot to write but it most likely wouldn't make a huge amount of sense.

The truth of it is that talking to people matters. Especially if you are suffering from depression talking is incredibly important. And it is often also the very hardest thing to do. Which is why I say 'do as I say, not as I do'.

I started out this week with a very clear view of what I was going to do. I wasn't going to talk to anyone. I had had enough of opinions and views and suggestions and demands. I wasn't going to listen to anyone apart from me and I was going to close myself off. I was going to cope and be fine and strong and no one could stop me. I had decided that being me and feeling depressed was hard enough without wanting to be concerned with other people. All other people did was make me feel guilty. Being guilty makes me feel worse. So why would I want to add that on top of how crap I was feeling already? I would just be 'fine', keep myself to myself, and no one would notice.

Sometimes for an intelligent woman I can be a bit stupid!

You see in some ways this had been the week I was dreading. I go to therapy once a week and, while I am not going to go into details of what gets said there, it has progressed to dealing with 'real issues' rather than dealing with the 'obvious stuff'. So I wasn't exactly looking forward to it this week. I knew that things were about to get difficult.

After talking to the therapist for an hour I felt exhausted. I hid in work for a bit (to try and let my head settle) and then I went and saw friends and probably talked and cried more than I have in the past fortnight. A lot of talking and a lot of crying.

But that was what I desperately needed. Not to be trapped inside my head. To actually express all of the anger and pain and whatever else that had been bottled up for far too long and had been wearing me down so much.

And it's not just about expressing everything. It's also that you get a different perspective. You get reminded of things, either that have happened or that you've said before. You get positive things said about you. You get home truths. Your brain can start to sift and sort everything, and it truly becomes more manageable. You can hear the things coming out of your mouth that are maybe a bit nuts and silly. You can say the things that actually matter and hurt you more than anything. And somehow saying them stops them hurting you quite so much. Or you suddenly realise and face up to how hurt you have been.

Now I am in no way a perfect role model for this. (Having spent at least ten minutes of my tear sodden conversation the other night vowing that I was going to stop talking to people I really could be called a bit of a hypocrite.) I have to be reminded to try. And some days it really is harder than others. But it does work.

Sometimes I can't face talking to friends or family. I am not ashamed to admit that I do get in touch with the Samaritans when I get completely trapped and I'm at my worst. If anyone in the same boat reads this and feels that they cannot face talking to people they know then do consider giving the Samaritans a call (08457 90 90 90), or dropping them an e-mail (jo@samaritans.org). If it doesn't work for you fair enough, but give it a try if you can.

The past couple of days for me have involved a lot of talking. I would be lying if I said that all of that was easy. (I also need to actually buy some tissues or remember to keep a handkerchief with me at all times.) But I am now looking forward to a weekend where I feel a lot less trapped and miserable. So I know that it really is worth trying whenever I can.

Next time I forget if someone could remind me that would be great!

Admitting you've still got a problem

Last night I slept on a sofa. As a young professional woman who takes her job seriously, and is no longer a teenager/student, this is not my usual choice for a Thursday night's sleep! But I did choose (in fact requested!) the sofa* in preference to coming home and sleeping in my own perfectly comfy double bed.

The reason is simple. I couldn't face being by myself. Every night this week I have come home and quietly drunk by myself in order to 'chill out'. Not a healthy approach, and I could sense where it was headed. And so I wanted company. Just to be around people I trust. As I didn't trust myself to be by myself.

And that's the stark point of realisation. I'm still not well. Not yet. I'm better. But I've still got a long way to go. I guess looking at it sensibly when something has been 10-20 years in the making it is going to take more than 3 months to sort it out! But realising that is hard work.

I thought the most difficult thing part of all this was admitting to everyone in June/July this year that I had clinical depression and telling them all about it. And it was hard. Telling your closest friends and family that you have taken an overdose is not a walk in the park! But part of me thinks that the point I have reached now is actually harder.

The initial reaction when I told everyone in June/July was amazing. So many people were kind and supportive. They wanted to see me for tea or for dinner. They invited me over to their homes at the drop of a hat. They cooked for me. They came and watched crap TV with me. And I needed that. I was having days where getting out of bed was a challenge, and if I made it to the sofa I was winning. Or I was crying non-stop for the better part of a day. I simply couldn't function.

