Running Out of Ideas

It's been a while since I last posted anything and today it's taken me all day to do a load of washing and eat something, so this post probably won't be the most eloquent or entertaining I'm afraid. 

At this point I feel like literally nothing will help me. I talk to my friends and family about how I feel all the time. Almost every day. I tell them about how I feel suicidal and physically tired all the time and they offer words of support and encouragement with the patience and dedication of superheroes. It makes no difference to me, though. After I've opened up, reached out, got it off my chest or however you want to phrase it, nothing is solved and if anything, I feel worse for going in to the specifics of why I feel the way I do. 

 I've been to see my GP, who suggested an extended period of abstinence from alcohol and any other recreational substances. I'll do it, but I don't expect anything to change in terms of how I feel. I've done it before and just felt like I was denying myself the little bit of pleasure I do occasionally experience. After that, they're taking blood tests. I have to wait for a month until I can get an appointment to get blood taken, then another 20 days until I get the results. So that's at least six weeks of enforced sobriety with no weekend blowouts or midweek beers to dull the monotony of daily life. 

I'm tired all the time. I sleep for 12 hours or more every night because of the sedative effects of mirtazipine. When I was taking 30 mg I would wake up and feel as if somebody had injected me with adrenaline. It's terrifying. For no reason at all, my body goes in to a heightened state and I can't function until I've calmed down. This can take more than half a day. Sometimes I just have to ride it out and wait until its time to go to bed again. I've reduced my dose to 15mg, after asking my doctor if this was worth doing. I now struggle with feeling so tired and unfocused that working seems impossible. I have writing work to be getting on with, but I struggle to focus on it. My mind keeps wandering and I feel a constant heaviness and sense of fatigue. 

I've had so much therapy and so many types of antidepressants that I'm now starting to lose hope. The therapy offered on the NHS works in blocks of six or twleve sessions and you are generally stuck with whichever therapist they assign to you. If their approach doesn't work for you, then tough. There's not enough money to provide the kind of long term, consistent support that people like me need. I've tried abstaining from drink and drugs, talking therapy, opening up to my friends and family, walking in the countryside, exercising every day for about two months, mindfulness, meditation, positive visualization, CBD oil, herbal tea, 3 types of anti depressants and six different therapists, but I still feel so low that life feels utterly pointless. 

 I played two sets this new years eve and both went down amazingly well. Strangers came up to me after I played to tell me how much they enjoyed it and both rooms we performed in were busy and full of bouncing bodies the whole time we were on. My family love me, my friends love me and I have a good support network, but none of this changes the fact on a daily basis, I feel so physically tired and miserable that I struggle to function. I'm running out of options and at this point, I am too tired to carry on trying new things just to notice they have little or no effect on my mood. 

I know where my issues come from and I know that long term psychological therapy with a properly qualified psychologist or psychiatrist would be the best way for me to learn to manage this seemingly relentless depression and anxiety that have robbed me of any sense of enjoyment for the past ten years. I don't have the money to pay for a private therapist and with the NHS being in its current state, I feel as if I'm fighting a losing a battle. What people don't seem to understand about severe depression and anxiety is that its completely different to the every day feelings and emotions you experience. Every day pleasures like eating, listening to music, watching TV, playing games or whatever else I try inevitably leave me feeling bored, agitated or unable to focus for long enough to enjoy anything. Almost all of the advice I get is useless. I appreciate the help and the fact that people want to try and make me feel better, but unless you have been through this level of blackness and despair. Unless you have seriously considered taking your own life, you have literally no idea what I'm going through and no idea how to help me. 

I think it needs to be restated, just so that this sinks in. Depressed people experience the world completely differently to healthy people. Their brain chemistry is profoundly altered which means they can't do what you do. They can't see the good in things, no matter how much they try. If they're anything like me, any attempt to look on the bright side, challenge negative thoughts or celebrate their achievements will feel as if they are lying to themselves. The bleak reality of the world is a massive contributing factor, too. Though it's nice to believe we should all be living our best lives and doing what makes us happy, the fact we have to work to acquire enough money to live negates this kind of unrealistic thinking entirely. The fact is that we all need to work and most of us hate our jobs. You can argue all you want, but that's something most people will agree with. The world isn't set up to allow us all to be free and happy, doing creative, stimulating things. It's set up to make money. Our jobs are based on repetition and productivity, not well being and personal enrichment. I accepted this when I was about 12. I'm not a bleeding heart liberal hippy who believes anything will actually change when it comes to the way the world works, but this cold, unpleasant truth has to be acknowledged, especially by those who provide mental health services. 

