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It has been a few weeks now since I dropped my dose of Citalopram from 40mg to 30mg, with the blessing and guidance of the doctor that is. I have to say, it could have gone better!
That said, it hasn't been a disaster. A few strange feelings and dreams as my body lowered the amount of drug in my system, a few moments of being a little bit distant, but nothing unexpected.

The last few weeks have been a bit of a challenge in their own right, so it is unfair to base any of that in a drop of medication. Maybe a small wobble from dealing with things with a slightly less assisted mind, but other than that, I have coped well. I think anyway, you would have to ask Ann if she has seen any other changes, but I don't think there have been.

In the meantime, I have been speaking with a couple of friends who are going through the mill a bit right now, and have recently started following another blogger who is just starting out on their journey with dealing with their feelings, and the highs and lows life throws at us.

Distraction is a good tool always, so needless to say I have been cycling a lot too. No escapism this time, but more exercise to keep the goodness flowing through my body, and ensure I am well exercised, and ready for a good nights sleep. That said, looking at me and my data, it would be hard to believe that I am achieving either right now.

Weight is hanging on for dear life, after I failed to launch into a new round of fitness. With injuries to my foot and knee, I sucked it up and accepted that I need to take things a bit easier, certainly until I am in better shape again.
As for sleep, my Garmin sleep tracker supports the theory that I am not doing too well at getting a good nights sleep recently. Thankfully my get up and go seems unaffected, with me heading out early for work, to get more miles in on the bike.

I have blood tests coming up next week to see how I am getting along with my uric acid levels, hopefully all is still well there. Then a review, yet to be booked, to see if and when I will drop to 20mg of Citalopram. Add to that physio, MSK and Orthotics all at Lewisham hospital over the coming week, and I am rather busy.
With all that going on, my main aim remains to achieve my cycling distance goal which I set last year, of 3,000 miles. With the amount of time I have had out of the saddle this year, I am shocked I am this close, but happy at the same time.

Hopefully next year will be kinder to me, and I can set a really decent goal. I think looking back, I have probably missed a good three solid months of cycling due to foot and leg issues. Really not ideal.

Before I go, I should add that I have taken a huge leap of faith today, and stepped away from something I have long considered a support to me. Recently realising it caused me more stress and anguish, than good and help, I cut ties today, and already feel better for it.
The manner in which it happened was proof enough that it was the right thing to do.

So, here's to a good weekend for all, I look forward to conversing with anyone out there who wishes to. And next week I can again start chasing my numbers on the bike, consider my next step with meds, and forget all about Xmas lol

Stay in touch people 🙂

First off, I just wanted to say, publicly, what a pleasure it was to meet you all today, and thank you for your time listening to me rambling on about my experiences with depression, anxiety, and lets not forget gout.
As I said at the time, I am truly passionate about helping people have a greater understanding of what it is like to suffer from depression. Feeling a bit down, or a bit grumpy is really not the same. I really do admire people like yourselves who take the path in life to try and help others, however sometimes feel that the theoretical education somehow lacks enough depth to truly grasp some conditions.

I hope today was helpful for you all, and that in amongst some of my tales and analogies, there was some clarity there too. I am grateful for the feedback you all gave at the end, and hope you took as much away from the session as I did. Thank you to Dr Paul for having the foresight to suggest the session in the first place.

There are of course many other matters we did not get to discuss, compacting a few years of depression, the rises and falls, is of course impossible for a 90 minute session. Hopefully in amongst the rest of this blog (Nov 2015- Mid 2016) there is more information on the subjects which may be of interest. There are also entries from way back too which reflect on the depression. My journey through CBT is also in there somewhere.

If you have any further questions about the issues we discussed today, please feel free to contact me via the blog, or emailing me with any questions on snazy123@gmail.com. Also, feel free to share this blog with anyone you choose to, there are no secrets, especially on the internet.

Getting back to the main part of the blog here. I just wanted to add that physical training, cycling, writing, and believe it or not, being tattooed, all play their part in the maintenance of my well-being, as well of course as having the love and support of my close friends, who keep me grounded.

Today for me was a stepping stone, a step in the right direction for me, with getting involved in something I am very passionate about. The understanding, from a first person perspective, of what depression is, how people cope, and what can be done to help them on their journey.

