My name is Simon, I’m 44 and I’m not well.

My name is Simon, I’m 44, and I’m not well.

By that I mean I have been diagnosed with PTSD, depression and anxiety.

In 2018 I was initially diagnosed with PTSD as a result of my role within the emergency services in London, but I was adamant that I didn’t want to be medicated. I was determined that with therapy and by looking after myself properly, eating right, exercising, cutting my alcohol consumption, that I could deal with this, and for a while that was enough, but slowly things started to unravel.

I started to feel less and less capable of coping, I hadn’t slept properly for more than four hours in about a year, continuing to push myself at work, but finally my body and mind had had enough.

The actor Jim Carey puts it best for me, “it’s not about being depressed, it’s your body needing Deep Rest”, (I am slightly paraphrasing JC here).

I mean, I was depressed, I didn’t want to go on, I spent a lot of time crying, but I was also in need of some deep rest.

At the beginning of March 2019 I finally reached breaking point. I was unable to cope with anything and I was barely looking after myself. I went to my doctors and just broke down.

My GP, an amazing lady by the name of Dr Findley, prescribed me Mirtazapine and that first night I slept straight for 12 hours.

For the first few weeks I felt like I was walking around with an invisible duvet over me, dulling sight and sound and weighing me down.

Slowly my body got used to my medication and I began to be able to function better.

It took me six months to get to a place where I could consider going back to work, I took the time I needed, (along with some great therapy on the NHS, Dr La Roux you rock!), but eventually I was ready to go back to work.

I have now been back at work as long as I was off, I’ve had a few ups and downs, but I’m slowly starting to put me first, or at least trying to.

Am I the same man, yes and very much no.

I’m more self aware, thoughtful, less angry, I don’t always get it right, but I think I am better at realising when I am wrong and looking to learn from it.

Why am I starting to write again? you know what, I’m not completely sure.

I’m just a normal human being that has had to deal with a whole heap of rubbish. I’m not special, I’m not unique, I’m not a so called celeb trying to share their tortured story of redemption, I’m just someone who is going to try and share the details of his story, not with a view of saying “This is what you must do” , because everyone is different, but in the hope that if you are where I was or where I am it will help to show you’re not alone and that slowly but surely it will get better.

The following links are available should you feel in crisis (this list is not exhaustive but maybe somewhere to start) – remember, you’re not alone.

Samaritans – https://www.samaritans.org

Mind – https://www.mind.org.uk/

Papyrus – ttps://papyrus-uk.org

CALM – https://www.thecalmzone.net

GUILT. And how it messes with my head.

Last week I talked about suicide and how it has touched my life and how I have even contemplated it.

This week I want to talk about guilt and how it’s one of the biggest things that currently undermines my mental health.

We all have things that we feel guilty about.

Eating too much ice cream, having that extra drink after work, not keeping in touch with family and friends.

Mostly it’s fleeting and with a quick phone call or bit of extra exercise we can eradicate those feelings.

When you’re mentally unwell these things can spiral out of control until they are bigger than Everest and even harder to conquer.

I carry so much guilt I should probably be Catholic.

I feel guilty about the break up of my marriage; that I should have seen the signs, that I should have fought harder, that I shouldn’t have moved out.

I feel guilty about the death of my Dad; I should have seen him more, I should have called more often, I shouldn’t have gone to bed so early when they left for their holiday and missed the opportunity to speak to him.

I feel guilty about my PTSD; I shouldn’t have taken on so much to try and protect others, I shouldn’t have been so weak, I should have asked for help, I shouldn’t have given in and walked away from my team and unfinished work.

Whilst you may read all these and think that they are all silly things, (and in my moments of lucidity you would be right), these are all things that give me nightmares and that cause me pain, anxiety and depression.

I can rationalise all of the above;

I couldn’t help that my wife fell out of love with me, I couldn’t prevent my Dad dying suddenly, I did what I thought was right at work and couldn’t have foreseen it would make me so ill.

But, being mentally unwell means that normal cognitive function doesn’t work correctly and the smallest of problems or challenges can grow and become insurmountable, can cause extreme stresses, induce anxiety attacks and make depressive episodes worse.

It’s often said that the worse thing you can say to someone with depression is to “pull yourself together”. A lot of the time they are “together” it’s just in the eye of the storm they cannot rationalise things out and this can manifest in many ways: tears, aggressive outbursts, withdrawal, lethargy, to name just a few.

For me my guilt often manifests in most of these ways.

If I am in a guilt spiral I will probably not have slept very well having spent most of the night ruminating on the “what ifs”, I will be be catastrophising and be expecting terrible things to happen to me or others because of something I did or didn’t do.

All of this then exacerbates any depression and anxiety I may have and the cycle just continues.

Throw into all of that the flashbacks I get from my PTSD and you have one screwed up brain.

Learning to understand that only I can control how I feel, (I talked about the locus of control before), and that other people don’t control me, that at best or worst, they only influence me, is difficult, but key to my getting better.

Another huge element is joining the heart and the head, not allowing one or the other to be too strongly in control, but to allow a more symbiotic relationship to flourish, (I KNOW that my Dad dying wasn’t my fault, but I FEEL guilty about not being there), these are some of my hardest lessons to learn.

I know that this won’t be an easy journey, nor will it be a quick fix.

But.

I want to get better and that’s an important thing.

I want to find me.

I want to return to my version of normality.

To be continued….