Hey folks,
Normally I try to keep things optimistic or I reflect upon current events and outline some things we could do to help influence the world that we live on. Today however I am going to reflect upon my past and discuss a big old regret of mine.
If you are going to regret anything at least let it be a regret that you can learn from, something that will help you take future challenges in your stride and handle situations in a more humane way. Basically I regret refusing to acknowledge something and that refusal undoubtedly made life a pain in the ass for everyone around me.
Today I am talking about mental heath. At university I hired a personal tutor because I was undergoing some therapy and I was confronting things that brought up a mixture of emotions. The personal tutor that I hired is a really great guy filled with a lot of compassion. He informed me though, during one of our sessions that the way in which I view the world and how I act is a cause for concern and as a friend he warned me that he felt I had depression. Like any sane rational being I quickly spat acid, cut him out of my circle and I acted like an even more arrogant dick.
The thing with depression or any mental illness, is that you can't wish it away or simply "man up" about it. The illness can be the result of either your past or your attempt at processing/handling the world around you. I had spent most of my life avoiding situations where I would have to talk to someone about my emotions. This is why therapy had done a number on my mind because everything that I had kept locked up was now running around my mind like a monster that sprung out of the closet. I thought if I simply pushed those emotions aside I could easily get on with things. Pushing emotions to the side though usually requires a lot of drugs or an overriding emotion that dominates the rest.
I told myself I could not have depression, that is something that people get when give up. Depression is obviously a thing that cry babies get. I have risen from nothing what the hell am I depressed about?
So my friend's attempt to help me, I saw as his way of calling me weak...and as an arrogant prideful young adult male I reacted in a most callous way. One day I will muster up the courage to see him and apologise. I was able to get a 2:1 thanks to his help. Thing is I am not so forgiving and how do I work up the courage to ask for an apology when I would not even give myself one in such an instance?
Many years later my doctor would explain to me that depression is more than simply feeling sad and the self-loathing and anger I felt (combined with a few other markers). The big clue for me that something was not right (apart from going through hell in China and finding unemployment really hard) was when I had been asked to move an old broken T.V. Moving something that is broken is easy enough but ths T.V was massive. I dropped the object on my foot...I grabbed something and just went mad. I repeatedly smashed the T.V until I was out of breath. I was in my front garden, holding some metal pole, looking down on the T.V breathing heavily just like Ed from Shaun of the Dead after he killed that Zombie.
It was just a T.V. But I wasn't thinking about the T.V when I smashed it, I was angry at being some unemployed guy that had done a great deal of things and still I was back at home, in England, with no job and no money and indistinguishable prospects. I felt as if I was broken too and then I remembered back those few years ago when my tutor warned me of my depression. "Oh crap", I thought.
We have already established what the doctor said and they did put me on some magical drug called Citalopram. I know someone people cannot stand the drug(s) but in my case they helped. I had no desire to talk to others as the way I talk makes me feel like crap and I know it makes others feel like crap when I start letting my emotions out. The Citalopram did something that talking could not do, it helped me focus. I was able to see beyond my emotions for the first time and I developed a strange mental bubble where all negative interaction would bounce off. I did not realise at the time but the Citalopram was getting me quite high.
My sleeping pattern became more stable, I was eating healthily and most importantly I did not hate myself. Either happiness is a high to me or getting off my head helped me become more grounded. Before seeing the doctor and accepting that I had depression I had found it borderline impossible to show affection towards those I loved or liked because of my self-loathing. I knew that I loved my family but I could not show it. It is really hard to explain but it means I spent years pushing those that tried to help me, away from me. The drug only worked because I did not like being angry and I wanted a way out of that cycle. After a few months I found myself employed and I felt "too happy". I was beginning to feel manic. I saw another doctor and she agreed that my new outlook and circumstances meant I was able to lower the dosage. We discussed how I would come off of the drug and things felt great. I gradually felt less over-energised and I felt a pace returning.
Without the constant high though I felt all of my emotions creeping back to me. Mostly sadness and regret for spending so many years being a bastard to everyone when free help was available if I had simply shed my arrogance and asked for help then the lives of others in my own life would have undoubtedly been better.