For many, depression and anxiety is not a life long issue, but a journey taken within our lives, more for some than others. Seeing people convinced that they must live by the pill is quite sad, and also worrying. Not to mention the lifestyle choice that people make when they are convinced this is them for life now.  Talking with people who understand and can genuinely empathise with what you are going through is a massive step, certainly for the people I have had the pleasure in helping in my past.
However not all cases are the same, and the idea of getting involved is in no way a pipe dream of a one size fits all fit.

For me, the idea of being able to play a part in other peoples recovery is huge. I don't expect every encounter to be perfect, and am aware that my personality may not be suitable for all. But nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.
If actually being involved directly is not a reality, then the next best thing would be to continue to give my time to enable those who will one day be at the frontline of things. Using every day analogies to make sense of how the depressed mind works. I was pleased that my "it's like" approach finally made some sense today.

After speaking with Dr Paul following the session, I am going to try and get my head around how I can get more involved. Organisations such as MIND are a good starting point, my only concern is how to explain my intentions, with absolutely no academic background whatsoever. We shall see how that goes, I will be sure to update the blog with any progress I make, as well as Dr Paul.

Any thoughts on this venture are welcomed.

Today once and for all clarified for me that I am in the right place mentally now, to start reducing my medication, clear the mind fog which sometimes presents itself, and get on with doing something constructive with my time.
If a legacy were possible for someone like myself, it would be wonderful to think that my efforts and words could be carried forward, and make a difference for even a handful of people. Especially those who are not as fortunate as myself, and have no immediate outlet or support network.

I know I said some pretty damning things both on here, and today about the services offered to those suffering mental health issues. I hope I struck the balance of both grateful and understanding of what is deemed possible from an academic level, whilst highlighting the short falling, and no mans land between what is written and understood, and what actually works for people struggling. There is a balance to be found, and hopefully one day, maybe with input from me and others, it will be achieved.

The message to take is quite simply, the input from the NHS and other health services is instrumental in building the foundations for a recovery from such an experience in life. However theoretical empathy only goes so far. Understanding, and experience bridges the gap which is left. There is nothing quite like being on the level with someone who truly gets where you are coming from.
Building baselines for all to understand, and be able to empathise with is key here, so expect to hear "it's like" quite a lot from me.

Now I shall take some time to reflect on today, and formulate a way which I can try and create this baseline. The input from the students today has been key in building my understanding of what is in place, and what is missing from the current structure. Although I would love to build my knowledge on the academic side of things more for my own benefit and understanding.

Key words from today, baseline, empathy, analogy and understanding.

Just as a final note, I want to sincerely thank Dr Paul for her time for me since we first met. That first blog entry following the consultation was a pivotal moment for me, as has been the continued support from you. To have been given the opportunity to carry out todays exercise has been very special for me, especially on what turned out to be World Mental Health Day. Imagine that.

Here's to the future. For us all 🙂

Thanks for reading as ever.

It is so frustrating at times to site idle while others suffer. Knowing you have information which could help others, you have the ability and time to talk to people who need someone to speak to. Yet no way or means to get involved at the grass roots level.

Over the past few days I have been looking into jobs in mental health, what qualifications are needed, and how I can help with the basic skill set I have. Apparently there isn't a way. Which while understandable, is also frustrating. Sure you can teach people the basics of mental health, draw up a curriculum which covers all the bases, make sure people understand the fundamentals of depression and anxiety. But you can't teach experience.

Somewhere there should surely be a crossover point, where experience and education meet, and can be combined to provide the services which are needed most by those suffering. It is great seeing big names coming out and admitting they are affected by depression, and explain their struggles. Saying things others can relate to, and feel like someone understands them. But that is where it ends. When you come forward and look for help, the understanding ends, and the empathy of education presents itself for the first time.

Having someone tell you they understand, because they have read about it is NOT the same as having someone share stories, or finish your tale for you, showing they truly know what the moment can do to you. The lack of this actual understanding is crippling for some, I certainly lost all faith for quite some time. Luckily I had the guidance to keep pushing me to keep going to the meetings, and to try and see what I could inject into the meetings to try and make them a little more "real" for others so to speak.

