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Category: depression

Published on Leave a comment on “I am so depressed”

A phrase we have become accustomed to using over our lives. One we use when something has gone wrong for us. Nothing life changing, nothing actually too serious, but when it occurs it really throws a spanner in the works. Didn't get the concert tickets you wanted, the new game you wanted has sold out, your phone breaks, or you lose some money. All things that really do make you feel a slump in the moment. So when given the chance to express ourselves, we will generally use this phrase, or similar.

The strange thing is, when people truly are depressed, it is the last thing they will say. A person recognising they are dropping into a state of depression is more likely to make excuses, such as tired, un-bothered, or just not in the mood to do something. In the moment they have time to seek support and help, they just shut down and hide from the feeling.

The two kind of go hand in hand, with the first use of the word diminishing the seriousness of the word, and the person in the second example just doesn't want to be mixed in with the slightly over dramatic use of the word. Running the risk of being told "it will be ok" or "get over it"
Neither of which are of any help to someone struggling with their mind.

The over exaggerated use of the term "depressed" has just become fashionable now, just like "I'm so OCD" (no you are just tidy), or comparing your over excited, hyperactive child to someone with  ADHD. These are all serious matters, but the fashionable use of these phrases has really taken the focus away from the true sufferers. Now the services who deal with all these issues are at breaking point, with people being assessed for conditions, and some entering treatment, while in reality there are other issues which are presenting as the real thing.

I know that sounds a bit far fetched, but from experience with depression, just seeing the mix of people who turn up and describe their symptoms, it is clear that some are better suited to community and social projects, which allow them to frequently interact with others, rather than going through a long process of learning to deal with issues they clearly don't have. And I say that not selfishly or blinkered, but with the confidence that when someone cannot relate to a single issue anyone else has, but wants to complain about the health service for half an hour, there is more to it that depression.

This isn't to say that these people don't deserve treatment or attention, of course they do. They are clearly facing issues of their own, which a GP has put down as depression, but need to be assessed in a way that doesn't just say "depression Y/N". The same applies to others with behavioural issues. Easier to put them down as an attention disorder, than challenge the parent on their parenting skills. Not every naughty child has a condition, but sometimes it is easier to just say "I can't control him", than taking the time out to see if it is something you are doing which is promoting this behaviour.

Like I say, I am not for one second sneering at the actual conditions. But on all fronts, there is a fine line (actually a mighty chasm) between feeling down, and being depressed, or misbehaving and ADHD. One remains in your control to a large degree, the other you are just a passenger along for the ride, with no control over the direction it all goes in.

Now I am no expert in child behavior, so I will not say another word on the matter, other than to tip my hat to the parents who have kids with any of these conditions, and don't make excuses. Digging your heels in and getting on with what life has presented you with is an incredibly brave and strong thing to do. In fact I would go so far as to say that you are some of the best parents out there, and side by side with a spoiled brat, your children probably shines brighter than most. And no reason whatsoever that they should not.

As for depression, I can certainly speak on this matter with good authority, at least from my own experiences. I would not for one second wish to even start to belittle someone who has been on a different journey to me, and suffers in other ways. There are many forms of depression, it comes in many shapes and sizes. My experience is just one. But one I want to share as much as possible to ensure that it stops being such a forbidden topic, the social shame is lifted from over the condition, and people suffering can lift their heads and say " I am depressed, and proud to be dealing with it"

Depression is in short the suppression of our ability to engage, think rationally,  interact, and form trust bonds with others. There are many other symptoms, but these four cover a lot of those in an umbrella kind of way. So having our whole existence suppressed, the last thing we need. Without existing, how do we recover. Hidden away in a dark room every spare moment of our lives. Managing to put on an brave face to do the things we need to do. Going to work looking like all is well, head down like we are busy. Daring to speak to no-one in case we give the game away.

Once outside of work, shunning social opportunities, avoiding going shopping in busy places where possible, running from people, decisions, pressure or anything we cannot control the outcome of. Or as it is described in Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), seeing things through a negative filter.  Assuming anything we choose to do will turn to crap, fearing the worst outcome of doing anything other than hiding ourselves away. Even worrying that our closest friends will reject us if we dare to tell them we are suffering from depression.

Nope, admission of depression is between you and the medical practitioners, and is top secret. Taking your medication in private, even hiding it at home from loved ones. Maybe even just throwing it away, or to the back of a drawer, as the stigma surrounding "anti depressants" is just all too much to be mixed up in. In truth, it is the people who DO actually sneer at people struggling with depression who have the issue. Being so judgmental, pointing the finger and mocking people who are brave enough to face their demons in public. Maybe it is those trying to mock, who actually suppress their own issues the best. Is it they who are most in need of support, trying to deflect their own issues onto someone standing tall at such a tough time?

I am not sure why in this day and age, with so many people having suffered a breakdown, or on going depression or anxiety, there is so much stigma attached to the conditions. Given how many well loved and highly acclaimed celebrities have come out openly, talking about their battles through their lives. Facing their demons, while putting on such a strong public face. Hiding it all away for the sake of their image, before saying enough is enough, and speaking out urging people to support those suffering. Even some of the most loved, taking their own lives, only for the world to realise what a terrifying and lonely world their idol lived with .

Quotes like "Despite being surrounded by people, I feel so alone" is a good example of what it can feel like to be in a state of depression. I know Robin Williams was apparently quoted as saying similar. Happiness and sanity is not found in popularity, wealth, or a lavish lifestyle. Being surrounded by so called friends does not make you emotionally rich. If anything it numbs the senses even more, and draws you away from the important things in life. By the time you realise how far you have strayed from the sanctity of your comfort zone, you are out there being preyed on by the wolves of the mind.

I consider myself very wealthy as far as the quality of my life goes. I have the material objects I desire, none of which make me happy, they just help cocoon me in a bubble I share with the richer things in my life. My dogs, my few true friends, my mental strength, and the belief in myself that I can make a positive impact on others lives, using the experiences in my own life. My circle of friends has changed a lot in the past few years. Realisation that knowing someone for a long time does NOT make them a good friend, just an old acquaintance. And now knowing that support and genuine friendships can come at any stage in life, and sometimes from the most unlikely places. Two true friends coming from an internet forum that drove me to the brink last time I was suffering with depression. Sleepers who sat an observed, and helped me back on my feet when the time was right. With no prompting, no pleading, just their own selfless actions. For this I thank them.

But this is the real problem, the support network.
Anyone who knows me, and if you read my blog, you will understand I am far from timid with the written word. I don't hold back, and I rarely paint a pretty picture when underneath life is bleak. If its dark, I say it as it is. Sometimes a strong point, other times a bit of a mood killer, but it's who I am.
After spending many years trying to please others, and meet their expectations, I decided to be me, and I stay true to that every day. Again, it is not always what people want to see, but the days of faking and pleasing are in the past, so please don't ask me to be someone I am not.

For others however, even those with outgoing personalities, dealing with the realisation that you are actually depressed is a tough one. Admitting to it is something huge, possibly only choosing to tell one or two people, and most of the time not your nearest and dearest. The truth be told, some of the outgoing personalities are just what I was doing. The brave face, the loud deflecting voice, desperate to save my dignity, and not let on I was falling apart inside. See that is what depression is all about. Losing control, but desperately fighting to maintain image.