From this chunk of my life I was able to learn depression is more than experiencing despair or feeling sad. It is a really invasive illness that weaves itself into your being. Mine was brought about by refusing to look into the mirror and accept that there are things that made me feel sad, I simply drove myself forward, never looking back and when you find yourself unemployed, essentially stuck then you can't help but glimpse back. I guess unemployment helped me as well because it put me in contact with a really good old friend and he nudged me to get myself looked at. If I found myself a job the second I returned to Blighty I would have continued to live my little lie of "everything is o.k".
I just wish I took mental health seriously a lot sooner. I cannot dwell on this regret though because the past cannot be changed and I would gain nothing by simply feeling sad. A part of me wants to flee the country, start a new life elsewhere and hope to forget that this never happened but to do so would be to repeat the same mistake. Another chunk wishes I could tell my past self to get some serious help and that is why I have written this blog so all those reading this that might have a problem get out there and get the help that they require. The NHS is free and it will not affect your job prospects. I secured a job whilst on the medication ^__^.
The final part of me is just thankful that I had people close by that stuck with me no matter how twisted and abhorrent I was. I have no idea how I can make it up to them so right now I am just gathering all the money I can and being damn thrifty. With money I can make other people's problems vanish and that helps me sleep easier at night. I have a bed(ish), a decent job, a loving family and I want to see my family succeed. My head is finally screwed on, personally I feel a bit bloody late in the day...better late than never.
This was The Common Sense Eccentric.
Cheers for reading,
I wonder who reads this?
Apparently a lot of people do 0_o
Thank you ^_^
P.S People warn me about putting up stuff like this but growing up I did not have a male role model and that can really mess with a guy in a culture like ours. I just hope my words help others that are trying to make some sense of the world around them. I do not mean to sound preachy but I am compensating for that which I lacked. My mother is amazing and I would not give her up for anything in the world but father figures have their own role too and I think the lack of one caused me to hate society whilst growing up.
Normally I try to keep things optimistic or I reflect upon current events and outline some things we could do to help influence the world that we live on. Today however I am going to reflect upon my past and discuss a big old regret of mine.
If you are going to regret anything at least let it be a regret that you can learn from, something that will help you take future challenges in your stride and handle situations in a more humane way. Basically I regret refusing to acknowledge something and that refusal undoubtedly made life a pain in the ass for everyone around me.
Today I am talking about mental heath. At university I hired a personal tutor because I was undergoing some therapy and I was confronting things that brought up a mixture of emotions. The personal tutor that I hired is a really great guy filled with a lot of compassion. He informed me though, during one of our sessions that the way in which I view the world and how I act is a cause for concern and as a friend he warned me that he felt I had depression. Like any sane rational being I quickly spat acid, cut him out of my circle and I acted like an even more arrogant dick.
The thing with depression or any mental illness, is that you can't wish it away or simply "man up" about it. The illness can be the result of either your past or your attempt at processing/handling the world around you. I had spent most of my life avoiding situations where I would have to talk to someone about my emotions. This is why therapy had done a number on my mind because everything that I had kept locked up was now running around my mind like a monster that sprung out of the closet. I thought if I simply pushed those emotions aside I could easily get on with things. Pushing emotions to the side though usually requires a lot of drugs or an overriding emotion that dominates the rest.
I told myself I could not have depression, that is something that people get when give up. Depression is obviously a thing that cry babies get. I have risen from nothing what the hell am I depressed about?
So my friend's attempt to help me, I saw as his way of calling me weak...and as an arrogant prideful young adult male I reacted in a most callous way. One day I will muster up the courage to see him and apologise. I was able to get a 2:1 thanks to his help. Thing is I am not so forgiving and how do I work up the courage to ask for an apology when I would not even give myself one in such an instance?