The thing I found was, as soon as I started openly sharing how certain incidents and events had made me feel, the whole group seemed to engage, waiting to share their experience too. A few meetings later and it had become the norm for me to offer a story, a real life example of such a feeling, to get the ball rolling, and by the end of the session we were all much more open about yet another aspect of depression or anxiety.

The difference to the first few weeks, and the attempts by the course tutors you try and get people talking, asking complete strangers to interact was almost troubling rather than helpful. Only being able to teach and discuss what you have learned from a book or lectures, while on paper might sound great, really isn't. I reflect back to when my daughter was being born, and the midwife told her mum to relax and enjoy the beauty of birth. When asked how many children she had, she replied none. That didn't get a great response. How can you tell someone how to feel about an experience you have never had... Quite simple, you can't.
In very few walks of life would you take advice from someone who only has theoretical experience in something. So when it comes to something as personal and unique as depression, the textbooks just don't cut it.

I desperately want to be able to intervene. Play a role in getting people who are hidden away in their heads, suffering in silence, speaking out. Not to the world, but just to a human who can be compassionate and genuinely empathise with them. Someone who can give their thoughts the time of day, and allow them to vent all the negativity that is drowning them.
You see, for me, and in my experience, speaking out is the first and most important key to the whole experience. While I have always been open enough to speak to a lot of people about it, there is a time when you feel you have exhausted them with the same stories, and you need someone else to talk to, a blank canvas. Unbiased, non judgemental, and willing to listen.
For me on my last round of depression, that person was Dr Elizabeth Paul at Wells Park Surgery. As my original entry says, I walked in silent, sat and just gazed. There was no immediate prompt from her, just a simple smile which gave me the courage to start trying to explain myself.

The whole entry is here... http://michaelsnasdell.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/the-trip-to-doctors.html

My point here is really, that there is no one right person or way for everyone, we each need to find our own. The person or situation we feel comfortable with, to finally take the first meaningful step. When I have spoken to others about their depression, the common thing I find is the almost relief shown by the person, when you can actually, first hand, appreciate the magnitude of what you are saying.
An example being, going to meet with a friend while I was mid way through my fight with depression most recently. I chose a place to have lunch, somewhere I knew would be quiet, no crowds. My anxiety at that stage was very bad, so people were not my favourite things.
All was fine to start with, however when we started eating, more people started coming in, sitting closer and closer to us. Paradise lost! Matt had no idea what was going on inside my head, but mad panic is the only thing I can describe it as.
When we left and were talking afterwards, in the nicest possible way, it was impossible for him to understand the difference 4-6 more people coming in had made. However speaking to other friends who have been through the same, they got it straight away.

The big issue here is, a lot of people just don't have "that person" around them, and most of the help on hand seems to be from people who are well educated in the field, but really can't fully grasp what you mean. This is a big stumbling block for people. Having finally spoken out about how you are feeling, to suddenly be faced with a stranger who wants to help you, but doesn't understand you, is crippling.

From my experience, things didn't go well from the start. From my first face to face with someone, it felt like I was doomed. The full blog of my first impressions is here.... http://michaelsnasdell.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/touching-base.html

You may be able to tell from the words that it didn't really go too well, and I was left with a rather bitter taste in my mouth. If you read entries further into January, you will see things didn't exactly get much better, not for a while.
Had this interaction been with someone who could understand and properly empathise and assess what I was going through, I think I would have felt much better about the matter. Seeing the speed at which some people dropped out of the subsequent CBT course, I guess for some it didn't get better soon enough. When CBT was explained to me, it was a very rough and vague explanation, reading up on it wasn't much help either. It was only being there, and manipulating it to my own needs, that finally started to make a difference.

After the initial discussion about what CBT was, these were my thoughts.


But the thought I can't get out of my head right now, is the was CBT has been presented to me. My interpretation being that I am in control of my thoughts, and therefore if my thoughts are my problem, and I am in control, it is all my fault. That's how my brain takes it right now. Being told you simply CAN'T do or think something is not a cure. Breaking the cycle, which I know is what CBT is really about is the key. But how do do you that when there are so many triggers and issues to over come?