To admit you are depressed, genuinely, is for some like admitting defeat or weakness. It's like backing out of a challenge of any level, before even trying. And even the most grounded person knows that is never a good feeling to do once, let alone over and over. Convinced you will fail, sure you cannot achieve what you need to, and being scared of facing the consequences, and how your peers will react.
Have you ever dreamt that you have left your house with no clothes on, or that you are running away from something, but seem to be running on the spot. The level of helplessness you wake with, the panic and fear of losing all control of your dignity and self control. Well that is how it can feel every minute of every day.
One of the biggest fears in my experience of depression was being judged. I think as a whole, when you breakdown all the different aspects of depression, a lot of them come down to the same thing, how other will perceive us.

Walking down a street, feeling anxious that everyone you make eye contact with is staring at you, and judging you. You look strange, messy hair, cheap clothes, and so on. The list is endless, but you will read far more into their glance than they could possibly have gathered and judged you on. A simple exchange of words with someone, over analysed until it was meant with such hatred and malice. Everything is dark and negative, nothing can possibly be positive for a second. This continues until staying indoors, or going shopping late at night, or in the smallest shop possible is the only way to go on. Now hidden away, safely separated from society.

As I have said though, the only people who would really look at you in such a way are most likely suppressing issues of their own, and just fighting back their own fears of others judging them.

So what does a depressed person need from you? If you think someone is depressed, what can you do to make things better for them. And by better I mean help them on the road to recovery, rather than a patronising "there there there" and a pat on the back, making it all better for them.
I have to say there is no single simple answer to such a question, with all cases presenting differently. You may have noticed a change in their behaviour, withdrawn from group events, or just being quiet for a long period of time. Trouble engaging as they usually would.
For me, I would say I benefited simply from knowing people were there when I was ready for them to play their part. Having already declared my depression made that easier, but I know that isn't every ones approach.
If it is not clear what the issue is, but you suspect things might not be great, don't barrel in full of questions and suggestions. Just tread gently, but be the friend they know and trust. There is no need to smother someone, just indirect reassurances that you are about if they fancy a drink or a chat some time, in their own time.

There is no right way, go with your instincts. You know the person you know as a friend, so be yourself, if your help is needed, your support wanted, I am sure the time will come when this is obvious, and it can all flow naturally from there. I kept a lot of my friends out of the loop when I was at my lowest. Partially where I didn't want to bother them, and partly because they were the wrong person for the job at the time. It's nothing personal, just how the mind can be at times. You wouldn't turn to an outgoing party animal to be there in silence while you grieve, or an introvert friend to support you in a confrontational situation, so accept it that there is a tool for every job.

The biggest question for me in all this, from a sufferers perspective is why so many people live in a constant state of depression, and either refuse to act on it, or fail to identify their state of mind.
I guess there are logical answers to both, but for me I don't want to see others suffer in silence. Even those who seek help, get meds and go to counselling, will avoid telling friends for some reason. Again speaking from experience of others who have admitted after a long time they too fought with depression.
Identifying you are struggling with depression or anxiety is understandable. It is so easy to assume "everyone feels this way", but the reality is, they're not. It is not normal to dread getting up and facing the world day after day. Holding your tongue at home or at work, just to avoid the confrontation, and instead living in a suppressed state is not normal, contrary to belief. Fear of being judged by people when you are out in public, refusing to make eye contact or even waiting for the automated paying in machine in a bank while 3 cashiers are free just to avoid speaking to someone (like I did) is NOT normal.

Sometimes overcoming these issues can be as simple as taking a look from afar and making changes in the way you look at life, and accept treatment from your peers. Other times some form of help is needed. From counselling to chatting to friends and letting it all go. To entering the system so to speak, and going on record with your GP to seek help. None of these actions in any way make you weak or a failure. A little vulnerable yes, but for the right reasons. Sometimes being laid bare is an enlightening and empowering experience. Throwing caution to the wind, and only caring about yourself for once. Taking the steps to make life better, and trusting others to help you achieve that.

I am determined to keep talking about depression. Hopefully slowly but surely helping as many people as I can realise that being depressed is nothing to be ashamed of. It should not be hidden, and the stigma attached to the condition needs to go away. Over the past few years there are more and more campaigns to raise awareness of depression and mental health. Not a minute too soon I say, in fact maybe a decade too late. But the movement has started. I applaud those spearheading the campaigns, and praise anyone willing to share their stories of how desperate they have felt at times. There is no demographic description for someone who will become depressed. Rich, poor, outgoing, introvert, it takes all types. Even famous people, yup, that's right, even the rich and famous battle with mental health.

It's not a life choice, it is not something we bring upon ourselves. Mental heath issues affect who they want, how they want, and when they want. There is no choice in the matter whatsoever. The only choices we have are how we will cope with an issue if and when it strikes. Standing tall, not hiding, and reaching out are some of the best things you can do. However, when you are able to do that is all a matter of time. The second you realise, or a month after starting medication, that bit is all down to you.

I have rambled on for long enough now, but want to close by saying this.
Mental health is a serious issue in the UK, and one reaching epidemic proportions in some regions. Awareness is poor, understanding is hit and miss. Acceptance of the conditions is growing, and this is a positive step for the sufferers. However treatment varies, funding is seemingly inadequate, and the focus from the top down seems to be somewhat sporadic. The whole matter needs serious reappraisal, and a proper plan needs to be drawn up to deal with the rising number of cases. Not by sidelining people, and leaving them waiting months and months to receive some help, in the hope that they will just get better. And certainly not discharging people for missing a couple of sessions of a course, making it seem that they have successfully recovered. This is what I was told after missing one session due to heightened anxiety one day. Miss another, be discharged. Not dismissed, but discharged as OK.

Initial assessments need to be timely and thorough. Actual issues need to be properly identified, and the correct course of treatment should be made available in a reasonable time frame. Once someone is diagnosed as depressed, the clock is well and truly ticking, so time is of the essence. I don't expect things to change and improve over night, I am realistic. However I also appreciate the importance of the right help at the right time, and understand the implications of drawing things out, and not receiving the help you need in time. I was lucky, my meds were helping and my core of friends were reaching out to keep me afloat. But if I had been alone, I don't know if I would have made it in the right state of mind to the CBT course. I may have been too far gone by that stage.

I really do hope that there is an improvement to the system over the next few years. Certainly from my perspective, knowing that depression is usually a reoccurring condition, and from both experience and education, each case being worse than the last, I really hope that by the next time I am hit with a bout of depression, the mental health system on the NHS is as prepared as my friends are to hold me up and get me back on my feet as soon as possible.

Please feel free to email me directly with any feedback on this entry, to chat, to discuss etc. No one should suffer alone, so please don't.

Published on Leave a comment on Mental Health and the NHS

Before I even get started I want to make something perfectly clear.. I am NOT having a dig at the NHS. I know plenty of people out there have their issues with the service, some quite rightly so, others just over expectational of what the service exist for, and what medical science is actually capable of.
Contrary to believe, not all lives can be saved, no all conditions resolved. Of course it is sad to lose a loved one, but blaming a service as mighty as the NHS is not always the right way to vent that feeling.
Mistakes have been made, lives lost for sure, and no that is not right. But on the grand scale, if we frown on the bad, then we should also celebrate the huge achievements of the NHS every day. But as usual, we are quick to complain, but slow to commend.

Right, now to what  I started writing this whole entry about. Not sure about its direction just yet, so lets see how it pans out. In short, I want to address the mental health service offered by the NHS. Obviously this is something I am quite familiar with, having been treated for depression and anxiety a number of times now, so I am not just grasping at straws here, and want to use some of my own experiences, and stories of others I know to try and put across a balanced opinion, so lets try this.