Many years later my doctor would explain to me that depression is more than simply feeling sad and the self-loathing and anger I felt (combined with a few other markers). The big clue for me that something was not right (apart from going through hell in China and finding unemployment really hard) was when I had been asked to move an old broken T.V. Moving something that is broken is easy enough but ths T.V was massive. I dropped the object on my foot...I grabbed something and just went mad. I repeatedly smashed the T.V until I was out of breath. I was in my front garden, holding some metal pole, looking down on the T.V breathing heavily just like Ed from Shaun of the Dead after he killed that Zombie.
It was just a T.V. But I wasn't thinking about the T.V when I smashed it, I was angry at being some unemployed guy that had done a great deal of things and still I was back at home, in England, with no job and no money and indistinguishable prospects. I felt as if I was broken too and then I remembered back those few years ago when my tutor warned me of my depression. "Oh crap", I thought.
We have already established what the doctor said and they did put me on some magical drug called Citalopram. I know someone people cannot stand the drug(s) but in my case they helped. I had no desire to talk to others as the way I talk makes me feel like crap and I know it makes others feel like crap when I start letting my emotions out. The Citalopram did something that talking could not do, it helped me focus. I was able to see beyond my emotions for the first time and I developed a strange mental bubble where all negative interaction would bounce off. I did not realise at the time but the Citalopram was getting me quite high.
My sleeping pattern became more stable, I was eating healthily and most importantly I did not hate myself. Either happiness is a high to me or getting off my head helped me become more grounded. Before seeing the doctor and accepting that I had depression I had found it borderline impossible to show affection towards those I loved or liked because of my self-loathing. I knew that I loved my family but I could not show it. It is really hard to explain but it means I spent years pushing those that tried to help me, away from me. The drug only worked because I did not like being angry and I wanted a way out of that cycle. After a few months I found myself employed and I felt "too happy". I was beginning to feel manic. I saw another doctor and she agreed that my new outlook and circumstances meant I was able to lower the dosage. We discussed how I would come off of the drug and things felt great. I gradually felt less over-energised and I felt a pace returning.
Without the constant high though I felt all of my emotions creeping back to me. Mostly sadness and regret for spending so many years being a bastard to everyone when free help was available if I had simply shed my arrogance and asked for help then the lives of others in my own life would have undoubtedly been better.
From this chunk of my life I was able to learn depression is more than experiencing despair or feeling sad. It is a really invasive illness that weaves itself into your being. Mine was brought about by refusing to look into the mirror and accept that there are things that made me feel sad, I simply drove myself forward, never looking back and when you find yourself unemployed, essentially stuck then you can't help but glimpse back. I guess unemployment helped me as well because it put me in contact with a really good old friend and he nudged me to get myself looked at. If I found myself a job the second I returned to Blighty I would have continued to live my little lie of "everything is o.k".
I just wish I took mental health seriously a lot sooner. I cannot dwell on this regret though because the past cannot be changed and I would gain nothing by simply feeling sad. A part of me wants to flee the country, start a new life elsewhere and hope to forget that this never happened but to do so would be to repeat the same mistake. Another chunk wishes I could tell my past self to get some serious help and that is why I have written this blog so all those reading this that might have a problem get out there and get the help that they require. The NHS is free and it will not affect your job prospects. I secured a job whilst on the medication ^__^.
The final part of me is just thankful that I had people close by that stuck with me no matter how twisted and abhorrent I was. I have no idea how I can make it up to them so right now I am just gathering all the money I can and being damn thrifty. With money I can make other people's problems vanish and that helps me sleep easier at night. I have a bed(ish), a decent job, a loving family and I want to see my family succeed. My head is finally screwed on, personally I feel a bit bloody late in the day...better late than never.
This was The Common Sense Eccentric.
Cheers for reading,
I wonder who reads this?
Apparently a lot of people do 0_o
Thank you ^_^
P.S People warn me about putting up stuff like this but growing up I did not have a male role model and that can really mess with a guy in a culture like ours. I just hope my words help others that are trying to make some sense of the world around them. I do not mean to sound preachy but I am compensating for that which I lacked. My mother is amazing and I would not give her up for anything in the world but father figures have their own role too and I think the lack of one caused me to hate society whilst growing up.
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