Here was a person of sound mind, with questionable experience with depression, certainly first hand, telling me in short that I was the issue, and I needed to just forget about the past, and look forwards. Not a great deal of help.

I would dearly love to be able to help people get through this first major step in the program. But it appears academics comes first. To me that feels like teaching someone who can already run, to walk again, because they didn't learn properly. Sometimes, certificates, diplomas and grades count for absolutely nothing at all. Sure, along the process they are without a doubt very important, but for some aspects, you just need to understand, properly. Especially when trying to convince someone to walk out of their door into daylight for the first time in a month.

So here I am, frustrated that due to my lack of qualifications, I am near helpless to play a role in this. Sure some will say, volunteer for Samaritans or similar, but that is just not it. Could I turn my hand to such a thing, probably, would it be as fulfilling as the feeling I felt helping my fellow sufferers through their battle with depression, probably not.

At the end of my CBT course I did consider asking to be the plant in the room, the one who has been through the course, but is there to go through the course again, and try and get things moving. Sure the tutors are doing their best, but from speaking to them, the drop out rate is high, and our group had a "good" retention rate compared to some. That left me thinking that there must be more that can be done.
In the end the course certainly played its part in my recovery, as did a network of friends, and carefully considered distractions. But I honestly feel that I was very close to not bothering with the course, as my blogs show. Had I had some understanding and encouragement from someone who got it, earlier in te process, I might have started feeling a bit more positive sooner.

I applaud anyone who trains to work in mental health. It is a huge problem for our nation, and one which is only getting better. Lack of funding, not enough genuine cases being recognised, but for me, the biggest issue is the lack of understanding in what really helps people in such crisis.

So I am off to scour the internet fr ways I can be more helpful to others. I will also be speaking to my favourite GP about the matter when we meet on Tuesday. I know she won't have the answers, but it is a start, and keeps my mind heading in the right direction.
Any thoughts on how I can get involved are welcomed, so please drop me an email or similar.

Thanks for reading, and here's to getting a better understanding for those suffering.

2

Yes, I know I write a lot about depression. Strange really, but it does consume quite a large chunk of my life in fairness. But this time it is a different perspective.
In the past I have recorded the lows of my days, expressing the loss of control, the uncontrollable feeling of nothingness, and the pointless battle of trying to get out from the slump. Then there have been the fight backs, the recovery, and the jubilation of once again rising from the pit of despair.
Not forgetting my attempts to explain the inexplicable to those who want to, or think they do understand the true depth of depression.

But like I say, this is different. A recent consultation offered me a unique new perspective on the whole matter, and made me realise there is more I could do, should the opportunities arise. To date, I have not sought such a thing. Although have recently set out on a vlogging mission, thanks to another chance encounter with another medical professional.

Back when I did my CBT course, I became aware that I grew in strength and self understanding, while talking to others about my journey. Not counsellors, but a group who were too suffering from anxiety and depression. As the course went on, so I realised that telling your stories, as you understand them, to others, helps them see patterns, and routines in their own lives. Once aware, you are slightly more able to take control. Spurred on by the confidence gained from realising you are not alone, and you are indeed understood by someone at least.
By the end of the course, I was overwhelmed by the number of people from the group who felt I had played a positive part in their improvements, and that my openness was key to that.

On speaking to my GP yesterday, I was very surprised when she expressed an interest in me helping educate a group of medical students. As we discussed it, the idea grew. On agreeing to the the seminar , I realised it is something that really interests me. When my mind is clear, I love trying to put things together and help others understand depression, from my perspective at least. Both medical professionals, and sufferers have something to gain from such discussions.
I am not saying I am the Messiah, and the key to depression. I am not for one second suggesting I understand depression in all its guises, I really don't. However I do believe I have built an understanding of what you might call standard depression and anxiety can drive you to.

Seeing others speaking out on a larger platform about how they have battled with mental health makes me almost feel like I could do more. Be it making myself available to speak to others, getting going on the vlogging, or writing more, I'm not sure. But I do know one thing without a modicum of doubt, I feel compelled to make a difference, and I am truly passionate about helping with depression and anxiety. Maybe sharing my stories with medical students is just the beginning. Maybe I can do this more often?Who knows, but I will be sure to speak to the GP about this.

