The honest truth

It is difficult to describe how much someone dying as a result of suicide can change your life.

In some ways the pain that I have been feeling for the past 20 months has been the thing that stops me from getting to the point where I want to hurt myself. I always thought I would be 'doing people a favour'. I now know that nothing could be further from the truth. The pain and grief I have been feeling is overwhelming; the guilt is hard to control, the anger becomes overwhelming, and the sadness...well I hope it will become less painful over time.

Every time I feel that I have regained my balance I will be reminded of something she said or did, or an event we both went to. And those are just the obvious memories and reminders.

There is also the feeling of being betrayed. The thought that I had told her she could call me. I had said I would be there. So why didn't she ring me that weekend?

As someone who already had difficulties trusting people, that has been the most difficult part of all of this. And it is the part that has affected my life on many levels since it happened. It is the part that has affected my relationships (friends and romantic). It is the part that makes me terrified of letting new people close to me.

It's like the argument that will never get resolved. The answer I will never get. And - although I know it sounds odd - it makes me wary of everyone else. In the past someone doing something that I couldn't trust or subsequently found out was a lie had the worst outcome that it hurt me. I would cry for a few days. I would get angry. That would pass. In her case, not being told that she needed me. Her not texting me as I asked her to. Her not answering her phone. That led to her dying.

I know now that I get more anxious when I don't hear from friends. Afraid that they have been hit by a bus or had an accident. Afraid when they are not straightforward with me about what they do or don't need.

I know I need to let my friends (well those I have left) live their lives. I struggle to do that every day. But, at least at the moment, I don't trust them. I can't trust them - as much as I want to. Because there are things worse than being cheated on. There are things worse than being lied to. And I know how painful it is when someone lets you down in the most absolute way possible.

I know over time it will get better. I also know that I have taken all of this out on people - and not quite understood why I was getting as frustrated or angry as I was. Why people lying has become such a big issue for me. Maybe it always will be. But I am clinging onto the hope that things will get better.

Here I go again on my own...

Have we been here before? I think I have, but probably that is part of the story.

Once again I find myself having to take time off work (a month this time). Once again I find myself having to explain to a manager at work, and them not understanding mental health issues at all. Once again I find myself with a few friends around, but generally feeling alone.

Dealing with depression isn't easy. It sneaks up on you. In my case I manage my anxiety day-to-day. I go to my therapy sessions and I take my medication. My psychiatrist once compared it to having diabetes, or asthma, or another illness that you manage on a day-to-day basis. And we all know that on occasion something changing in environment or circumstances can cause a flare up, no matter how carefully you manage the underlying condition.

So I manage my anxiety. I do everything I can do to keep it on the right level. I have been fairly successfully doing two jobs this year, and so have been paying particular attention to saying 'no' and taking steps back and rest when I need to.

But the problem with anxiety is how easily it can slip into depression. And depression creeps.

There have been various things that have happened this year which have put additional strain on my mental health. Losing a very close friend because they had kept things from me. Losing friends in an associated social group, because they kept telling me additional information about how I'd been lied to, which I didn't want to know and simply increased my anxiety. Having friends take me for granted, and so having to push them away. Family members being ill. Close colleagues at work resigning. And work colleagues lying to me over a prolonged period. Finally, having time in A&E for abdominal pain and being told that it was 'nothing'. (Later note: it was something! And is thankfully now resolved)

All of it sapped my energy. All of it caused me to feel more exhausted, more down, more trapped.

And so anxiety became depression and I stopped enjoying life or feeling that anything was fun. My work started suffering. My relationships have been suffering. And if I'm honest, I've been feeling this way ever since the beginning of the year. And I've felt under additional pressure and strain ever since my friend committed suicide last year.

And it's become too much.

So once again I'm having to stop and take a step back. Once again I'm having to go through the painful, but also cathartic, process of telling everyone how I feel. Once again I'm having to build from the ground up. Once again I having to find strength from somewhere to keep going. Once again...

The other side of the fence

Three months ago one of my closest friends killed herself. She had been struggling with depression and anxiety, in a similar way to me, but she found she just couldn’t fight any more. She was the person I spoke to every day to check in on how we both were. I miss her very much and am still coming to terms with losing her. 

Since she died I have had many conversations with people about mental health. There have been people who had no idea how unwell she was, people who feel guilty, and people who want to know what they should have done to help.

I have learnt over three months that I can’t give anyone all the answers. Trust me, I’ve tried and it is impossible! That said I know a few things that can sometimes help.

If you’re reading this then you care about mental health. Maybe you know me and I’ve told you these things before. Maybe you’re a complete stranger, in which case “hello!” and I’m glad you’re reading this.

I want to try something. To prove that one person can do something, and to inspire anyone who is reading this. Tomorrow (1 July 2015) try one of these things. Just one. And see what happens:

-       Send a text just saying “Hi. How are you?” to someone you care about and who you think might be having a tough time. Don’t send it out of obligation. Send it because you thought of that person, and have chosen to take those 10 seconds to put that thought into action. They will appreciate that you thought of them.

