Life with no Parole

The last 7 days have been tortuous. I’ve found myself locked in a mental prison and have found no way of escaping, despite banging on the bars until my hands were red raw. I don’t know how to overcome this pain, as it feels like this prison only offers up life with no parole as its sentence.

This isn’t related to not being in work at the moment due to redundancy, although admittedly that has taken away my support group. In fact the first week or so after finishing work I was absolutely fine. I had started a creative writing course, was going to some career workshops, and met a couple of friends for a catch up. Like the flicking of a switch it all turned on its head a week ago, and ever since I have been racked with guilt, hopelessness and feelings that the pain in my heart will never recede. The waves of anxiety and depression that sweep over me are like nausea, and while I try my best to distract my mind, this is only a temporary measure, and its not long before the thoughts have burrowed their way back in.

More than worrying about any pain I feel myself, I worry more that my illness isolates me from those people I care about, which is why I try so hard to garner and maintain friendships. Maybe too hard. I realise that being friends with someone with a mental illness is probably no fun, and my biggest fear is losing people because of it. Why would someone want to associate with someone who often cancels things last minute, who goes through low moods where they can barely communicate, and who constantly asks for reassurance. Why would someone want to stand by someone who can become obsessed and preoccupied by a few words uttered, reading into it all kinds of scenarios and meanings, with only the most disasterous ones being taken as the truth?

I’m directionless and bereft. I’m regretful of the past, and pessimistic of the future. I’m in a massive city and yet feel deeply alone. I feel jealous, yet ashamed, guilty, yet confused why, and wanting love, but incapable of grasping it.

This week is Mental Health Awareness week, and while attempting to combat this worldwide epidemic is a massive undertaking which is unlikely to be defeated in my lifetime, anyone can make a difference in the smallest way. If you know someone struggling, know that you can be make a difference, even if its just asking someone how they are. They will probably lie to you and say they are fine, but know that inside they are grateful to have been asked.

‘Cause I’d love to feel love but I can’t stand the rejection
I hide behind my jokes as a form of protection
I thought I was close but under further inspection
It seems I’ve been running in the wrong direction

The Wrong Direction – Passenger

Advertisements

Fragility of the Balance

The fragility of mental health is so finely balanced that it can take only a small thing to shift the balance and cause the scales to tilt one way or the other. It can take a feather to tip the scales downwards, but a 100 tonne weight is needed to pull them back up level again.

I’ve always tried to live my life as kind person, not just because that’s how I think we are supposed to act, but because that’s how I want to live my life. For me the greatest feeling is making someone laugh, or smile or just be happy. For all of the uncontrollable issues I have in my mind, I am able to control how I interact with others. I just wish I had control over my mind. I had a panic attack this afternoon, and am still going through it, and thought I would describe the feelings I’m experiencing, as it’s a lot harder to remember after the event.

  • A sudden feeling that my heart is going to beat out of my chest.
  • Feeling sick, nauseous and like my whole body is vibrating.
  • A sense of doom and thinking that I have messed things up permanently, and that there is no hope on the horizon.
  • A feeling of complete exhaustion and yet at the same time being completely on edge and alert.
  • Tightness of breath and a feeling as though someone is clamped around my chest, suffocating me like a boa constrictor.
  • Stomach cramps and a stabbing pain in the tummy.
  • A complete sense of loneliness, but also a need to isolate myself totally. This can happen in a heartbeat: one minute feeling ok, and the next like my guts are being wrenched out.
  • Social isolation and letting down others. I missed a gig tonight that I had been looking forward to for a while.
  • A wish to go back in time and undo past wrongs.

It’s impossible to fully decribe what it’s like in a few bullet points. When in the midst of an attack of anxiety or depression you honestly feel like you are never going to get out of it or be ok again. Being rationale you know that isn’t the case, but when in the moment rationality is not a skill you possess.

I’ve had a complex relationship with people through my life. On the one hand I have always been shy, lacking in confidence, and tending to lead a fairly solitary life. On the other hand people are everything, and those that I care about are what help me get through the difficult times. I’ve always found it challenging to make and maintain lasting bonds and friendships (even at nursery school I apparently stuck to myself, and didn’t want to interact). Therefore, those people that I do befriend, especially later in life, become so important to me. And I recognise the precariousness of those friendships because I realise how important they are. I have always been someone who shies away from conflict or argument, as I hate the thought of upsetting people. While it’s not pleasant if someone upsets me, at least the only person affected is myself. But the thought of upsetting someone else is crushing. I think my illness may sometimes make me blind to how I act or behave, and while it doesn’t even cross my mind that I may have done something wrong, or crossed a boundary or been insensitive, that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. If I have ever done that unwittingly to someone, it was not intentional, and would have caused me prolonged guilt and sadness when I thought this was the case. All I can say is sorry from the bottom of my heart. I’m not making an excuse, but it’s the part of my brain that I’m trying to fight that was responsible, not the part I am trying to save.