Whenever I have seen therapists in the past, all of their advice and treatment comes from that perfect place that only exists in advert land. It doesn't relate to the world we all inhabit. Sitting with my eyes shut thinking positive thoughts helps for the seven minutes I'm doing that, but when I come back to my reality of financial problems caused by years of patchy employment thanks to my consistently poor mental health, it all seems like abstract, philosophical bullshit. Why I'm willing to put myself through two months of sober torture just to see a therapist who probably won't be able to help me is anyone's guess. Maybe I'm desperate. It's kind of all I have left. After all of the lifestyle changes and attempts to treat myself with the suggestions of others, I still wake up feeling like shit and like I'd rather not be here. I need long term, consistent help and I'm running out of the considerable patience and resilience needed to get it. 

Whenever I post something like this, I usually get hundreds of nice messages from people telling me they care about me and want to help. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but it doesn't help me. No matter how many people tell me they think I'm awesome, it doesn't change the way I feel. As I said, I know where my issues come from and the kind of long term, in depth psychological therapy that's needed to help me build up a better sense of self esteem and worth is expensive or extremely hard to find on the NHS. I'm all out of suggestions now and I've tried so many new things to help myself that any further suggestions just irritate me to the point of anger or even rage.

I won't kill myself. I've promised myself and my family that, but the thoughts are there almost every day. I'm trying to see something positive in all this, but right now it feels like I'm staring in to a two month long abyss where I can expect literally no pleasure whatsoever. Sports bore me to death, wholesome things make me feel queasy or just numb and disappointed that I don't have the same sense of warmth that other people have. I don't want children, marriage is utterly ridiculous to me and owning a house is completely unrealistic and not something I'm interested in working towards anyway. I seem to want completely different things to most people, which makes life quite difficult at the best of times. Add depression and anxiety to this and things get much worse.

I have an idea of how I'd like my life to be. I'd like to continue DJing as much as I can, write for a living, which I'm sort of doing at the moment, and preferably spend as much time as humanly possible doing things I enjoy. The problem I have is that I feel so physically and mentally tired all the time, working as a freelancer feels unbelievably difficult. I've tried working in offices with other people but it stresses me out so much I end up having to get signed off after a few weeks. I just can't stand to be around people for that long. Every week day, the same faces, the same tasks and the same commute. Then you add the office politics, the relentless “banter” and the fact I'm essentially giving up most of my life to make someone I've never met a little bit richer than they already are. No. I can't do it. So freelancing is the way forward, but it's not an easy road. I will try to continue as best as I can but on days like today, everything seems pointless.

I'm running out of steam and my vocabulary isn't anywhere near as good as it should be today, so I'm going to stop. There's no advice or message of hope here. I feel like shit and I felt like writing something about it, so there you go. 

Changing

After a trip to see my GP today, I've found out I'm not dependent on alcohol or anything else. She's apparently worked with a lot of people who are and I don't fit the bill. So although I'm not going to be rushing out to buy 12 cans and then smash them all in at once, it's good to know that I don't have to be some kind of teetotal monk who doesn't touch anything that alters consciousness. Saying that, while I'm working with my current therapist, being mindful is really important in terms of noticing how I'm feeling and trying to change it. It's much easier to block out the feelings of misery and hopelessness or panic and fear with a few cans or whatever else. It doesn't really work, though. That's the problem. The feeling I live with is always there underneath the surface. Some days it's so strong that I feel like I want to die, other days it's just lingering in the background like a witless heckler at a comedy gig. It's not going to cause me any serious damage, but it's as irritating as being stuck in a small room with a hyperactive wasp. So although I'm not planning to be entirely teetotal, I am planning to reduce my intake significantly and may still speak to somebody about the way I frame my use of booze and weed. Oblivion is an appealing prospect when you feel like I do, but almost certainly not a healthy one.