The first time I  suffered from a bout of depression was long before I was ever treated for depression. In the late 90's, losing touch with my daughter drove my to the brink. And thinking back about that now, reminds me very much of my most recent experience. Both dealt with by me with irrational amounts of physical activity, training twice a day 6 days a week at the gym. Good for the body, terrible for the mind.

Back then I was a lost soul, still in my 20's seeing my daughter torn away from me, and worst still, seeing my child move forwards in her life without her father, just like I had. Something I had vowed no child of mine would EVER go through. And there is was. One afternoon I found myself in casualty with a large gash on my hand, as a result of punching through a laminated screen in frustration. A scar I still carry today, and a reminder that physical reactions to feeling unstable mentally need to be limited and controlled. I didn't intend harm to myself, but ended up doing so. I never recognised what I was going through as being a mental health issue, so plugged on for the next year, finally slowly returning to my old self.

It would be another 10 years before I would see depression again, properly at least. As the condition of my mother worsened, and her need for a carer grew, I took on a new lifestyle. Combined with the recovery of a recent operation and a bad time at work, my mental condition dropped, and I soon realised I was in a very dark and desperate place, struggling to sleep, socialise, or even care about my own well being. On seeing a doctor I was prescribed Citalopram 20mh, soon rising to 40mg. Thankfully work provided some one to one counselling for me, and with the help of Peter my brilliant counsellor, I made a strong recovery, again, after about a year or so. Meds were reduced and phased out.

Move on another 5 years or so, and there we were again. A huge slump in mood drove me to possibly the deepest and most desperate point I have ever been in, long term. I have had huge lows, but never stayed this low. Seeing a new GP, I was back on Citalopram, and referred for counselling. This is where it really begun.

I was phone assessed by what felt like a very robotic and uncaring person, who decided my condition was mild and I should go to Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) For those not familiar with it, the only way I can summarise it is like this. You are taught to  identify points from early life which may have shaped your behaviour today, then to concentrate on what triggers your depression, and the cycles you go through which perpetuate the depression. Learning coping mechanisms, how to isolate each component, and on ways to avoid the spiral of depression. It sounds a bit hopeless and complex, but I must confess by the end I was understanding myself a lot better. In short, CBT isn't as bad as I first thought it was, but still don't believe it is for everyone.

As I was first introduced to the CBT service, I started to understand why some people were so frustrated with the NHS for their MH provisions, or at least the way they manage it. A few weeks after my somewhat uncaring phone assessment I received a letter to go to the Jenner Health centre for a one to one, with some vague information about this CBT thing. Having looked it up on the internet I was curious but not convinced.
On my arrival there I realised that not only was there no reception for the CBT dept (as noted in the letter) but there was barely a sign that I was even in the right place. Bad start for anxious people. My appointment was for about 12.00, but by about 12.30 I hadn't seen a single person on the floor or in the waiting room. Finally someone did come in, and was swiftly collected by a post natal class person. Now I am wondering if I am in the right place, anxiety levels rising.  Eventually someone came out to get me, apologising as we walked down the hallway. Little comfort for the way I was now feeling.

I was briefly asked about what brought me there that day, then pummelled with piles of papers about CBT. Being told that the things I was talking about were not of consequence, and that CBT only looks forwards. The past can't be changed. Tell that to someone traumatised by their past!
The following week, after finding peace with myself and realising this was the help I was getting and to go with it, I arrived at my appointment to be told I had been referred elsewhere, and was now to join a group therapy class. Anxious and depressed, great, lets go sit in a circle and talk about it. I was told this was NOT the case, but on arrival it was just like that. A circle of chairs and two counsellors.

At this point I was feeling hopeless. Speaking to the counsellors about how I felt, I was told nicely just to stick with it, but with no real foundation to it.

So I guess this is where my concerns first start. As humans we are capable of compassion and empathy, to a degree at least. But the line "I know how you feel" is used all too freely. If you have never been bound by the ropes of depression, or had your thoughts suppressed by the worry and voices in your head. If you have never just wanted to spend the next week in bed, and not wanted to see ANYONE face to face for weeks on end.... Then you certainly should not tell a depressed person "I know how you feel", you really don't.

I applaud anyone choosing a career in mental health. As far as the NHS goes it is hardly financially rewarding, and to some degree it isn't an easy role to fill either. It takes a strong mind to deal with such matters day in, day out. However I do sometimes wonder what the criteria really is for getting such a role, and how many sufferers of depression actually work in the service. Maybe it is counter productive to have sufferers working in the field, but from my perspective, I am in my element working with people suffering, as I feel I have more ability to understand what they mean when thy express how helpless they feel. Rather than replying with the "hmmm, hmmm, yes" I seemed to get a lot of the time.

So before I go on anymore, thank you to anyone who seriously takes on a role to help sufferers of mental health issues, not just depression and anxiety. You DO make a difference for sure. But I wonder would more funding, training, or better selection of staff, and a better understanding of the conditions make a bigger difference.

Do I think I could do better? Well that is a very good question indeed, and a fair one. I don't have any qualifications in anything, let alone psychology, I have no further education either. So academically I am useless. But is that what counts? Who can lead you through a forest at night the best, an expert map reader who has never been to this forest, or a local who lives there, but can't read or write? I think the answer is obvious. Sometimes qualifications and certificates are not the be all and end all. Sometimes its more about understanding and empathy to the situation.

Obviously there is some information required. Not every experience is the same, and not all people react the same way. Understanding the mechanism of the mind is pretty darn important too of course. So there is a balance to be found for sure. The right level of input from sufferers, the correct level of understanding of the situation from a psychological perspective, and carefully planned academic coursework and structured action plans. Question is, is this being achieved?

From my experience, possibly, in fact probably not. Counsellors arriving late to groups, not understanding the impact that has on the recovering mind. Mixed up piles of photocopied coursework sheets, sometimes not enough to go around. Depending too much on patient participation to get the course moving. Without solid contribution of stories from those attending, sessions sometimes stalled. In my instance I was happy to share deep and past experiences, but it was quite clear to me that many others were less comfortable (rightly so). Counsellors unable to directly answer questions on the subject matter at times, with others in the group having to fumble for answers til it was decided one of them was right.

It is not all negative of course, I came out the other end feeling better for it. My question is, who did what for me. Did I get back on my feet myself, did my sharing and helping others inspire me to fight back, or did CBT save the day? Honestly, I think it is a combination, but not a very balanced one. CBT put me in a room with people, something I was uncomfortable with, but willing to try. It also gave me the opportunity to tell my story. However the coursework was mainly thinks I have been through on my own free will. Identifying triggers, identifying drops in mood, coping mechanisms, understanding how society makes me feel.  So the actual learning side was lost on me.

That said, helping others in the group identify with their own demons, and give my own examples to help them better understand their own, that was something. By half way through I was looking forwards to each week, to see what impact I could have, and getting people smiling or sharing was a powerful drug for me.
This in turn enabled me to help myself. Both understand myself a bit more, give me a purpose and some self worth back. All in all the right combination was found, for me at least.