I find wisdom and meaning in music, and these words from Frank Turner pretty much sum up the difficulties of realities versus aspirations.

“But I don’t want to spend the whole of my life indoors
Laying low, waiting on the next storm
I don’t want to spend the whole of my life inside
I wanna step out, and face the sunshine”

A Fractured Mind

The last two or three weeks have been my worst of the year so far. I feel like I’m in a never-ending dream from which I want to wake up from, unable to live each day in the present, instead seeing everything as though through a frosted window. As usual there is no specific cause of the downward spiral, or at least none that I can recognise. Sometimes there may be a tiny unrelated thing that happens (something I see, something I think, or something someone says) that may subconsciously act as a catalyst, but often there isn’t even this straw to clutch at as a way of explaining what is going on. If consciously or subconsciously there is a cause of my mental state, then I think of it as a tiny stone that creates a small crack in the windscreen. That crack might start off small and insignificant, but it then highlights a weakness in the rest of the glass, and before you know it the entire windscreen is shattered. The stone is irrelevant, or often unrelated, and it merely precipitates the already weak glass in succumbing to destruction.

Why now has the depression and anxiety got hold of me again? I haven’t been off work sick at all for over 6 months, and therefore why does the inevitable always happen and I find myself getting dragged down again? I think firstly, it’s the time of year. Not the weather or the darkness, as I have always preferred this season over the long summer months. It’s more the Christmas build-up, along with my birthday, that I always seem to struggle with. The weeks leading up to Christmas are full of celebrations, parties, get together and so on. I find these extremely difficult, and they always leave me feeling down, isolated, and empty, as well as inciting heightened anxiety before, during and after. It’s not that I don’t want to enjoy this period (Christmas has always been my favourite time of year), but I think this stretch of time (which coincides with my birthday) provokes in me, again consciously or subconsciously, a reflection on another year passing, another 12 months where my illness hasn’t got any better, and where I haven’t succeeded in the personal life milestones that I want to achieve. This period can act as a trigger to self-rumination and contemplation on how I see myself when compared to others, and in turn how I predict they see me, which is no doubt hampered by the proliferation of social media.

It’s also a time of year where everyone seems to have fun, let loose and enjoy themselves. This only serves to highlight how I am unable to mirror these emotions and reactions, and how any party or celebratory event always leaves me feeling sad and empty afterwards. It’s not merely the anxiety of being in these large gatherings or events, it’s more the fact that I desperately want to be like everyone else and able to have a good time and enjoy myself, whereas in fact I feel like I’m standing outside a window, looking inwards at everybody else, always prevented from feeling part of it due to my mental make up. The alternative, which is often taken, is to lock myself away on my own, but this brings it’s own problems in the form of loneliness, isolation and regret. It’s a lose-lose situation.

Despite all of these possible reasons for this particular ‘episode’, it’s also a fair assumption to say that I’m down now just because I am. In many ways the illness doesn’t conform to particular time periods, or months of the year, it simply comes and goes as and when it feels like it. It’s not as though it only happens at this time every year. Maybe its just the fact that when it does happen the feelings are made all the worse by the knowledge that it’s supposed to be such an enjoyable time of the year, and the sense of missing out inevitably rears its ugly head. It’s the whole chicken and the egg argument. Does the depression cause the difficult time of year, or does the time of year cause the difficult period of depression.

As I sit writing this my heart is racing, as it always seems to be in the height of a depressive episode. It’s partly the anxiety, and partly the 3 coffees I’ve had to try to stay awake. I was close to ringing the Samaritans earlier, but just couldn’t face talking to a stranger, and having to explain to someone things that even I don’t understand, like why I’m feeling like this. It’s the sensation of being on my own (even when surrounded by people) that gets me the most, and the realisation, as another year of my life comes to a close, that the illness has made me unlovable, probably indefinitely. If only my windscreen was stronger, and the small stones were launched less frequently, then maybe the breaking and rebuilding of my mind wouldn’t have to happen so often.