After being on citalopram for around 4 years, maybe 5, I can't remember, I've complained about feeling so tired that all I want to do is sleep all the time. I also have problems with concentration and end up staring in to space a lot. That's what they do, they numb you. Like being stoned or on Valium without the good bits. So my GP has suggested that I change to Venlafaxine, a slightly different class of anti depressant. Where Citalopram and Sertraline are SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors) this one is a SNRI (Serotonin–norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor) so hopefully, I should feel less tired and cloudy headed all the time. When your main skill is to write things using the contents of your brain, feeling as if you haven't been to bed and your head is full of wet cotton wool and thoughts of hopelessness tends to reduce your productivity a bit, if you know what I mean.

So over the next week my doctor has asked me to reduce my citalopram intake and increase my Venlafexine gradually and according a plan she has written up for me. I'm not looking forward to the brain zaps (electric shock sensations that shoot from your extremities to your head) or the stomach upsets, sweating and tingling skin, but maybe I'll get lucky and avoid some of the side effects by moving on to another type of antidepressant quickly. If not, I'll just have to live with it. Strange how the things that are prescribed to make you better can be so ineffective and even potentially damaging to your mood. I haven't felt truly happy in years, but somewhere in the background of all this, I do have a belief that I will beat what I'm going through. Not by going for a run or the old classic "manning up" but by going through the slow and steady process of therapy, antidepressants, mindfulness and positive thinking. It's not fun, any of this. In fact most of it feels like a massive chore. A ball ache so big you don't believe it's worth the hassle. But what's my alternative? Continue to sleep for around 15 hours a day on average and still feel tired. Continue being unable to function and work for a full day. Allow the obsessive thoughts that invade my head to win and eventually kill myself. That's not much of an alternative, really, so I think I'll stick with the plan I have.

I've got parties, stag dos and other social events coming up soon. Despite thinking of myself as the worst kind of miserable killjoy there is, I'm lucky enough to have a huge group of extremely supportive friends from around the UK and beyond. I get invited to things quite a bit and although I sometimes convince myself that I'm like a less endearing version of Eeyor from Winnie the Pooh, evidently, it's only really me who thinks that way. Well, part of me...It's complicated, this mental health business, especially when you really look in to it and believe me, I've looked in to it in quite a lot of detail. The negative thoughts that I have almost constantly come from a subconscious, inner critic, which has been so dominant for so long, I've started to believe that's how I really think. If there's anything to be done, my inner critic will find a reason not to do it. Saying it's either pointless or will be so boring that it's not even worth considering. To challenge this, I've started doing mindfulness exercises. Sometimes they work and I can observe these thoughts happening without judging them, like watching them form from outside of myself, other times, it doesn't work and all I can hear is my sneering inner critic saying "well, this is stupid." On the good days, I get some things done. Not much, as I feel so tired all the time, but something. It could be a blog like this or a load of washing that needs doing. Those things sound like five minute jobs to most people, but they currently take up a whole day for me.

Eventually and with practice, different medication and perseverance, I do believe I can beat this. It just feels utterly hopeless when even the nicest of comments, the most well  meaning of gestures and the tightest of hugs make you feel nothing at all. Those are the days when suicide seems reasonable. They don't happen all the time, but over the past few weeks I've had more days like that than I would wish on anybody. I'll never be the kind of twat who goes to the gym for fun or openly admits they "enjoy a challenge." I'm just not that guy. I want an easy life that I enjoy and to live on my own terms. I've started writing for a living already so I suppose I've taken a step in the right direction, I just need to keep looking for things that make me happy. Faking it is worse than not doing it all, as I learned from my years working in education and a few experimental nights out in trendy bars and clubs when I was student. When you feel as if you don't belong somewhere, your smile feels manic and forced. I want to avoid situations like that as much as I can. You only live once and I do intend to enjoy as much of my life as I possibly can. Even if I am a bit strange and hate so many of the things that make other people happy, there must be something out there for me. I already love music so much I would rather go blind than deaf and I still have at least a passing interest in literature as long is it isn't some pretentious shite about rich bastards from the past or some pedestrian yarn about the pain of being alive. Sorry to labour the point, but I don't really need to go to fiction to experience that kind of thing, I live it every day. Maybe I'll get in to Sci Fi or something. The sneering critic in me always had serious problems with suspension of disbelief elements, not to mention the woeful acting and gaping plot holes, but I have enjoyed the likes of Bladerunner, Vermillian Sands and a few other texts here and there as well. The main thing is that I want to start looking for opportunities to be happy, rather than listening to my subconscious voice (that seems very real and very present) when it tells me that nothing is worth doing.