-       Offer to make someone a cup of tea or coffee. If you’re at work and someone is stressed or looking down, and you are making tea yourself, then just offer. Even if they don’t want a drink they’ll appreciate the thought.

-       Listen to someone. If you think someone is struggling then take 15 minutes out of your week to talk to them. Have a coffee, have a drink, have a cigarette, give them a call. The magic is that you don’t have to say anything; just listen so they have a sounding board and can hear themselves and feel understood. You will be doing more than you could possibly imagine.

-       Offer to make someone dinner and watch crap TV with them. Or to go to the park and just sit and enjoy the sunshine. Sometimes people don’t want to talk, they just need a bit of company. We all need people in our lives.

This morning I got to a point where I thought “I just don’t care anymore. I can’t keep fighting. I can’t keep being the voice telling people what to do.” But the problem is that I do care – I care very much. I care about my friend deeply. I care that there are other people struggling. And I care that there are people who want to help but don’t know how.

So please, try one of the ideas above. And please share on facebook, tweet this, e-mail it, spread the word. If it means that tomorrow 10 lonely people receive a text and know that someone cares then that will be a wonderful thing.

Confession of a serial coper

All my life I have been someone who has 'coped with' things. It is both a blessing and a curse.

On the one hand it means that I can walk into Court within an hour of having a panic attack and still represent my client and do my job. I can sit outside the courtroom for an hour reassuring my witness, and making small talk with my solicitor and advising on law whenever a question pops into their heads. It also means that I am able to live by myself and maintain my independence. It means I can organise charity events. I can sit and compose myself and write a blog post even when I feel utterly awful and still make it sound coherent.

The curse of being a coper is that to the world I will appear fine. Until I'm really really not. I was talking to a friend about maybe having a scale system to describe how I feel, going from 0 = happy, healthy, and all ok to 10 = suicidal thoughts and complete and utter inability to cope with even the most basic task. I have discovered that I can run at 8 and still appear pretty much fine to the world, and still cope. I can even be at 9 and then a couple of hour's later appear fine. It is only when other people see me at 9 or 10 that they know something is wrong. And that is too far along the scale.

This is not anyone else's fault. It is impossible to read someone else's mind. The problem lies in my difficulty with asking for help, with being vulnerable with other people and opening up and saying how I feel. Because if I don't actually tell people how I feel then most of the time they would never ever know. And for a long time (until last June) nobody properly knew how bad things were.

So I am going to do my best to give a shout when I reach 7 (7 is an important number to me!) or even when I get to 5. So that people know that even if I look to all outwards appearances to be fine that actually I'm not. And I'm going to use the numbers. Because while my ability to cope is getting me through all of this, it's also stopping other people from knowing or being able to help. And I know I need other people, I know there are people who want to help me, and I know that it is cruel if I don't let them help me.

I'm also going to start trying a different sort of antidepressant. One that doesn't have the problematic side effects I've encountered before. So, with fingers, toes and eyes crossed, 9s and 10s might soon be a thing of the past.

Trying to explain

I hope that all of you who know me will forgive me for setting this out in a blog post. In an ideal world I would speak to you all about this individually.

I feel under more pressure than I can possibly cope with at the moment. Thankfully the therapy has meant that I have turned a corner and don't actively want to hurt myself anymore. But last night I was crying and wishing that I could have a heart attack to make everything stop.

I still have depression. Just because I haven't been writing doesn't mean it has gone away. It is going to take more than 9 months to deal with something that has been going on for a very long time and has affected me for my whole adult life.

I don't know how long it will take. And that scares me. I also have no idea what I am doing. And that scares me too.

No one provides a manual for how to cope with depression. Which makes it hard on the person who is suffering as well as the people who are trying to offer support. But what I am finding hardest of all at the moment is that I feel like I am having to support the people supporting me. I find it very difficult to speak openly about how I feel because of the hurt it causes to other people and how sad it can make them. I feel under pressure not to put anyone else through any more misery.

I also have people repeatedly asking what they should do, or what do I want them to do? Most of the time I simply don't know. I have people asking me if I'm going about this the right way. I have people getting cross with me when I can't think straight and do things the wrong way. I'm not sure if there even is a right or wrong way to do any of this. All I know is that whenever I make a mistake it feels like someone has a go at me. And I am trying my very best all the time, but I don't know what I am doing and so I am making mistakes. And then having to live with the consequences.

Most of this means that I don't want to involve other people. I don't want to upset other people. I don't want other people pointing out to me that I don't know what I am doing and criticising me every step of the way. It feels that because I am so capable usually everyone has a higher level of expectation when it comes to handling the depression. But this isn't like anything else. And so I feel under pressure.