Group Therapy

About 10 months ago I ended a 9 month course of 1-1 psychotherapy. Whilst it was useful to have a weekly meeting with my therapist where I could talk through any issues or struggles that I was going through, the course ended whilst I was still in a bad place, and therefore I didn’t have the chance to determine whether psychotherapy would ultimately prove a helpful tool for me. I fully appreciate that the NHS is oversubscribed, and that there are people on long waiting lists anticipating help, and so it’s only fair that they should have a similar opportunity as me to receive therapeutic support. However, I don’t believe it was conducive to improving my state of mind to cease the therapy when I did, as I lost the only outlet where I felt able to open up about almost anything (other than this blog of course). Continuing the therapy for another year may not have made any significant difference to my wellbeing, but it would have been desirable to persevere until I felt mentally ready to end the treatment. Within a few weeks of finishing the course I asked my doctor to re-refer me as I was still failing to cope with my mental health. It took about 10 months to get a review appointment, and whilst I have become accustomed to long periods of waiting, it doesn’t ever get any easier or less frustrating.

The psychotherapist I met with for a review recommended that I try group therapy as my next step, as this is something I have not attempted before, and he hypothesised that engaging with other people with mental health issues could prove rewarding, as well as potentially addressing some of the social difficulties that I find myself with. Group therapy has always been something I have steered clear of, and I have repeatedly pushed for 1-1 treatments. I have always reasoned that opening up about the most personal of inner thoughts and feelings to one person is hard enough, but to do so to 7 or 8 strangers is a prospect that causes my pulse to race at the mere thought. Of course my rational mind realises the advantages of striving towards this group undertaking, and how it is absolutely the right course of action to pursue. Nevertheless, even though the first session is still 4 days away, I’m already getting the familiar sickening feelings of unease creeping through by body, and find myself questioning whether it is worth putting myself through this extra anxiety. But of course it is, and that is the knowledge that will ultimately drive me to turn up to the first session on Thursday.

The first few weeks will inevitably be the most challenging, and I expect that after a month or so has gone by I will have fallen into a routine and feel slightly more comfortable. It’s potentially a 2 year course, and so I’m in it for the long haul. What has helped greatly is the support I’ve had from work once again, and being given permission to work from home on the days I’m at therapy ensures that I can fully focus on the sessions, and go into them with a clear mind. It’s surprising how tiring talking for 90 minutes can be, and how the mind can be in overdrive for hours afterwards, ruminating on what was said and how I feel the session went.

Despite my unavoidable negative mindset leading me to view therapy as a defeat and failure of myself and my life up to now, I must also keep in mind the fact that I have waited almost a year to be in this position and to have this opportunity, and consequently I need to try to discourage that unfavourable thought process. A trademark attribute of depression is a need to focus upon the defeats, and ignore the victories. Winning a race would not elicit the response ‘yes I won!’, but instead ‘thank God I didn’t lose’. I’m sure this therapy course will have lots of defeats, and days where I feel that I cannot face it, but I’ve got to believe that along the way there will be some victories as well. I have so much admiration for everyone who competed in the London Marathon today, and this includes all of the runners taking part on behalf of mental health charities. The achievements of human beings are remarkable, and I will try to take inspiration from their triumphs and endeavours going forward. It may be a cliché, and an overused soundbite, but there is so much truth in the old adage that “a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step”.

 

 

Anxiety: the thoughts, the feelings and the physical sensations

The particular void that I presently find myself in is persisting much longer than usual, and I’m not exactly sure of the reason for this. I’ve become accustomed to an acceptance that depression works to its own timetable, and I can never second guess or question its process. The ‘black dog’ does what it wants to, and no leash can ever contain its inevitable wanderings. “Take one day at a time” is the old mantra, but by following that logic I get stuck in a persistent cycle where each day blends into the next, and it’s as though I’ve taken on the role of a robot, where autopilot is a constant state of affairs. I am trying to drag myself free, but do not know how to.