Now - 3 months on - I am back at work, I am doing my housework, I am getting up in the morning (although it still takes effort), I am going out. To anyone who doesn't know what happened I look fine. And so the suggestions of coffee/dinner have got less frequent. Because I appear, to all intents and purposes, to be ok. And I am coping.

And that is the difficult thing. I am back to where I was pre-June breakdown. I can maintain a 'normal' life like this. But I'm not alright. Each day I am fighting to keep myself 'normal'. To appear fine. To not let the awful thoughts in my head cloud what I am doing. Everything requires concentration and patience. I have to be strong every moment of every day. And that means that things still aren't right. I am just doing a very good job of making it appear that everything is fine. That I'm ok. That I'm back to 'normal'.

When I was talking to one of my best friend about how I am at the moment - and how effectively I am 'masking' things - he told me that I am basically lying to everyone. Unfortunately he is right. Pretending that I am fine and being 'strong' 100% of the time means that even those closest to me (apart from one or two) don't actually know how I am feeling. And if I'm being entirely straightforward I am also lying to myself. I am convincing myself that I am fine and can get through all this and do it by myself. But actually I'm not fine, and I can't cope alone.

The last time I had a mental health crisis was in 2009. Another overdose and severe depression. I had a series of CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) sessions which got me back to 'normal'. And once I was back to 'normal' I thought that that was enough. I was back to where I had been just before the overdose. Coping and appearing fine. Now clearly I wasn't fine as there was a lot still going on 'behind the scenes' in my head, and 3-4 years later I find myself in the same place: having taken an overdose, been diagnosed with depression, but then back to 'normal' within 3 months.

Although I suppose this time it is not the same place because this time I know that being back to 'normal' isn't good enough. And I am admitting that I still have further to go and I still need help.

And that's why I chose the sofa.

* For the record I am short, the sofa was long and therefore pretty comfy, and I am incredibly grateful to the two kind people who allowed me to sleep on it.

The other room

I have said that the most difficult thing for people who haven't had depression is that they can't understand what is going on in your head. So I'm going to try and explain it!

 

I am making no promises that this will make sense. I am also not suggesting that this is how everyone with depression feels or what they experience. I am simply writing from my own experience and what happens to me.

 

So today I'm going to write about the weirdest experience that I get. It isn't one of the 'down days' where I just feel upset about everything, or one of the 'can't get out of bed days'. It's the 'different world day'.

 

When I was younger (and admittedly still now!) I liked sci-fi programmes. One of my favourite plot lines for a TV episode would be where the characters went to a parallel universe that was almost identical to the 'actual' universe but had subtle differences. One of the characters would be evil rather than good, or there would have been 'an event' which had altered everything ever so slightly. The whole point would be that it wasn't massively different, just different enough to be interesting for a plot line.

 

And that's all well and good for fiction. But one of the experiences that I have with my depression is that that feels like reality. I feel like I have ended up in a parallel universe. As an example, I woke up the other morning and everything felt wrong. When I tried to describe it to some friends later I said it was like I had walked into a familiar room but all the furniture had been moved a fraction of an inch in different directions so that nothing felt right. Everything felt the same, but not quite the same, not quite right. I couldn't understand why I was by myself. I felt completely disorientated.

 

Now the strangest thing about feeling like that is that logically I knew I was in my bed, at home, no one should have been around, nothing had been moved, my plan for the day was exactly the same as when I had gone to sleep. But I felt lost and confused and as if everything had changed and I didn't fit in. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. And for me it is one of the most distressing feelings to have.

 

Apparently a common experience for people with depression is that they feel disconnected from the world in some way. So I anticipate that I am not alone in having these weird 'other room' episodes. Unfortunately knowing that it is a shared experience doesn't make it any less upsetting when it happens.

 

I've written before about the fact that there is not necessarily a 'solution' to these things. And I definitely do not subscribe to the 'there is answer' mentality. But I suppose for me I have found that when I have an 'other room' day talking to my friends can help to bring me back to 'reality'. And almost the most powerful medicine which makes it a little less bad is a proper hug from someone who cares about me. It's the simple things that can make you feel a little more grounded.