When I am low, I don't look for help, but occasionally will reach out to someone I know I can trust. I am truly blessed to have a small group of friends who understand this, and are amazing at what they offer at these times. However I am so very aware of how long it takes to build the trust to speak to someone you know about it, or even find someone in your circles who you can talk to. Believe me when I say, that alone is one of the toughest parts of recovery.
For some people, they will either never gain such confidence in their friends, or simply not have the network there to embrace them. This is where it becomes problematic.

When you finally reach out for help, you speak to a GP. The standard assessment will be made, the score will be taken, and if necessary, medication will be prescribed. Sadly for some this is the start of the end. With a health service under pressure, and quite frankly such little understanding of depression from the majority of GP's , you take the pills, feel a bit more balanced, and on you continue. No big attempt to solve the cause of the issue. Being such a vast condition, to a degree I totally understand why this happens.

However, if you fall and bend your leg awkwardly, you are not given painkillers and crutches and sent on your way. Investigations are possible to see the cause of the pain, and treatment given accordingly. Unfortunately the physical body is far easier to make sense of than the brain. And we are full circle on why most cases of depression or anxiety are left unexplained.

If you are lucky like me, and you get an amazing and passionate GP, like Dr Paul, your hopes are better. Along with Dr Mason (my work doctor) they supported me to the point where I could carry on without support. Like the leg injury, they were my crutches which carried me until I could manage alone. From simple sit downs to express where I was mentally, to dosing changes. And of course shoving me in the right direction to get CBT, and stick at it.

Of the tens of thousands of people in the UK on Citalopram and other such medications, I would be curious to know what percentage have ever had any further interventions than being medicated.
I am not saying medication is a bad thing, or evil and addictive. Far from it in fact. But as in my early blog, for me the medication is only there for me to rise back up from the depths of depression, and regain control over the matters which influence my mental state.

Debts, relationships, work and so much more can influence our state of mind.We can get down about it for a while, or we can fall further, lose control and begin to curl up to hide away from it all. That is the point where intervention is needed, and not always just in the medication way. Meds are not the solution for all. In fact I would bet most could be back off them, and balanced of their own accord within a year or so. Depending of course on the changes in their lives, and the root causes of their initial downward spiral.

Sitting here tapping away, I would love to learn more about the subject, and write something meaningful about it, something helpful. A first hand account of what some are going through, and a look through window into the future of hope. I am not the solution, I am not the cure, but I am experienced, and open enough to discuss it with others. Knowing my blog has been read by strangers and impacted them positively just increases my drive to help more.
Speaking to the students could just be the beginning. For the rest of the journey, I need to find my way.

As I sit at the kitchen table, starting to write this blog, for which I have taken 24 hours to think of a name for, I am starting to understand my mindset on the whole matter.

The past year has been very different for me. Meeting Ann, moving in together, making huge physical and mental progress, as well as having many hiccups along the way. Roughly two years ago I was just starting to get caught in the whirlpool of depression. Starting to feel myself losing control, realising I was getting down, and fighting to keep my head above water. After a year long fight, I was in a position where I could say I finally felt back in control of things.

However being in a new relationship, and facing a very different living dynamic than the one I was used to, I wanted to tread carefully, and not rush myself off medication, or into to many changes at once. Almost another year later and I am finally in a position where I feel comfortable in considering a reduction in medication, and taking full control back.

Having been on Citalopram for 2 years now, I am more than aware that being off them will feel rather different to what I have grown used to. Since the first time on them, I am aware of the slight lethargic feeling they cause, which you just grow to accept in your day to day life. My recollection from coming off them last time is clear, and I remember how much more energised I felt, for the first few weeks at least. After that, well that is up to the individual.

And this is where the blog starts really.
There is an inherent fear of losing control early on, when there is no medication to "save you" from what life throws at you. When something unforeseen happens, you have no safety net to catch you. Truth be known, there never was. There is a placebo effect that is common when on such medication, and you feel safe, cocooned if you may. Such faith in the meds, that you feel stronger, and more resistant to outside influences. In reality, your mind is more chemically balanced, the right signals are being sent, and you take strength from this feeling. Almost a sense of enhanced confidence.