As the course went on, and people showed up from time to time, it became obvious that some people were back for the second or third time. That part was lost on me. Learning about yourself, understanding the functions of the mind, and the cruel tricks it plays is one thing. But re-learning over and over.... I don't get it. If you need help after completing the first course, surely you need a different approach. In this respect the MH system is a bit lost and misguided. I wonder what it feels like to be re-sent on a 12 week course just because you have become depressed again. While the lessons learned are powerful and enlightening, they simply cannot stop the body and mind from throwing your life into turmoil, it's just not that simple.

Now the elephant in the room. Medication!
Having grown up watching programs with mental health patience receiving mind numbing sedation drugs to keep their minds rested, I have long thought that all anti depressants are of the same nature, making you sleepy and non functional, and silencing the issues, rather than helping tackle them.
However it turns out they are not. They all do different things, some indeed are sedative style, but others help the body produce more of what is needed to balance your moods. Apart from some strange side effects during early days, life after that, once on the right dose becomes pretty darn normal. Apart from remembering to take a tablet each day, you are just you again, certainly with Citalopram.

I know quite a few others who feel exactly the same way about the meds.
Being serious for a second, look at it this way. In most cases you can come off them when the depression and risk of it reoccurring has passed, reducing the dose, until none is needed. I have done that successfully myself after my last bout of depression 5 years ago.
Think of it this way, if you have something important to do which requires your full attention, and have a headache, you grab some ibuprofen, wait 45 mins, and you are fit to do the task at hand. There is no stigma attached to ibuprofen, so it is socially acceptable. With mental health, it is the same, but sadly its going to be 45 days or more rather than minutes. Once the levels in your body start to level out, and you are able to think straight again, you can help yourself understand what the issue is, and how best to overcome it. Sometimes without clearing the fog, you won't be able to see the path out of the forest.

So I don't see them as a negative thing at all. And I really wish society would see this too. Alcohol alters the mind, so does tobacco, but somehow they are both social and acceptable drugs to use. "Overdosing" on them is common place, and abuse of them is an epidemic. But society seems to say that is ok. And yet at the same time frowns on simple, controlled, monitored medication taken by those needing that little tweak of the mind. I don't get it, not for one second. But then I don't drink or smoke, so how would I. Just as those who frown on medication for mental health don't get it, but still judge.

The drug side of the mental health treatment on the NHS seems to be aplenty. Churning out prescriptions many times a day, no scheduled reviews once prescribed. The face to face part, which in some cases is critical however seems very hit and miss. I felt that the whole process took far too long for me to get facetime with anyone. However it seems that this waiting time varies radically from borough to borough, just in London alone, so nationally, I dread to think what the variations are.
One example. I was referred in November 2015, and finally got face time in Jan 2016. To me, that was an eternity, and waiting for it was both scary and painful. Thankfully by that time I had started to find my own circle of support from a great group of friends.

For someone else I have gotten to know, they were referred at the same time as me, and here we are in August, coming on for a year later, and they are STILL waiting. Same are, different borough council, so different MH team and ethics it would seem. This is fundamentally where it all starts to fall apart.
I have all too often heard the term "NHS postcode lottery" and again wondered what the hell people are on about. But it would seem this is one example of this phenomena.

I just don't get how there can be differences in urgency, treatment, assessment, and over all ethics towards mental health from postcode to postcode. Surely the NHS as a whole, all the trusts combined have agreed a strategy for treating mental health. Moral codes of conduct, tiers of urgency and treatment nationwide. I don't understand how one body, overseen by one government, can be so fragmented, first into trusts, then into boroughs, and each fragment having its own ideals on treatment for a condition.
It also leaves me wondering if the same is true for others branches of the NHS, other fields of medicine. Should I move house to get considered more important by another boroughs health team?

Thankfully for me, in South London, under Lewisham, I cannot complain about any of the medical attention I have received over the years. Ultimately it has all worked out for me, and I am here writing annoyingly long blogs like this. But I has me now wondering about how different things are, and what can be done to make a change to the whole system.
I have read news reports for years which say the mental health section of the NHS is desperately under-funded, and spiralling out of control. I have also read reports of how people have been let down by the service, resulting in vulnerable people committing suicide, or harming others.

Somewhere in amongst that all is the answer. The right direction to take.
So my questions.

Why are counsellors photocopying literature for a course with a fixed program of learning. Buying paper,making thousands of copies on a photocopier, making a mess of things, and fumbling by. Is it not easier to have these put into booklets and handed out by every borough, every trust. Ensuring that everyone is receiving the same education on their condition. No missing pages, no topics accidentally overlooked. Surely it is cheaper to put it out to tender once, and print them all and distribute throughout the UK. Procurement for such things should be centralised. One of the faults maybe of the NHS being so top heavy and fragmented?

How many people working in the field actually have first hand experience of depression and anxiety. Statistically it is likely that most people working with cancer in the NHS no someone who has experienced cancer, so empathy is far easier to give.
However while depression and anxiety is at epidemic levels now, firstly it is in the shadows. Not discussed, never admitted, and sometimes denied by those diagnosed. So getting people to speak about it, let alone help in the field is really tough, I get that. But I am still curious to know how many are in the field, helping others understand. After my CBT course was done, I was hungry to help others, and as it turns out when I look back over my life, I have been doing this for ages.
I was shocked by the number of my friends who have suffered or still do, and touched by the positivity I received about my honest and open blog entries about the matter. I really didn't realise how wide spread it was, nor how secret it was.

I really wish I had the know how to start digging for information and understanding how things could be done differently, not only from my experiences, but from others too. If I had the time, I would dig deeper, and push harder to get heard, but for now I will carry on doing what I feel is right, and keep reaching out to others who are fighting their demons. Struggling every day against the voices in their heads, and the lack of understanding from the world around them.

I have more to say on this matter, watch this space. But in the meantime, if there is any official organisation I can lend my mind to, just call 🙂

Published on Leave a comment on Depression vs laziness.

Laying in bed this morning, like a petulant child refusing to get up for school, I got thinking.
As I lay there, with the fan on, cool breeze, and just moving from one comfortable position to another, I thought back to a few months ago when my reasoning for laying in bed was quite different.

This led to a deeper thought on the matter, and quite frankly spoilt the moment, but was worth it.
A few months back, each morning I would wake, filled with doom and gloom. No good reason to get out of bed, and dreading what awaited me when I did. So for as long as I could, I would find excuses not to get up and start the day.
Raining, can't walk the dogs, being my favourite, however there were plenty more, from convincing myself I was too tired and needed more sleep, to deciding I ached in some way or form and should rest. The depressed mind is full of excuses!

Today however, and the last week or two have been different. I have instead basked in the "life if good" bed of laziness. Like a carefree bachelor with no plan for the day, I just wake and enjoy the moment. Rather than avoiding things, I schedule them in my mind, allowing just enough time to complete the required tasks of the day, whilst making the most of relaxing in bed.
Now I am not going to say that is an every day ideal, it really isn't. But I have to say it is nice to have the option, and to feel in control of it.

I am not scared to get up, nor of what lays in wait day to day. And that is a huge departure from the feelings of depression I fought for the first few months of this year, and previously.

So, with that in mind, I now understand the confusion and misinterpretation people have. When a depressed person says "I just can't get out of bed in the morning" and the person who has not experienced it says "Oh I know what you mean, I get like that". While I appreciate the attempt at empathy, there is a huge difference between being unwilling to get up and get the day started, feeling lazy and unmotivated, and the feeling of being trapped in your bed, covers tucked in, with no way out. Your mind refusing to let you out of the safety and numbness of your bed, to protect you from the day of dread and terror which awaits you.