It feels like everyone wants me to tell them how this is supposed to work. As if I am the person with all the answers. This time I don't have any answers. I don't know what I am doing. I don't know whether things I am doing help or hurt. And the pressure to organise everyone else, and support everyone else supporting me, and to ask for help, and to be told off when I get it wrong, and to deal with this in a way that makes sense to everyone. I can't take that pressure any more.

I am poorly. I know I need looking after. But I can't be the person who has the responsibility of looking after me.

I'm sorry to anyone who reads this who is sad, or upset, or angry, or any other of however many emotions people might feel when reading this. I promise you all I am doing the very best that I can.. I'm sorry that I can't do any better. And please remember that I am writing about how I feel - I am not criticising anyone else, just telling you how it feels to be me right now.

Lost

Imagine that you have been told that the main thoughts that have kept you going in life have in fact been harming you. That your wish to look after other people has meant that you put them first and neglected yourself and made yourself unhappy. Or that your focus on goals and achieving something with your life has actually made you a tyrant in your own head.

Imagine that you look back on your life and can only see a string of situations where you either hurt yourself or let yourself get hurt to appease other people and make sure they were happy. And knowing that actually dealing with things the way you used to hurt other people too.

Then imagine that you want to talk about it but that you don't have the language for it. You can only talk in terms of things going wrong or mistakes. And you are told that that won't do you any good either. That you are persecuting yourself. That your language shows that you aren't thinking about things in a way that will necessarily help you.

Imagine that you find yourself without the steers you used to rely on, and without even the language to ask for help in a way that won't hurt you.

Imagine being lost in your own head.

Simple question: if you were in that situation what would you do?

Write what you know

There are a series of strange things about dealing with depression. Mostly it is information that you can get from anywhere and can be warned about, but until you live it you don't necessarily fully appreciate it. Here is a sample:-

 

Weight loss

 

One of the big issues for me (and as I understand for at least some other people who suffer from depression) is losing weight. When you are already small enough that the NHS won't accept a blood donation from you because you are too light, losing more weight is not that fantastic! As far as I can tell it comes from two sources: not having an appetite (usually because of too much adrenaline in my case) and not being bothered to look after myself (because when I'm having an off day I can't see the value in looking after myself).

 

And weight loss has a big impact on other things. You feel more tired and have less energy. Also if I don't eat I don't sleep well (a realisation that resulted in me raiding biscuits at 1am this morning).

 

The problem is that while other people can repeatedly tell me to eat (and trust me they do!) it doesn't necessarily motivate me to eat. When you can't be bothered with yourself making the effort to look after yourself becomes ten times more difficult.

 

Therapy

 

A warning that everyone gave me at the outset of therapy was that it can make things worse. I am living proof of the fact that that can be the case. Having to talk about things that I have buried for years is hard; it brings difficult emotional experiences to the forefront of my mind and it is like I am living them again. Similarly discussing the way that negative pernicious thoughts have developed means having to face up to some of the darker sides of my character. Things about myself that I have never wanted to acknowledge. All of this has led to some vivid and highly disturbing nightmares, and some days spent simply not being able to concentrate or think straight.

 

The other thing that I have found is that in dismantling my character and thought processes I have lost a lot of the aspects of myself that I clinged onto to make me 'me'. Now that they are gone I feel a bit pointless. The classic ship without a rudder metaphor springs to mind.

 

None of this means I am going to stop the therapy. On the whole it is helping and I know that I am getting better over time. But it is not an easy process.

 

Talking to people - actually talking about how you are feeling

 

This is the tricky one. Talking to people is one thing. I could talk about depression until the cows (or should that be horses?!) come home. At this point I know all the facts about depression, I've read up on anxiety, I can tell you a lot about the practicalities of having a mental health problem, the NHS and the various options available.

 

Actually telling a friend how you really feel is more difficult.

 

I think this is something that everyone struggles with. I'm sure everyone has had a point in their life when they have felt, for all sorts of reasons, that they couldn't actually tell someone how they felt. Whether it's being afraid of being vulnerable, or being afraid of hurting someone else, or just being afraid of opening a can of worms and causing yourself a whole load of problems that you really can't be bothered to have to deal with.

 

With depression all of this can get heightened. But it is also when actually saying how you feel can make the difference between feeling alone and isolated, and feeling cared for and loved.

 

I hate telling my friends how bad I feel when I have a dark day. Telling someone I love that I see no point in my existence and would rather not be here is not a fun conversation. It is also a conversation that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable, and scared of being hurt either by not being taken seriously, or being told I'm just attention seeking and crying for help. And especially when you are quite a private person, or have been hurt in the past, trusting people enough to do it can feel like the hardest thing in the world.

 

 

I don't know how other people get through these things. I only know how I'm getting through it. I have taken a leap of faith in hoping that these things will help and that eventually I will feel almost entirely comfortable in my own skin. And when hope and blind faith are all you've got sometimes it can feel a little precarious!