As always, this was done in one take so it might be a little garbled. One day I'll go back and edit these. If you struggle with mental health problems, too. I hope you find the strength to carry on and survive another day.

So what now?

Today, while talking to my therapist, I admitted I have a problem with alcohol. I don't drink vodka straight from the bottle in the mornings or hide whisky in my jacket pocket for when I'm out and about, but I have realised that I compare everything I do to the fun of getting wrecked. My depression and anxiety are so acute that when I'm sober I am either so anxious about a range of racing, unfocused thoughts that I can't concentrate on anything or I feel so miserable that I don't get any pleasure from anything. One of the reasons I've always felt as if there was something wrong, is that I don't enjoy wholesome, supposedly naturally "fun" things like country walks, football or any sport for that matter. The whole culture that is attached to sport or exercise alienates me entirely. Pushing yourself, feeling the burn, being part of a team, all that shit means less than nothing to me. I work better alone, hence starting out as a freelance writer and I feel nothing but exhaustion and a sense that all the shouting and running around taking place near to my person is not only utterly futile, but extremely irritating. I don't enjoy displays of machismo or bravado at all. I have punched people in the face in the past. Even headbutted somebody once, so when it comes down to it, I can express my inherent sense of testosterone driven lad, but it's almost always a last resort and never something I find fun. I like to think we've evolved beyond using grunts and shouts to communicate and the idea of hoofing a ball around, climbing up and over stuff or driving dead fast around a track just makes me shrug as if someone had offer me a segment of unripe, bitter orange. I'm just not interested.

When I'm at my happiest I'm dancing around at a drum and bass night or similar, noisy musical event that involves getting a little bit wrecked. I can and have enjoyed a few nights like this sober in the past, so all is not completely lost, but at the same time, the warm, fuzzy feeling of being surrounded by bass and bouncing bodies while you are half cut is literally irreplacable to me. Similarly, the lazy stretch of a Sunday afternoon high watching TV that's so basic you have to be a little bit hammered to watch it, is a definite high point for me. I'm INFJ if you go in for Carl Yung and his personality types. That means I'm not naturally sociable and need my own space to recharge as I find social interactions both enjoyable and exhausting. People irritate me, what can I say. Sometimes I like to speak to them, other times, I really don't want to hear their shit. I have enough to deal with, what with feeling suicidal at times and having been through more therapists than you would imagine for a man of 36. So happiness to me has always been cerebral. An escape from my own poisonous thoughts or a soft focus around the edges of an intense musical experience, a film or a game. Sober activities like mixing can provide enjoyment but I need to practice feeling a sense of pleasure rather than just a sense of innate criticism of my own abilities and the poor quality of my DJing equipment. I can just focus on the music when I'm high or drunk, but not when I'm sober. This and a range of many other things, is why I have decided that I need to take a sustained break until I can feel some kind of pleasure or enjoyment in day to day life.

I have always despised going to work. Not in the cheeky, wink wink, oh you don't need to be mad here, but it helps, kind of way. The actual, feeling physically sick at the thought of having to spend so much time in the same room as people you would happily never see or speak to again if you were given the choice, way. I never felt good for giving advice to young people, no matter how much they thanked me for my time and I never felt good for teaching kids English and other things in schools and colleges. All I felt was a sense that I had managed to fake it through for another day and that eventually, probably before the end of the week, I could get shitfaced and do something cool again. I know a lot of people dislike their jobs, but to regularly think about suicide because you can't comprehend a life of doing things you hate, if that's normal, then somebody has been keeping it a secret.

I have literally no idea what I'm supposed to do now. Everything that motivated me was based on the promise of getting wrecked. I couldn't give a shit about food and the process of preparing it, shopping for it, talking about it or even thinking about it too much bores the living piss out of me. I have as much interest in food as I do in taking a shit. It's just something that has to be done. I don't like kids or the seemingly monotonous, bland lifestyle that comes with raising a family, so I have no aspirations in that direction whatsoever. I appreciate that some people might want that and like everybody I can smile when people show me cute pictures of their offspring or relations, but in my gut, I don't want that for myself. The sleepless nights, the worry, the expense and the restrictions on lifestyle put me off so much that it doesn't seem worth it to me. Travel is similarly unappealing. Admittadly, I would like to travel if I could afford to stay in four star hotels and eat in good quality restaurants every night while watching bands, going to nightclubs and doing other things I enjoy; but the majority of travel stories I hear involve roughing it, living out of a backback, sleeping on trains and a whole lot of walking about and looking at temples. I just don't care about shit like that. I'm aware of architecture and art, cultural and heritage sites etc, but if you asked me to choose between wandering about looking at a thousand year old castle or getting high and listening to loud bass in a club, it would be the second one, every single time.