It sounds far fetched I know, but the mind can play lots of tricks with you, and ultimately controls your actions.So when it says "we are NOT getting up today", you pretty much obey. When you think, I have nothing to do this morning, I am gonna have a lay in, its a choice.

In between these two stages, there is another I have been experiencing recently, and that is reluctantly staying in bed. Through illness or injury, I have spent a lot of time in bed in the past month too, resting my back and hips (most of the time), and fighting off a fever. Waking knowing your mind is happy for you to get out of bed, but this time it is your body, and having to make the reluctant choice to stay in bed, even though you have the mental capacity to be up doing things is quite a kick in the balls, especially when bouncing back from being trapped already.

I guess it is this stage which has spurned this entry more than anything. The line between both ends of the mental spectrum is indeed physical. Prohibiting activity, and leaving you to decide how much you care about resting and recovering. For once fighting the mental drive to get out of bed shows me that I have a lot of choice about my daily actions, and only when I am truly crushed by depression do I lose all control over my life.

That is a powerful message to me, and a reminder that without any visible signs, every drop of energy, drive and hope can be torn from you, and leave you as just an empty carcass of a person, just along for the ride.

I really do hope even just one person who knows these three stages reads this, just so I know I am not the only one who recognises them.
So, next time someone says they just can't get out of bed, imagine it as a physical injury, and give their feelings the same consideration you would if you saw them in a body cast, or with legs in plaster. The mind controls every movement we make, if it says no, the answer is simply NO. Even if you don't understand why.

Published on Leave a comment on My recovery from depression.

It has been a while since I sat down and put fingers to keyboard about my depression, so with yesterday marking the end of my 12 week CBT course, I thought it would be a good time to take a look back at where I was 5 months ago, and where I have reached in my recovery.

Along the way there have been many revelations, from who I now see at my support network, to how I perceive life in general and my interactions with people.

Back in Nov 2015 I started to see signs that I recognised as the start of depression. Low moods, withdrawing from interactions, trouble sleeping then staying in bed, avoiding doing things. All classic signs for me that something is not right, and an early warning that things are about to go badly wrong. Sadly by the time you realise what is happening, it is almost impossible to maintain control. You are along for the ride, however long it may take.

Once I was sure I was spiralling out of control, I reached out as quickly as possible to people I know and trust to try and give me the boost I needed, and the support I knew they would offer to try and see me through this bout of depression I knew was upon me.

It all started when I had a bit of a moment with a friend in a local cafe. Chatting to Sarah I realised all was clearly not well, and subsequently took a couple of hours off work to try and collect myself a bit. Telling my then manager how I was feeling, I felt that I was now safe if anything further were to happen.
The following week I was scheduled off work on annual leave, and as the week progressed, I realised things were just getting worse. The day I was meant to return to work I went to see my GP. At the time she was new to me, having never seen or spoken to Dr Paul, I was really anxious about who I was going to face, and even writing myself a script of how to explain what I was feeling and going through to this new person. To my surprise, Dr Paul turned out to be amazing, and set me up for a good recovery.

Anyway, the previous entries in the blog probably explain what I went through during my lowest points better than I can recall these days, but this is about what happened next, and where I am now.
I have put off writing this for a number of weeks as things have continued to change, so didn't want to get ahead of myself.

By the end of the CBT course, I felt truly on top of things, and was attending more for the rest of the group than myself. Or at least that is my perception of it. Reaching the stage where I felt I could help others was very rewarding, and gave me a lot of confidence back. So with hindsight I am really glad I stuck the course out. At the beginning I really didn't get it, and thought I was wasting my time being there, but as the course went on, and the group started to form a friendship, it all started to work.

Released back into the free world, I was not fully engaged in my fitness. Running, cycling, entering group events etc, and really enjoying myself. As confidence built, so did curiosity, as did self confidence, leading me to explore matter which were closer to my heart, literally. Sadly for one reason or another, I started to revert back to my submissive, "must please others"way of thinking , and I slipped.

A slip which has been rather expensive to me, and set me back some way. Backing away from what kept me occupied, allowing my brain its freedom to wander, really didn't work well for me at all, and still to this very moment I am paying the price. I guess I am not as "all new" as I thought I was, and old habits die hard! The one hiccup and break from fitness has continued far longer than planned, and I dearly need to get back into my stride, literally. I have a 5km event at the weekend, which I hope will kickstart me.

As the weeks have gone on, I have sunk back into deep thought, too much time in bed, and not enough activity. Telling myself each evening, early to bed, and out for a run in the morning, it is yet to happen. The closest I got the other day was going for a 46 mile ride, and that in itself was only inspired by making plans for the day ahead, and being proactive in case they didn't happen. (which they subsequently didn't)
It's a horrible feeling. Nowhere near depression, but a real downturn in my moods and energy, and I hate it!

That said, I know my symptoms are not THAT bad, as I proved at the weekend.
Saturday was a busy and interesting day, with a little bit of fun with the kids mixed in. So Sunday I thought I would probably take it easier. I had made lunch plans, but was mildly confident that something would come up and they would not happen. So I got up early, rode into town and met a friend for breakfast, then carried on riding til a good distance was done.
Lunch plans cancelled, I set out to the shops to buy lunch for one. Mid-way to the shops I received a DM on Twitter from a friend. All very strange. She said we had a mutual friend, and that they were both heading for to Wembley for a Bruce Springsteen concert, with a spare ticket, and would I care to join them. Seeing who my company would be, I didn't think twice. OK I did, but very quickly.

Rushed home, let the dogs out quickly and headed for the train.
Meeting them at Canada Water I was excited, in great like minded company with Gemma and Edel, off we went to see The Boss!
My greeting from Edel was very nice indeed, and a much needed huge hug. Everyone loves a hug, right! I know I do, and don't get anywhere near enough of them. Doggy cuddles don't count.

A great evening was had by all, and while we waited for the queues for the station to subside a little, we got into some very deep conversations. It was enlightening and relieving to realise how alike the three of us are, and right on each others doorsteps too. That knowledge alone has made me feel a lot better, so thank you Edel for mentioning me to Gemma, and getting the ball rolling. Strange how things work out isn't it.

While my mind was put to rest by this event, other areas of my mind are still all over the place. Falling into my famous old traps of getting involved and engrossed far too deeply with things. Rushing in eyes wide shut, then opening them once deep inside, and realising I'm out of my depth. A place I find myself right now, on a number of different planes. One day I will learn how to avoid such situations. But until then, I need to master getting my head out of the situations, without backing away from it entirely. That is what usually leads me to being a recluse. An existence I do not enjoy.

I am fed up of battling my mind. Reading too much into things, over thinking other things. But most of all I am pissed off with myself for this slip up from healthy eating and training. Yes, I am having a lot of physical discomfort recently, something I need to address, and maybe even see my GP about. But in the meantime, I need to start getting up earlier, not being afraid of quiet time (that my mind will run away with me) and just get on with being me.

So am I recovered?
Tough one really. I don't feel anywhere near as bad as I did. Maybe I am just over doing it, and getting run down? That's a possibility for sure. Maybe I will go with that, and just set myself some goals again. Get motivated, and get off my arse.

5km Olympic Park run at the weekend.
London to Brighton ride the weekend after
Pru 100 a few weeks later.

I have a lot to get ready for, as well as some other pending events too, to add to the list.

Surely the above listing is more than enough motivation? We shall see.