I thought it may be helpful to myself, and to others, to list the thoughts, feelings and physical sensations that I experience. As difficult as it is to confine them to print, it’s the only way of facing them as opposed to ignoring or trying to forget them:

Thoughts

  • “I shouldn’t be feeling like this”
  • “I’m weak and not what a man should be”
  • I don’t want to be me any more”
  • “I’ve done something to upset someone. Should I say sorry even though I don’t know what I’ve done. If they don’t like me anymore then I am even more alone”
  • “I will always be alone. No one will love me.”
  • “I must be highly unattractive both inside and out. Why would anyone ever want to be with me?”
  • “I could have done things so differently, but now it’s too late”
  • “I will die before I experience happiness”
  • “I want people to ask me if I’m ok”
  • “I don’t want people to ask if I’m ok. I will only have to lie.”
  • “It’s too late for me to change”
  • “I want to stop feeling like this.”

Feelings

  • Frustration
  • Resentfulness
  • Deep sadness
  • Embarrassment
  • Heartache
  • Nervousness
  • Tension
  • Loneliness
  • Isolation
  • Abandonment
  • Hopelessness
  • Constant uncontrollable negative worries running through the mind
  • Combination of wanting others to reach out to me, but also to be invisible and go unnoticed

Physical

  • Heart pounding extremely fast, as though having a heart attack
  • Constant perspiration – leading to more self consciousness
  • Extreme fatigue
  • Feeling jumpy and constantly on edge
  • Stomach aches/cramps
  • Inability to relax/concentrate
  • OCD elements – constantly checking things…need constant reassurance
  • Habits, nervous subconscious ticks
  • Crying

These are merely the sensations that are in my mind at the moment, and are by no means an exhaustive list. I believe this demonstrates the 3 pillars that are at work (thoughts/feelings/physical sensations), and that all of them feed into each other, again highlighting the cyclical nature of anxiety and depression. Negative thoughts may trigger a unhelpful emotion, which in turn precipitates an unfavourable physical reaction. That physical reaction can then lead to more negative thoughts, which starts the cycle again.

I must emphasise that many of these thoughts and feelings are irrational, in the sense that I realise I shouldn’t be having them, or that they have no foundation in truth. But the part of the brain that can rationalise my thought processes is sadly overpowered by the part that is consumed with these uncontrollable irrational thoughts. Which is why it’s so difficult to have people say “you’re worrying about things that don’t matter”. Unfortunately that is not my choice, whether I like it or not. An oft unmentioned part of the illness is an OCD like tendency to constantly check things over and over again, whether it be a message, or the state of my appearance, or whether the heating has been turned off. I have to keep rechecking them in order to quiet the roaring animal inside of me that is forcing these negative thoughts into my brain.

The one time of the day I am temporarily in a semi-peaceful state is on the train to work in the morning, when I plug in my music, close my eyes and imagine I’m somewhere else, and someone else. My nervous energy prevents me from concentrating on reading, and so I try to relax my mind by switching my visual senses off, and focusing on the aural. The music and the gentle movement of the train almost sends me to sleep, but the arrival at the station soon brings me back to stark reality. This is not going to help me climb out of the pit, but at least provides a temporary respite where I can imagine that all is well, and that I am a different person in a different place. As Lewis Caroll said in Alice in Wonderland, “Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality”.

Note

In light on the awful attacks of yesterday, my struggles are incomparable to the friends and families who lost loved ones, and those that are severely injured. In my writings I can only talk about my own feelings, and it is never intended to be compared to other people who are suffering much worse than I am. I just wanted to make that clear.

The Cycle of Thoughts and Feelings

Thoughts and feelings are at the very heart of Depression. The simple fact is that the thoughts we have can influence the feelings we experience, and vice versa. It’s a viscous cycle, and the cyclical nature of the illness ensures that once you are in the cycle, it is very difficult to break free. Thoughts can often pop into your head from seemingly out of nowhere, and of their own volition. Frequently however, these introspections are provoked by associations arising from what we see or hear around us. Photos, friends, people in the street, a piece of music, or a particular building can all conjure up thoughts, and consequently feelings, which are both unwanted and damaging. This can happen to all of us, although I would suggest that those with a depressive disorder will experience them in a far greater frequency.

Memories can be very significant stimuli in depression, and can be triggered by a wide variety of occurrences. For example, the other day I walked past a previous flat I had lived in, for the first time in about 3 years. This induced painful memories of the difficulties I was going through when I resided there, and the dark place that I found myself in. For the brief time the building was in my eye line it reignited the anxiety I had all those years ago, and the effect this had upon me took some time to wear off. Just as they say a smell of cooking can take you back to your family kitchen when you were a kid, this visual reminder conjured up all kinds on unwanted sensations and anxieties. On another occasion, I walked past someone in the street who looked remarkably like a person from a few years ago who I had a bad experience with, and this generated the same feelings of anger, sadness and frustration that I had felt at the time. It acted as a kind of portal, which transported me back to 3 years ago and bestowed upon me the exact emotions I had experienced during that period.