I've tried these things. I've tried sport, I don't like it. Food's fine but I couldn't give a shit about talking bollocks about ingredients or the cultural resonance of my black pasta and truffle shavings. Raising a family seems like sacrificing the freedom, privacy and autonomy that I consider one of the only reasons it's actually sometimes alright to be alive. I just can't imagine giving up all the things that make life enjoyable to eventually rot away watching terrible TV about other people who watch terrible TV but say cleverly written sound bites at opportune moments. If that's all there is, I'm in trouble. I would rather be dead than so unhappy that my only release is kicking a ball around or cooking an elaborate meal. Yes there's always beer or other things, but that's been my point all along. If that's all there is to make me happy, something isn't right and I need to find something else. I have no idea what that something is, but the way I'm living at the moment is doing nothing but setting me up for a fall that I might never get up from. So from tomorrow, it's done. I'm going to be a miserable, boring, angry bastard, but I will be alive and trying to stay that way.

Sorry to end on a downer, but depression tends to do that to you.

Cheers.

A New Approach

There are more blogs, websites and social media accounts dedicated to helping people with mental health problems than ever before. This is a good thing, maybe even a great thing. It raises awareness of the many, complex conditions people have to battle and it provides a sense of connection and community for those who need it. Unfortunately, when it comes to depression, the varying degrees of the condition make it so complex that advice or strategies that might work for one person will mean less than nothing to somebody else. I recently saw a post where people discussed their favourite songs for coping with a panic attack. I couldn't comprehend this. When I have a panic attack I'm incapable of functioning and I experience physical symptoms like an upset stomach, shortness of breath and a feeling that I'm never going to be able to move again. Listening to music just isn't an option when I feel that bad, in fact one of the symptoms of a particularly bad panic attack or depressive episode is that music that once sounded so good to me is just irritating and grating. I avoid listening to music in situations like this after feeling like I wanted to die while listening to The Wailers play Three Little Birds live with a group of friends. That chorus that reminds us "every little thing, is going to be alright" still sounds hollow when I think back to how empty and numb I felt, despite being surrounded by loving, smiling faces.

I'm not saying advice like this trivialises mental health conditions, but I do wonder to what extent they can help people who suffer with more severe forms of depression and anxiety. After my most recent therapy session, I learned a lot about how our drive systems work, particularly the part of the brain that deals with processing threats. Seemingly, my brain releases adrenaline and cortisol too often, which explains why I'm lying awake in bed at 4am, writing this blog, instead of sleeping, like a normal person. Music can probably activate the soothing system that produces opiates and oxytocin in the brain and indeed, when I feel like listening, it's something that gives me a sense of strength, power and focus. The severity of my depressive episodes and panic attacks is so acute that when I experience them, I feel literally incapable of doing anything but lying down and trying to sleep. I wait for it to pass, which it sometimes does, but more often doesn't.

The idea of "self care" is fantastic but it looks very different for everybody. Ive seen so many articles about eating ice cream, watching comedy or playing with pets that despite their best intentions, they now grate on me like the sound of a wasp too close to your ear. I wish things like that helped me when I felt like wanting to die or when I have so much nervous energy I can't focus, but they don't. Only things that alter my consciousness, like alcohol, are helpful in moments like that. The suppression of the negative feelings is powerful and usually quick, but as we all know, this isn't a healthy coping strategy. It is, however, one that many people use, sometimes daily, to deal with intolerable emotions or feelings. In fact, the western world's ritualistic use of alcohol at the end of a difficult day or week has become so normalised that abstain is often treated with suspicion or even derision among certain social groups. (Especially mine. I'm a 36 year old white, lower middle class male from a northern market town.)