Thanks for reading as ever. I shall post something more inspiring soon, I hope.

Published on Leave a comment on Get up and gone!

Where did it go? My motivation to get up early has disappeared. Even after an early night like last night,  bed by 9pm, slept til 6am. That is already a long sleep for me. But to then lay in bed til 8.30am is just ridiculous!

In my head I'm not avoiding getting up,  it's just that the bed is so warm and comfortable, at least that is what I am telling myself to justify staying in there so long. The reality is slightly more sinister than that.

For the past week now my mood has bounced violently from highs to lows, changing in a flash with no obvious reason. The side effects of that are that by 8pm nightly my mind is shutting down, creating a lethargic feeling and demanding I go to bed asap. Hence not making it past 9.30pm most nights.

The getting up later and later has been around for the past week too. Occasionally I can fight through it and get out and moving straight away, but less and less as time goes on. The reason? Well my simple explanation is avoidance. If I don't get up,  the day doesn't start. If the day doesn't start then I have no fear about what it might hold.  No need to encounter people ordeal with anything. So while I feel like I am happy and having a lazy lay-in,  I am in fact happy because I am preventing anything happening. Classic sign of depression,  and one I am not happy about having to fight.

Once I am up I generally have a good amount of energy,  and manage to stay active throughout the day,  weather determines what I can do each day. Today for example it's raining a bit,  but the only outdoor activities I have planned are my C25K session,  and hopefully being able to walk the dogs. The rest I have planned is all indoors.

I am seeing my GP tomorrow,  I am also having a meeting with my new manager at home,  and then have therapy later in the day. Still not sure about therapy,  I will see how I go at the doctors in the morning, and decide from there.

It is also my daughters 21st birthday today. No stress there at all eh.

I really hope I can find a way to break this cycle of excessive sleep and bed time, but in a positive and non self destructive way. Not that things have gotten a lot better recently,  but I really don't want to drop any lower. For the first time yesterday I contemplated calling the emergency number I have for the mental health department. I have considered it before but only as a flash thought,  but this time I was running through in my mind what I would say, and what I hoped to hear back.
Then I remembered how hopeless they have made me feel before, and my lack of faith and belief on their ability, so just went back to feeling empty and hopeless again. As well as alone.

My small victory for the morning was banging my head. Sounds a bit weird I know,  but there is a victory there, trust me.
On banging my head (accidentally) the immediate thought was to blame my whole life for it,  feel I deserve it, and just put it down to who I am. But I managed to switch that to reality. I don't do it every day,  accidents happen,  and it was just unfortunate. Silly as it sounds, that is HUGE. It is so easy to take the blame for everything, and spiral down and down from one simple thing like that. I win that round.

So as I sit on the sofa now,  relaxed having not been on social media,  no conversations going on,  TV off,  and breakfast in my belly.  I am formulating a plan for today, and also for tomorrow morning. All seems quiet and peaceful,  but the day hasn't truly started yet.  Once I get my running gear on and head to the park, then the fun starts.

Running and exercise plans for today are to not be self destructive. Not to run or train til I am in pain. Do my C25K session, then either a single mile lap to see if I can  beat my PB,  or if my legs are in the game (especially after yesterdays 40 mile bike ride) throw in a 5k to pass time and see what my pace is like. We shall see.

Right,  I'm off to avoid the day for a bit longer.

Published on Leave a comment on Breaking point!

Today, honestly, I really feel I have reached it for me. Surrounded by so much which I am only capable of interpreting negatively. Impossible to see the light for the darkness, and struggling to have one simple thought without making associations which just tear me to pieces.

I have just sat down and stopped for the first time today after getting up at about 6.30. And as my bum hit the seat, I felt the pressure bearing down on me once again. The instant my brain has nothing else to think about, BOOM, everything crashes down.

Unable to stop thinking about recent events, tearing away at the last shreds of strength and self esteem, I have nothing left. I want to fight, I want to stand tall but I can't, I just can't. Instead I am left with flight, and running scared, from not only everything and everyone around me, but trying to escape myself too.

I felt similar to this late last week, and went for a head clearing walk. I got about a mile from home and felt my pace increasing. I was physically actually trying to run away. If the dogs were not at home I would more than likely just have gone to the middle of nowhere, found somewhere to stay and hidden. As I walked further I wanted to cry, to let it all go, cleanse myself of all of this, and start over.

As the realisation hit that this was not possible, I became angry, frustrated. Why am I trapped here?

Eventually after talking to a friend I turned and headed for home, and was lucky enough to have his company for the evening, which helped settle things. This time I don't even want that. All I can think of in my mind is to go out with the bike, exhaust myself, feel some physical discomfort, actually be responsible for something I am feeling, then come home and hide til it is time to sleep, and forget this day, and those in the past and future exist.

I have said before how hopeless I feel at times. This is total and utter. I can't think of any positives right now.

Oh and just to make things a little bit worse, my daughter turns 21 tomorrow. The last landmark birthday, the last big celebration and stride into full adulthood.... And I missed them ALL !

I'm gone!

Published on Leave a comment on What’s worth less than worthless?

Me apparently!.......................

Or at least that is how I feel right now.
Talking to a friend earlier today I was sure I was on top of things. I felt that as the afternoon turned into evening and night I would settle down. How wrong I was!

Coming from a massive high this morning, running my first 10km non stop outdoors, it was a hard high to beat. With the weather moving in fast this morning and afternoon, getting back out even just to walk the dogs was going to be a feat in itself. Needless to say it was late evening (now) before I could.

I guess it is only fair to say that I have kinda felt this drop coming for a couple of days now, with a series of events really giving my self esteem a proper battering. I won't go into detail as the intention of this entry is not to give anyone a hard time. Life has just gone on, but it is how my brain has interpreted certain aspects of the past days which has resulted in this low.

Walking a tightrope of emotions is a hard thing to do at the best of times, but in the social winds, there is always a gust waiting to take you off your feet, and throw you off balance. As it would seem has happened to me... AGAIN!

Trying to re-gain some self worth and dignity has been a hard slog recently, but I know it is what will eventually get me back on my feet. The running and cycling, as well as being a great distraction, has also given me some worth, and occasional senses of achievement. These go a long way to making me feel good about myself. Not to be mistaken for vanity of course. Those feel good photos shared to the world of social media as a bit of an ego boost, and very little more.

Realising people have been ashamed to be associated with you, hidden their connection with you, and pretended it's not like that is a real kick in the bollox, and can turn the road to recovery into a muddy trail which is impassable in a matter of minutes. Impossible to comprehend unless you are actually there, it is soul destroying and tears through your past like a tornado. What was ever real?

Breaking ties with a support network in the name of trying to go it alone is a strange and dangerous thing to do, but after an event like the one above, trust is really hard to give to anyone, and feeling secure only when isolated and hidden away comes naturally. Is it the wrong thing to do, probably yes.
So why do it? Because in isolation I am the only one who can affect my mood, my day and ultimately my recovery. Eliminating the possibility of misinterpretation leading to a mood swing which I then have someone to blame for. Reducing the chances of me ruining friendships which I value so much. Taking away the expectation on others to somehow magically make everything better, and then blaming them when it doesn't happen.

One thing which is becoming abundantly clear to me right now is that I am not right. After all this time trying to find a path through all this mental mayhem, so many false hopes have led not only to disappointment, but also to a more damaging depth of depression.