It can work the other way too. A certain image or stimulus may conjure up memories of a happy event, and illicit a smile and feeling of warmth, as though you are living through that event once again. The problem stems from the fact that the effects of positive memories wear off extremely quickly, whereas the effects of negative ones can linger for many hours or even days.

When a particular issue or source of anxiety is at it’s height, I often focus upon those things that will justify and confirm my beliefs about it, rather than seeking out those truths that may offer a counter argument. For example, if I get self conscious or low about my appearance I will ‘notice’ people who in my mind are ‘more attractive’, ‘normal looking’, and consequently to my prejudiced perception ‘happy’. This will then feed my exiting beliefs and anxieties, and prolong the cycle of mental unrest. It becomes impossible to see the things that would offer a counter to these beliefs, as you cannot help becoming blind to them. Depression could be described as like a special pair of glasses that allow you to see the negative things, but blinds you to all of the positives.

It seems to me that a need for support from other people is inevitable, and paramount as a facilitation to help you try and overcome this. Not so much for reassurance, as that can have detrimental consequences and potentially lead to a heavy reliance on reassurance before you can even function at all (another cyclical process). But just having other people who are not wearing the ‘depression glasses’ can encourage you to open your eyes and see things for what they really are. My illness (among other factors) has prevented me from ever having a girlfriend, and that has always been a huge roadblock to getting to where I want to be, and consequently has promoted deep levels sadness and frustration, as well as an inevitable elevation of that part of my ‘desired life’ to a near mythic unobtainable feat. This is not merely because ‘you want what you don’t have’, but because of the knowledge that whilst it wouldn’t necessarily solve everything, it would mean that I would no longer have to do things alone, and would enable me to express my emotions in a positive way towards another person (love, happiness) rather than a negative one (anxiety, fear, stress, resentment). Plus it’s its just too damn appealing to be with someone who loves you for who you are, and for which you can reciprocate.

Obviously thoughts and feelings aren’t going to go away, and nor should they, as they are what makes us who we are. The goal however, is to be in a position where you are in control of your thoughts and feelings, rather than them being in control of you. It feels as though mine do not only control me, but in fact own me, and dictate every step of my life. If there is a way to take back this ownership, then that must be what I, and indeed everyone, should aspire to.

Swamped

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

Mad World – Michael Andrews & Gary Jules

—————-

How do you feel?

Lie: A little down to be honest, but I’ll be ok. Probably just the time of year.

Truth: I feel like my insides are tearing themselves to pieces. I feel like I’m standing on a stage facing a thousand people and my heart is going to burst right out of my chest. I feel like things aren’t, have never been, or never will be OK. I feel like I want to bawl my eyes out until there are no more tears left to shed. I feel like no one understands, none more so than myself. I feel like I am destined to die alone. I feel like I want to get into bed under the covers and never have to get out again. I feel like I want to throw the towel in. I feel like the light from the centre of the sun could not vanquish the darkness I feel inside.

It goes without saying that I’m not in a great place right now. I’ve been down this road enough times to know that eventually it will subside. But I’ve also been down this road enough times to know that it will happen again…and again. The resolve breaks with this knowledge. How can you expect to drag yourself out of a swamp, when you know that you will be back down in it’s muddy depths within a matter of weeks or months. It becomes too easy to give in and stop trying to pull yourself free.

Time has become a large focus. It’s a thought process of contradictions, on the one hand wanting the day to rush by and be over with, whilst on the other hand being scared witless at how fast the years are rolling by. Being 30 terrifies me, not because of the age itself, but because the milestone reminds me of how much of my life I have wasted, or rather my illness has wasted. I want to go back, and have another shot at things. I find myself not having experienced, or having dealt with certain things that I should have in my teens. I can’t help feeling out of place, and not belonging, and terrified of the past, present and future. On the one hand I want to run away and hide from the world, and on the other hand I want to shout from the rooftops ‘please like me’. I simply don’t know what to do. All I can do is get back up again in the morning and carry on. The Garden of Eden must be out there somewhere. I’m just too tangled up in the undergrowth to see it.