So if music doesn't work, alcohol or anything that otherwise alters my consciousness artificially is ultimately bad for me, what's left? Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, that's what. Pills that make you feel sick, tired and numb. At least that's my experience of them, anyway. I've been taking them for five years now, maybe more, I honestly can't remember. They provide a sense of unnatural detachment that leaves me in a permanent torpor from which it feels difficult to do much but the most basic of activities. Cooking, showering, walking to the shop to buy food and maybe basic repetitive administration tasks. I'd like to come off them but it's not really that simple. The withdrawal effects can be nightmarish and considering how bad I feel at the moment, I don't really want to add to my problems, so I'll stick with them and the therapy as a means of treatment, at least for the time being.

Today marks something of a starting point for me. Having experienced something of a revelation during therapy today, I realised that in order to properly cope with the things I experience every day, I need to engage with the way I'm really feeling. Even if those feelings are frightening, upsetting and unbelievably negative, I need to face them head on. That means being sober. I've identified patterns of behaviour that happen when I use alcohol or anything else that alters consciousness to cope and unfortunately, I lack the sense of will power or balance to function properly when I allow myself to use them. Oblivion is a surprisingly attractive prospect when you've thought about dying or when you can't feel a single positive emotion about anything, no matter how hard you try. So for now, it's glasses of water in the pub for me and an acceptance that I'm going to feel utterly miserable most of the time while I learn how to cope with the way the chemicals in my brain make me feel.

Since starting this most recent round of therapy, I've been introduced to more positive ways of coping with intolerable feelings. Most of them involve simple breathing techniques and visualising the way you would like yourself to be. So far, I've seen mixed results. Some days feel brilliant and I start to believe that I can make a living from writing, which is my main career ambition. On other days I feel a sense of misery and self loathing so profound that I question whether or not it's worth being alive. This is apparently quite normal for somebody with severe depression and anxiety. Some days, the techniques will work and allow me to function well, other days they won't. Managing my levels of expectation is the last thing I considered but understanding that not every day will feel the same is a helpful approach when it comes to coping with this condition. It's difficult, almost impossible to accept that "it's okay" to feel so ill that I can get out of bed some days. Especially when I'm duty bound to prove that I am actively working on my new writing business in order to avoid benefit sanctions, but accepting that the nature of recovery from a profound and life defining condition like depression and anxiety is slow, complex and often inconsistent is one of the keys to getting better.

As always, this post was written in one take with no edits, so apologies for any inconsistencies or bizarre autocorrect based misunderstandings, I did type this on my phone at 4am. I hope this has provided an insight in to what living with depression and anxiety is like and that it's somehow helpful for other people who might be going through similar things.

Happy New Year.

After a year that's given us more celebrity deaths than Mars Attacks and the kind of news stories that belong on Chris Morris' "Brass Eye" it seems reasonable that a lot of people are feeling miserable. As I've said in this blog before, misery and depression are completely separate things, but if you already have a mental health condition, a year like this can really tip the scales at times.

We know 2016 has been bad, though. I'm sick of hearing how bad it's been. I was there, I remember the sick, panicky feeling in my stomach the morning after hordes of angry people voted for Brexit. I don't usually feel like that unless my anxiety decides to kick in, life events pass by to moderate or nonchalant reactions due to the numbing effect of citalopram, but that morning I felt sick, just from watching the news. I'm sure a lot of other people felt the same. The less said about our religious, grey faced and hyper patriotic leader, the better and let's just not even go there when it comes to the other guy. You know. The orange one who's a bit grabby and racist. Lives in America. Terrible man. Terrible, terrible man.

What I'd like to do is offer some positivity. If you know me or if you've read this blog before, you'll know I'm not a fan of sweeping statements and over emotive quotes on social media. Similarly, the huge number of self care posts that seem to suggest an imbalance in brain chemistry coupled with traumatic events or injury can be fixed by eating chocolate and having a bubble bath are extremely irritating. That said, I want to try and stay positive against the odds. So no more criticism in this post, there will be plenty time for that next year.

This year, I left a terrible job in a callcentre. I initially felt like a failure as I lay in bed, numb from Valium and no sleep. Surely I should have been able to manage something as basic as data entry in a cell centre? No. I couldn't. My brain shut down, it became so anxious I felt sick and the noise of people chattering around me meant I couldn't concentrate on anything. My doctor signed me off and urged me to find a new job, ideally something I actually enjoy, at least some of the time.