Right at this point I have to call this my absolute low of this bout of depression. And one which has really gotten the better of me. Getting out of this hole is going to be a battle for sure, but one I hope I can win.
Already I have realised that my self destructive behaviour, obsessive exercise when my body is saying no, has returned. After the run today, sensible me knows that I should rest and go easy on myself. So a 5 mile walk followed by walking the dogs for another 3.5 miles is probably not the best way of resting.
I already have plans for tomorrow to keep me busy and exhausted, but am sure if I am home early enough I will make an effort to do even more.

A couple of weeks ago I had grand designs for my up and coming 43rd birthday, having decided it was my first in over a decade as a single man, and convinced by others I should make a bit of an effort, my brain was ready to do just that. Hell, I was even making plans for Valentine's (which is also my birthday), but quite frankly, fuck it! I can do without over-thinking another thing, especially as pointless as those above, so the day will pass with no interest from me whatsoever, again!

I need to see my doctor again, to discuss what is next, how to get out of this spiral which is growing ever tighter and faster. The CBT approach is really not for me, and even with a firm understanding of how it is supposed to work, I can see no way it will make a dent in my emotions. With my past biting me in the arse firmly again, I fail to see how putting it behind me with no further consideration is even considered possible.

Something is wrong, seriously wrong, and there is a limit to how many distractions I can hope or expect friends to provide for me, to take my mind away from it all long enough to feel better in the medium term. Times with friends are amazing, and I am eternally grateful for those showing me compassion, and taking time out of their own lives to give me a much needed lift. But I need to be able to do this for myself at some point, and not feel anger or bad in any way towards my support network when I am low and there is nothing anyone can do for me at that given time.

I feel pathetic even writing that, needy and full of unfair expectation, and that just compounds the issues I am struggling with, and makes me feel even more worthless.

I foresee a tough and lonely road ahead of me, and one I am not keen to even take my first step on, but if I want to overcome this, and rise once again, I really need to.

Published on Leave a comment on I am the key to my recovery.
Since November it is fair to say I have had many moments and moods. Some which I would rather never experience again,  and others I wish I could hold onto and live over and over again.
From hope to utter hell,  my mind and the life around me have treated me to all kinds of delights and nightmares.
Finding what I think is stable ground,  only for it to all fall away from beneath me,  dropping me to the depth of depression I have never experienced before. Being forced to reach out in desperation to people to help me keep my head above water,  as recently as last week!
Each time I rise again from a drop in mood,  as I feel the strength building again to stand up against these  feelings and fight back,  my mind fools me,  pretending that something is the linchpin in the moment,  and that without it I will fall apart again.
The truth is,  the linchpin is in fact me. Of course I cease up at times,  and need friends to get me moving again.  But once I am able to,  I find myself standing strong and fighting hard to stay afloat for longer each time.
Leading myself into a false sense of hope based around something or someone I find and believe to be hugely beneficial to me and my recovery is in fact detrimental to my recovery. Almost like an addict fighting a habit of drugs and believing that alcohol is helping. It is an easy path to slip into.
One which makes me comfortable,  happy and distracts me from the things in life I am trying to avoid or be able to work with again. Instead there is an alternate reality which tempts me away from  the path of recovery,  and on to a path of temptation and fantasy.
Each time this happens,  the longer the self deceit lasts,  the further from the path I stray,  and the harder it becomes to get back on track.
Realising this is huge,  and a great help we of sound mind.  As is knowing the signs of a dip on mood,  or what your triggers for a mood swing are. However,  like over eating for example. Knowing it is bad for you is good,  knowing what you should be doing is good....  Actually sticking to it,  following what you know to be good for you is very hard at times. Especially when it's brain vs brain.
As the mind gets going,  the devil of depression on your shoulder is so good at convincing you that you should turn to an alternative,  believe in something false,  and throw yourself at it 100%. Sadly the other voice,  the one of reason and practicality is muted and has no say until it is all too late.
Opening your eyes,  waking from the fantasy which has fast become a nightmare,  the failure,  self loathing,  hatred and anger all comes rushing back. How stupid are you,  this is the 3rd time we have done this,  when will you learn,  why do you keep doing this to us. The voice of logic is once again present,  but instead of soothing and guiding you to recovery,  it bombards you with negativity. Trying to drum it into your thick head... STOP DOING THIS!
As many will tell you,  it's not the only voice to say things like this. People around you will do the same. Get over it,  just don't do it,  cheer up,  it will be ok. All words of amazing wisdom,  but which also display a complete lack of understanding. A friend recently very refreshingly said that he wouldn't offer any words of hope or wisdom as he knew they would not help.  And that is all others have to do. Nothing is better than  something daft,  believe me.
So with all this in mind, and my recent blog of Single Forever still being fresh. It seems solo is the way ahead in my life for a number of things and reasons. Not a bad or a sad thing. In fact being in control of my company is a good thing. Right now I have huge lows,  and an blessed with people I can turn to for either trivial distraction conversation,  or can just open up to.  Sounding things out to them has helped me see clearly at times,  and has led me to conclusions like this one. That recovery is my responsibility, and others around me have little impact on it.  So there is no point in trying to flog a dead horse.
I'm not closing down or shutting people out,  just taking the helm and steering this ship the way it needs to go. My posting on Facebook is generally pictures (inc Strava) or blog links like this one. And as a whole it is a happy way to be.  I try not to engage with people now,  have a lot of feeds turned off these days, and limited friends.
Yesterday I had a very clear realisation that the recovery here is not going to be quick or simple.  There are no shortcuts, no escape routes,  I just have to weather the storm,  and come out of it alone. My doctor warned me at the beginning of this episode that the second is usually worse and longer. Harder to treat, but a determined mind is able to rise up. Finally after 3 months of trying to prove her wrong, trying to fight the truth, I have accepted that I'm pretty much stuck for now.
I can write with ease when  my mind is clear. I can engage people in very small numbers (2 is a crowd!) I can have perfectly normal times during the day. Find pride and accomplishment in things I do, like running  and cycling for example. But I am also able to turn on myself in a flash,  tear down towers of achievement in seconds,  and turn into my own worst critic and enemy.  Worst part being,  it is all done with no explanation or warning. Hence my phrase "mood bombs"
My fight is to control these lows and moments of self loathing,  find peace in relaxation,  rather than  fearing silence. And to find some self respect which I can  hold on to on the journey back from the depths of depression.
I have seen lots of stories recently about men dealing with depression,  and how it is a hidden killer. Campaigns and appeals for men to rise up and seek the help they need. But at the same time I have also seen the help system from the inside, and still struggle to comprehend how the assessment process really works. Rejecting requests for counselling which I know works for me, and instead placing me on a group CBT course which I find detrimental to my state of mind.
I am seeing my other GP again thankfully,  another one who I trust and saw me through my last bout of depression years ago. It will be interesting to hear his take on the matter,  and see what he advises.
Thank you for reading this far.

Published on Leave a comment on Empty and lonely.

Often I try and catch a screengrab of my life and current mood, so to speak. To try and accurately reflect what it REALLY is at that moment in time. Depression is vague and varied to say the least, and its effects can change hourly. So putting your finger on a particular moment in time, and expressing how you feel is sometimes nigh on impossible.

Today I find myself caught in a simple loop, empty and alone. I want to scream out HELP ME!! at the top of my voice, reach out and grab hold of someone to I guess give me the attention and conversation I am craving. If this was a Facebook status it would be something as simple as the famous "FML", in the hope that the right person will read it in the right way, and reach out with a hand to lift me a little.

