recovery

Are you feeling sad about the election?

The exit polls turned out to be right. And whilst Conservative and Scottish Nationalist supporters are ebullient, I’ve lost count of the number of people who have remarked on social media that they feel really depressed.

For the majority saying this, the feeling they are experiencing isn’t depression in any clinical sense. It is disappointment, sadness and loss. It is a normal grief reaction to something shocking and unexpected, which dashes hopes for the future. And it re-introduces and even expands fears that people who were hoping for a better result for Labour, the Lib Dems, the Greens and even UKIP had overcome, albeit just for a short while.

The five stages of grief model described by Dr Elizabeth Kubler-Ross was not intended to be prescriptive. It was an extremely well-received description of how people who are terminally ill get used to the idea of their own impending death. The stages of grief described are Shock, Denial, Bargaining, Anger, and Depression, better described perhaps as deep sadness. This, in time, leads to Accommodation/Acceptance. Depending on the nature of one’s loss, grief has to run its course. It is possible to get stuck at any stage, and for stages to have to be repeated. Trying to avoid the anger or sadness phases by keeping busy and pretending to be OK can be psychologically damaging; I have form on this myself.

There will be people today who will undoubtedly be at the start of a significant grief cycle, including the 3 party leaders who have resigned, those who have lost their livelihoods, and those closest to them. For the majority of the population, though, the cycle will pass quite quickly.

Some people are already into the angry phase; this is can be when blame gets sprayed about and bad decisions made. It is a time when we are advised not to make big decisions.

It is also important not to get stuck at the anger phase. Those who have learned to attribute responsibility for bad things that happen to them to others can waste huge amounts of energy re-traumatising themselves and failing to realise their own power to effect positive change.

Some people who experience mental illness get annoyed about the misuse of the term depression to describe feelings they see as relatively trivial compared to the self-hatred and hopelessness of clinical depression. I used to be one of them, but these days I am less fussed. As long as people understand that one word can have many meanings, I am more than happy to share it.  But I do want everyone to understand that there are no such things as happy-pills. If you aren’t clinically depressed, anti-depressants won’t make things better. Only you can do that, by getting to know yourself, and being kind and compassionate to yourself and to others.

It is tough advice, but as Maya Angelou said:

If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. 

The brilliant thing about our democratic system, apart of course from actually having one, is that MPs may only be elected by some of their constituents. But they are there to represent all of them. Occasionally they just need reminding.

I’m consoling myself about the the loss of the rainbow coalition I fondly imagined by thinking how to keep mental health on the agenda of the Conservative government, as they promised us during their election campaign. We have to make the business argument that investment in mental health treatment and support saves money in the long run. As well as the compassionate one about saving lives and making those lives worth living.

It is wonderful that there are millions of us who care enough to do the same.

 

 

 

What I have learned through recovery

An episode of clinical depression isn’t sadness. For me, it starts with brittleness and a growing sense of doom. I stop sleeping and become increasingly irrational and irritable. Beyond a certain point, I am unable to ignore or control it. Eventually, something snaps. I am smothered by a suffocating blanket of nothingness. The only feelings to permeate are deep guilt and self-loathing. All perspective is gone; I ruminate endlessly over things I have messed up and those I have hurt. I am frozen, unable to speak, or crying. The tears do not soothe. I detest myself.

Luckily I don’t feel like this all the time. Having been on my latest road to recovery for the best part of a year, I have learned a few things about looking after myself that I want to share.

  1. Choose to be all of me: having learned that it is so much better to be open about my experiences of mental illness, I now have to work hard at not allowing depression to become my defining characteristic. It is just one thing about me.

  2. Expect less: if someone likes something I have done, that’s lovely. But I need not feel disappointed if they don’t.

  3. Mindfulness: live in the world and be in the moment. Enjoy the little things – rinsing a cup, the warmth of the cat’s fur. Stop rushing.

  4. Going out: notice how exercise in the fresh air, even in wind and rain, makes me feel strong and alive. Embrace it and do more.

  5. Stop ruminating: I’ve wasted a lot of time going over and over things. It is important to learn lessons when something goes wrong – CBT has taught me to face the difficult stuff with less fear. But knowing when it is time to move on is a skill that needs frequent practice.

  6. Choose to forgive: This goes with number 5, and I like to think I am better at it than I was. Again, I have to practise every day.

  7. Create order from chaos: people think I’m tidy, but the more distracted I am, the messier I get. I have learned that, on a day when I am feeling low or anxious, I need to create order. Write a list, tidy a shelf, weed a flowerbed – completing a small task that brings order is soothing.

  8. Buy less stuff: I thought I loved shopping, but it made me feel guilty to spend money I couldn’t afford or could have given to someone more in need. Now I try to buy less. Except fresh vegetables.

  9. Make do: this goes with 8. I gain increasing satisfaction from mending things, making something from something else, or giving something of mine to someone who can make good use of it.

  10. Treating myself: on bad days, addictive substances such as alcohol, caffeine and chocolate can seem like treats. It takes some of us a lifetime to learn that they aren’t. A soak in the bath, a walk by the sea or some quiet contemplation in a sacred space can feed the soul rather than flooding the brain with dopamine.

  11. Competition: for me, best avoided, except with myself when trying to improve personal performance.

  12. Listen hard: I used to miss so much or misunderstand because I was too busy interpreting what people were saying and working out what response I should give. I am learning the value of listening really carefully. It is amazing what you hear when you listen properly.

  13. Don’t shy away from things that feel difficult or scary: it takes huge courage even to leave the house when you are in the early stages of recovery from depression. Standing up in front of 200 people in my first week back at work, I wanted to die. But I am so proud that I did it. I have found that, as I get better, I thrive from the boost to my endorphins that comes from feeling fearful yet excited about a new challenge, preparing carefully and managing my nerves so that I do a good job. I feel very lucky that in my new world, there are plenty of opportunities.

  14. Stop pretending: when someone asked me how I was, I used truly to believe it was a dereliction of duty to say I was anything other than great. I have learned to tell the truth about how I am – some days I am good, and some just OK. And when I am not OK, I am better at saying this too.

  15. Choose kindness: people have often said of me that I am kind and generous. This came at a cost. I have learned that to be truly and effortlessly kind, one must start with oneself. The love I feel for other people and the kindness that flows from me towards them has multiplied as I have let go of negative feelings towards myself. I am far from perfect and still have many faults, but I am worthy of love. This helps me to help others more than I ever could before.

These are just my thoughts; if they help someone else, that’s great. But please, don’t shout at me if you disagree. We are all different. And that’s what makes us so amazing xxx