I went back to supply teaching/learning support. It was ok. Badly paid and boring if I'm honest. I had no passion for it and the less said about the state of the education system in the UK, the better. I was a teacher of one form or another for years but it never felt right for me. It's so restrictive. The nature of the role means you're scrutinised and expected to be a model human. I'm not a shining example of moral and educational excellence, I enjoy a life that contains many, many things that would be considered "NSFW" and I eventually realised, I'm fine with that. So I left. I started freelancing. It wasn't the most interesting job, but it gave me the experience of writing stuff for money (alongside a lot of admin) as well as managing my own work load. It was tough, but compared to waking up feeling sick with anxiety at the thought of having to make small talk in an office, it was much, much better.

After the job ended I did another short stint of supply teaching/support to get by. Then something snapped. I realised I had to change something, so I decided to start my own online writing business. It's still in it's early stages and if I'm honest, I'm terrified about the uncertainty the future holds when I think about it, but I needed to make a change. After researching other content writers who work from home, I realised a lot of people do this. There's money to be made. Not mega bucks but I've never been especially driven by cash anyway. Enjoying my life always seemed more important. After losing two friends who were under the age of 35, I started to question that horrific daily grind and the misery it brings. I'm not doing it any more. Instead, I'm trying to convince myself that I can be a successful online content writer that works from home. I've got some experience now and I can string a sentence together without too much difficulty, so I think I've got a good chance of making this work.
If it doesn't work, there are other options. Working for agencies, part time bar work with occasional writing work alongside. DJing work if I can get it.
I'm probably the most skint I've ever been but now that I'm seeing a proper clinical psychologist, living in a city I love with people I love, I'm genuinely starting to feel the faint flickers of the flame of positivity. So no more complaining about the horrific year behind us. I need to focus on what could go well, what opportunities are ahead and how much better I can potentially feel. If you're with me and you support me, thank you. If you aren't, please take your negativity and go elsewhere. I don't have the time or the strength to deal with happiness theives  any more.

Good luck with whatever you are doing in 2017 and if you suffer with mental health issues, I wish you the strength to carry on and overcome.
X

Merry Christmas

When anxiety decides it wants to mess your life up, it doesn't negotiate. I've spent the whole of today feeling as if I'm about to go in to an important job interview or deliver a presentation to 500 people.What I'm actually preparing to do is so simple and innocuous I feel utterly ridiculous for reacting like this. I'm going to visit my family and friends for Christmas. That's it. I have a brilliant relationship with my family and friends. I don't feel like I have to hide anything or pretend to be happy, as so many who suffer with mental issues do, but despite all of my rationalising and analysis of a situation that should be one of the highlights of my year, I've barely been able to function today.

This time of year can be so difficult due to the dark days and the terrible weather but these things are to be expected. If you're a bit of a cynic, like me, the glittering turd that is the media's representation of Christmas can wear you down with its promises of purchasing based joy. I'm sort of used to all of those things now, though. The thing that takes me by surprise every time is that no matter how hard I try to feel good about this time of year, no matter how many times I explain how simple and easy the situation really is to myself, my body and brain are flooded with adrenaline and cortisol. I'm primed to argue, fight or escape. None of the things I really want to do at Christmas. I'd rather just relax with my friends and enjoy seeing my family. For me, there are some external factors at play, here. I have recently decided to start an online writing business, so the stress and uncertainty of that will probably be an issue. I've also just started seeing a psychologist after two years on a waiting list. The sessions have been intense and tiring, but incredibly enlightening. Despite what all those soft focus pictures emblazoned with comic sans text that people post on social media may try and tell you, according to science, depression and anxiety are not choices, they are illness caused by chemical imbalances in the brain.

Knowing this gives me a sense of relief in some ways. As you can imagine, I don't actually feel any better and I still get incredibly frustrated with myself when I don't feel like I'm in control of the way I feel. Tonight, I was supposed to be going to meet some friends for drinks and Arcade based fun but considering it's taken me around four hours to get out of bed, I just can't face it. Once again, my friends are excellent and told me not to worry about it. I find that when I'm 100% honest with the people I care about, they understand why I might cancel plans. Although I can't help but blame myself, they don't, which means a lot to me.

If I frame the last two years objectively, things have been good. I've moved to a new city, made new friends, secured myself DJ gigs and worked in a few different jobs. Now I'm starting my own business with the hope of leaving the 9-5 office lifestyle behind for good. Logically, there's very little reason for me to feel the way I do, but as I've said before in this blog. Depression and anxiety are not rational or logical.