This confidence is something a lot of people lack, and it is what starts the downward spiral in the first place for some. Simple matters defeat you, worries begin to control you, and soon you are just along for the ride. The ability to remain in control is what gives this heightened sense of confidence.

Realising this is key for me, especially right now, as I approach the first drop in my Citalopram dose for about 18 months now. Knowing that the sense of control I feel I have now is all me, and not the medication is a sobering thought. It shows me that this person is me, I am not the product of the medication. I am however aware of the balance that the medication has restored in me, and am in no rush to immediately come completely off it. There may be a balance to be found between me and the meds, then again, I may be free of it entirely in the coming months.

The title of the blog is a mantra I need to keep in mind at all times. From home life to work life. Flat out training, to resting in the evening. There are always moments where we need to pause for thought, compose ourselves, and react rationally.  I found myself practising it yesterday in fact, which is what spawned this blog, realising I was actually in control.

A spanner thrown into the works of the day, churning up my thoughts, whilst in mid flow of writing another blog. My initial reaction, rage, anger, and fire straight back. Closing the laptop and walking away for 10 mins was a good start. Deep breath.

Distracting myself with something else, watching a YouTube video, gave me time to consider the matter, and contemplate my response. Was one even needed. Count to ten, think about it.

With a few minutes taken to consider the outcomes of all scenarios (classic trait of an over thinker, but that is another story) I relaxed. Realising that any response would simply perpetuate the situation, and each cycle would simply trouble me more, and not resolve anything. Sometimes the cause is just not worth the battle.

That however is just one example. Somehow my mind finds itself in these situations too often, and that is my next battle. There is only so much one can do when it comes to change and influence. Speak your mind if there is hope of a constructive outcome. If the outcome is pretty clear from the offset, why even bother involving and upsetting yourself? A mantra I can recite, but not one I am familiar with following, yet!

To support this change in medication, and what will no doubt be a bit of a strange time for me, to say the least, I have also decided to take control of matters in other ways too.

Having been sat at home bored senseless for weeks on end this year, with foot issue after foot issue, the time has come to stand up to it, pun intended. Having now been through the medical mill, tested, scanned, xrayed, medicated, reviewed, and currently going through physio, the one message I have taken from it is, it's not going to get better any time soon. However, gently pushing on should cause minimal harm.

Now a long way away from my 3,000 mile cycling goal this year, this is one of the things which stresses me out, after all cycling is my great escape. And my very own body has denied my mind this escape. Failure is NOT an option, I must succeed.

Whilst in with the doctor yesterday, which I will return to shortly, I discovered my weight has skyrocketed while I have been laid up, and I am now a HUGE 117kg or 257lbs (18.3 stone). A month ago I was 245lbs! This is not good, neither mentally nor physically. Extra strain on my body is unwanted, and is just going to cause me more issues, especially as it is my feet which have to bear the brunt of it all.

So, medication change is tied first place with weight loss. They go hand in hand, and support one another. Health = movement, movement = freedom, freedom = happiness, happiness = good mental health. I am not unfamiliar with losing weight or increasing fitness, in fact I love the challenge of it, but the timing has to be right.
Knowing I have almost 1,000 more miles to cycle this year is a kick in the backside for sure. With my experience of low calorie diets, HIIT (high intensity interval training) and getting stuck into long rides, I reckon the bar should be set high for my improvements for myself this year. Targets yet to be set, but rest assured they wont be easy ones.

So the plan, as with the medication is to get started with it all next week. One big start line for the whole lot. This coincides with my return to work also, so that alone will help with the routine side of things. It also gives me the remainder of this week to work on the advice from the physio, to regain more movement in my right ankle before working it. There are 87 days left in this year or just over 12 weeks, so plenty of time to get back where I want to be.  Watch this space.

In the meantime, I will carry my mantra, Breath, count, control, and apply it to any challenge which presents itself. It is simple really, the hardest part for me will be preventing the initial knee jerk reaction, to let the rest of the cycle play out. But I know I can do it, if I put my mind to it.

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 🙂

Quite surprising really, but at the same time, I guess I have learned how to cope too.
Deciding yesterday morning that I would NOT take any more anti inflammatory tablets until I felt physical discomfort. Until now I have done the usual and stayed ahead of the curve. Taking them at regular intervals to keep it all minimal. There has definitely been some discomfort in that time, so it was not pointless.