Trying to stave off an injury, I am less active than I would be usually, not impossible to get out and about, but anything I do alone will be excessive and harm my running for Friday. That is a blow I can't afford right now. The achievements there are one of the things keeping my morals head above water.

Starting conversations in my head, but getting no reply makes me realise that the solitude I sometimes seek, is not all it is cracked up to be. And the choices I have made regarding who I surround myself with, and how many, might have been a slight miscalculation as to how much contact and attention I need, especially right now.

Feb has never been a kind month to me, and as the years have gone by, quite frankly, as much as I try and deflect the feeling it gives me, it sucks. Cue the additional cyclone of destruction entering my head right now.

Confusion about how I feel, what my mind is trying to tell me, or the direction it is trying to pull me in. Shut the world out, or open the blinds and let a few bright rays of light through to warm me from within. Stop fighting and just give in to my mind, or refuse to be dragged to the depths that are calling.

Even my therapy group, surrounded by supposedly like-minded people, and therapists who "care", gives me anxiety for 2 days leading up to sessions. I think it is fair to say its not working very well for me.
The support I have had from some friends has been enormous, and far better than what is being offered on the NHS with CBT. But there comes a point where you feel you have exhausted your friends, and gone on for long enough. The thought of asking for their help causes anxiety. Even then, finding the right one to open up to and get everything off your chest is nigh on impossible.

I guess what I am saying here is quite simple. I know I am surrounded by wonderful friends, and I am eternally grateful for what you have done for me over the past months and years. But right now I am slipping badly, and feel I am in trouble, and I don't know who to tell, or what to say. I need someone, I need something, I have no idea what. I am a helpless captive in my own mind, too scared to ask for help, too proud to reach out. And far too conscious to bother anyone with what might seem so trivial.

Looking at the screen as I type, I am not getting across half the things in my mind, but am starting to realise how hopeless I feel right this very second.

I know it has been a long time since I shared a blog like this, but I felt it was the right thing to do. The irony of the whole thing is, if someone offers help, I am likely to play it down and brush it aside. If you have never felt this way, let me explain quickly.
You know something is wrong, you know what you need to do, you know how to do it..... But putting something into action where you enable yourself to do what you need to to recover and bounce back...... Seems just impossible.

Thanks for reading, and as usual, there is no physical danger implied in this blog, so please don't worry.
Just very trapped.

Published on Leave a comment on Passed from pillar to post.

It's no secret that I am "in the system" as such for therapy to try and deal with whatever it is that is eating away at me. Strangely as things have progressed, so have the feelings and symptoms of it all. Today I made a breakthrough all on my own, realising that anxiety is almost my coping mechanism for depression. As the cycle goes around from deep thinking and low moods, so the anxiety begins while I search for the reasons for the depression. Somehow I trap myself at depression almost subconsciously protecting myself from the lows of depression. Knowing I can still function on some level with anxiety, but very little function when depressed. This I know for a fact. But how I have come to this coping mechanism I have no idea.

Blocking the outside out, disengaging from people, and avoiding social situations of all kinds happens with both anxiety and depression for me, but when only anxious, I say "only", I can still manage to get to smaller shops, communicate with a small few people, and of course exercise. With the depression I know that my day consists of dark rooms and staying in bed, and withdrawing from society to the point where even housework and day to day responsibilities suffer.

Anyway, back to therapy, that's what this entry is meant to be about.
Quickly looking back over the timeline.
Mid Nov, GP referred me to IAPT, the therapy section of the local NHS.
Early Dec, I received a letter acknowledging my referral, followed by an hour long phone call to see what therapy I needed.
Mid Dec, I received notice of my first therapy appointment for early Jan
Early Jan, went to first session and later blogged about it. I had been sent for CBT, but didn't feel it was going to work for me, but agreed to stick at it.

Today, I had my second appointment with the therapist. Last week I was given a sheet to fill out for 7 days, every two hours. Logging my activity, mood, mood intensity, sense of achievement, contact level and enjoyment. And also a test sheet to score my anxiety and depression. On arrival at the appointment I handed them over only to be given the log back telling me it was for me. Errm I lived those days, so am pretty sure I know how I felt. Thanks for giving me something pointless to do!
The test score sheet was glanced at then put away.

At the opening of the session I was told that the therapist had spoken to her boss, who had agreed with her that I should probably be referred to a "depression group". Run by 3 people, and considered high intensity, they felt that this would be a better way for me to progress. Or I could stay at one to one therapy and carry on as I am. No pressure.... but choose NOW, you can't do both to see which is best, its one or the other. In reality the sales technique used felt quite bullish, so naturally I went with the easy option and accepted the group sessions.

By all accounts it is more a course than a group, with presentations and education on depression and self esteem, touching on anxiety. Or there was another group dealing with anxiety and stress. But tackling my two issues together seems impossible. In the therapists own words, having a depression and anxiety group would take forever to to get through. Well sorry for being awkward. We can help with one or the other, but not both, choose!
So the course lasts til April, 90 mins a week, in Lewisham. Active participation is not required so I am told. On describing the course to me, she explained it was 90 mins with a break and refreshments in the middle. And that during these breaks people can mingle and interact. My reaction was "oh god, strange people", to which I was told it was good for me to be "forced" into a social situation and to interact with people. Guess you didn't read the section on my test score where I rated interactions with people as stressful and upsetting then.

All that said and done, most of my worry is caused by the anxiety and the unknown, I could get there and feel fine, I know this. But I can't help but feel that so far this whole therapy effort has been a farce, so am really not encouraged to hold out much hope for the next stage.  With having an hour long phone assessment, then my first appointment being an assessment and introduction to CBT. Only for my second appointment to scrap everything that has happened so far, be given a huge pile of hand outs to read and be told, start with someone new again on a different road next week, really undermines my faith in trying any of this. I know these are tried and tested methods, but can't help feel ignored when I have said over and over that conventional counselling has worked for me before. Encouraging interaction, dealing with my past, and digging deep to find the root of this feeling. But hey, what do I know, I'm only the one trapped in my own head.

The outcome of todays session was about as negative as it can get really. I came home, tried to walk the dogs, managed Tuvaaq, got to the top of the road with Aana and turned back giving up. Great, too fed up to even walk! Coming back home with Aana, I ran a bath, had a quick soak, realised I was dropping off, so got out, dried off and went to bed for a couple of hours.
I would have to check back in my mood diary to see the last time I felt so low that I just completely shut down. But it has been a while. So to come from a help session and feel SO damn low, well that just sucks!

Since getting back up I have been for a walk on my own listening to music. I know I am not physically exhausted as my legs had plenty in them, but the motivation to keep moving, even with music in my ears was a struggle to say the least. So I am left feeling alone, withdrawn and misunderstood. Thrown from pillar to post as they make some kind of effort to help me. If I were to see my GP any time soon my feed back would be poor. If I could afford to go private with counselling, I would in a heartbeat.

Right, here is hoping the mood passes by tomorrow, and see if I can get back in the saddle, metaphorically speaking, and depending on the weather, maybe in the actual bike saddle.

Oh one other thing. Last week I expressed to the therapist how much exercise and walking I was doing, telling her distances and durations. Today she mentioned this, and I said yesterday I walked 15 miles and rode 25. She cocked her head and looked and me and said "in one day?" I said yes, I walk that most days. Glad she were listening last time!