So for tonight, I'm packing for a trip back up North that I will no doubt enjoy immensely. I'm DJing to a crowd of people who love my music, I get see my 1 year old nephew who finds me hilarious and I also get to catch up with my family, who are as supportive and patient as you can imagine. All I need to do now is wait for the feeling that I'm about to deliver bad news to a crowd of people armed with bricks and bottles to dissipate. I don't think I've said anything especially new here but I'm fairly sure there will be a lot of people out there who feel this way around this time of year. So whatever you're doing, I hope you stay alive, stay safe and get through this weird thing we call Christmas.

This isn't exactly a laugh a minute.

I already hate doing this blog and it's been less than year. It's not just the sense of obligation or the draining process of recalling how I've actually been feeling over the past few weeks, it's the world of depression based writing that makes me so reluctant to do this on a regular basis. The internet is now awash with good news stories, tips and saccharine sweet quotes, dripping in the same kind of relentless, inflexible positivity that defines totalitarian propaganda. It is possible to recover from this, I'm fairly certain. Unfortunately, the complexities of this illness vary from person to person and if CBT or medication can't fix you quickly, finding in depth, ongoing medical treatment that doesn't cost more than somebody who relies on sporadic work and badly managed benefits can afford is a painfully slow process.

 After almost two years on a waiting list, several temporary jobs I was forced to take in order to survive and a couple of house moves, I still don't feel any better. The worst part is, I've started to accept this is just how I feel. If I have a difficult day at work, which is pretty much whenever I go to work, I need to go bed at about 9pm to try and recover. The panic I feel before leaving the house is exhausting and the instability of my working life makes that worse. Having completed an internship and a few months as a freelance content writer, I've had a taste of the kind of work I enjoy and I intend to pursue it until I'm making a decent living from writing in one capacity or another. In the mean time, I am registered with several different temp agencies and signing on to get universal credit, though I'm yet to actually see any money. I'd like to wake up every morning with some kind of powerful slogan in my head and the drive and focus to behave like they do in advert land, but life isn't like that, not in reality.

At 35, I've had professional jobs, long term relationships, experienced the death of close friends and family as well as the crippling and life defining illness that is depression mixed with anxiety. As much as I want to agree with all of the articles that urge me not to let depression define who I am, the reality I exist in means that I don't have a choice. Some days I feel so miserable, tired and lethargic that I can't work. There's no pattern and often no catalyst, but every now and then, I can't function. It's that simple. I'd like to make a guarantees to employers but I can't. I want to work and ideally work in a full time, professional role, but my health means I can't guarantee I'll be well enough to work all the time. What happens if I feel so ill I can't come to work more than four or fives times in a couple of months? That looks bad. Sick days run out, holidays are declined and those ominous "one to one" meetings with a line manager start to happen. Their hands are tied, its company policy, ill people aren't cost effective.

I need in depth psychological therapy provided by a highly qualified professional due to the nature of my condition. I surmised this through years of private therapy which I can no longer afford as well as fairly extensive research. I know what I need to do and it's difficult, complicated and painful but I believe it will ultimately grant me the depth of understanding needed to start overcoming this once and for all. Until that point, I need to survive through a combination of good will from friends and family, medication and self help groups that I am technically not allowed to attend while on a waiting list as they are still classed as "therapeutic intervention."  (Yes, this is true. After a recent visit to a mindfulness workshop, followed by a concerned phonecall from the practitioner, I was told my scores from the survey indicated severe depression but as I was already on a waiting list to see a psychologist, I was prohibited from engaging in other treatment options.) I have very little fight left, to be honest. I want to imagine my life getting better, but while I lack the energy and the emotional stability to cope with every day life, I just can't picture it. Reading articles about running, eating fruit and vegetables or meditating can be helpful and I try to do all of these things. Unfortunately, their effect is limited. Like taking a paracetamol for a massive gaping head wound. It takes the edge off, but you still get the feeling something's not quite right, if you know what I mean.

I'll keep applying for jobs, I'll keep asking the doctor when I'll be seen by a psychologist and I'll keep taking the SSRIs that make everything feel neutral. I have literally no idea what I'm supposed to do next. Sorry for being a downer, but this is the reality of living with depression and no amount of cupcakes, romantic comedies or jogging will fix it.