However, I'm trying to go easy on my body, and avoid taking excessive amounts. I discussed with the GP how I should continue from this point re medication and what to expect from the recovery process. The decisions were simple, carry on doing what I am doing. Stretching, exercising gently, resting where possible and taking meds as and when required, when the sensations start to register.

This morning, as I was med free, I decided against taking the dogs on a walk, just in case I jarred something, and instead took myself for a gentle walk. Planning about 3 miles, which I am used to running in about 27 mins, or walking in 48-50, it took me just shy of an hour today. That included a couple of stop and stretches, as things were getting tight. But the pace was literally 3 mph. Expecting to suffer for doing this, I came home and got into some yoga stretches, releasing the tension from my lower back and shoulders.

It was a good decision, and within 10 mins of getting home, I was once again relaxed, with no tightness in my back. To the point where I am catching myself out bending down to do things with the ease I once did so. It's a good feeling to be able to get on with things without worry or pain.

That said, it's not all rosey. There is some discomfort still, and I know a lot of the current lack of pain is down to a lack of activity too. I'm not going to say I am healed or fully recovered, and won't be able to either until I have returned to running and cycling.
This weekend I will miss the Prudential 100 which I had so looked forwards to doing, but I know it is for the best. However I want to be back in the saddle soon.  I feel like I am really missing out on summer and some amazing adventures.

I won't be rushing though, once with this is enough for me, and my road ahead will include doing everything I can to avoid a re-occurrence of this. Having gained weight, I now realise how well I was doing. Yo-yo'ing isn't usually quite this quick, so rapidly regaining some weight really puts a toll on the body which has got used to being without it very quickly.
Needless to say I am doing everything I can to lose it again ASAP. Back to healthy(ish) eating already, Monday will show if it is working as it is my first checkpoint.

I am hoping that in the next 14 days I can forget about taking pills unless I do anything strenuous, and that in the same time-frame I can do some running at home on the treadmill, (and some cross trainer for quads and glutes), and some short and gentle rides on the bikes. At least start to normalise my activities, so as my body repairs, it repairs the right way, allowing for these movements. Rather than healing, and THEN getting used to joint movements all over again.

Tomorrow I have a review meeting with my chiropractor, who has been instrumental in this recovery progress. Releasing the tension in my back, allowing the muscles to come out of spasm, and start to repair themselves. Thanks to Noel for the recommendation. I should come away with exercises to do, based on my goals moving forwards. Some of which have already been discussed, and fit in nicely with the Track Yoga program I am following at the moment, which alone has had a big impact on my morning stiffness, and helped me start my day the right way.

All in all, this is the most positive I have felt for months now, and can't wait to get moving properly again. My Garmin weekly summary is really up on what it has been for weeks now.

Hopefully I can get the whole screen full of those bars in the next couple of weeks, and really start to burn some calories, and get the miles in.

Speaking of moving and steps, I have also discovered that 2 pairs of my trainers are possibly causing me issues too, turning my feet in, which would in turn stress my hips and glutes. Needless to say they are on their way to the bin now.
Its annoying and confusing though, as the pair of trainers I first started running in, Nikes in a UK 9.5 were pinching my toe after the first couple of months of running, but otherwise were perfect. Being logical, I replaced them with a UK 10 of the same shoe... Which has decided to have no inner support, and allows the feet to roll in.  Half a size, huge difference.

So now I am left wondering. Replacing another of my pairs of trainers, which are currently feeling OK, but wearing as if they are a tiny bit short... Do I go with the 9.5 again, or up them to a UK 10 too, and run the risk they will be totally different too. . Decisions decisions. Currently tempted to buy in both sizes and see how they both fair. Nike Lunar Forever are lovely ! I am sure I will do something totally irrational over the weekend. But will be discussing this with the chiropractor tomorrow also.

So that is me for now, on the mend, itching to get going, but all under control. Here's to upping the distances and speeds slowly and safely over the coming weeks, and riding properly by the end of August.

Thanks for reading, and take care of your back.

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.

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!

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.