Tangled up in Blue
Certified Senior Citizen⭐🦐
Greg,
Fair play to you for seeking ways and means of addressing your depression via this forum. By a strange coincidence, I've only written about my own experience of depression today with a view to contributing to "a new booklet designed to improve public awareness and tackle the stigma often associated with (mental) illness." Maybe it might be of some interest and with hope, some help too. The single most helpful thing someone said to at the time was "it may not feel like it at the moment, but it will get better."
I saw the article about how 'Stories will help address stigma' (West Briton, 06.01.11) in respect of mental health issues and have written one of my own below. Please feel free to use it if you like. I've called it 'One Of These Days' ...
My story begins in the summer of 1994, a few months after I had moved to Cornwall. Though I had been very much looking forward to being here for several months, I was unprepared for the changes in my life that I experienced which led me to having an episode of depression. I had recognised tendencies of this nature in myself over the years as I had previous experience as a psychiatric nurse and also worked for a Mental Health Centre in central London. I will return to this subject soon, but by way of coincidence or serendipity, it was this work which had first brought me to Cornwall a few years earlier when I helped to organise a week-long walk on the South-West Cornwall coast-path with service-users of this Centre, culminating in our reaching the end of our journey at Land’s End. In short, I fell in love with West Cornwall’s rugged coastline and felt a sense of freedom and calm here that was a world away from the rush and bustle of London life. When I came back on holiday in the summer of ’93, I resolved to move here as it gradually dawned on me that I felt (cue mystic mirth) “spiritually at home.”
It took several months to obtain work here and it was only when I decided to give notice to my employers in London that a temporary job soon became available. In truth, it was not work which I was really cut out for but “a job’s a job” and it felt like I’d landed on my feet having taken a risk in leaving without having any work to go to. But being in Cornwall had become the most important focus for me then as my partner at the time was already here and I was exhausted travelling down every week-end, after a week at work, to be with her. It had also seemed to me that I would stand more chance of getting a job through actually being here already rather than applying from ‘up country.’ I had become a firm believer in my adage that “it’s not who you know, it’s who you’re known by” as the way into Social Work in Cornwall at that time. I had only recently qualified as a Social Worker then and I had no experience in Child Protection work. I wasn’t a parent and I felt hopelessly out of my depth. Still, I told myself that “a job’s a job” and I could learn as I go along. The people I worked with were great – they were all very helpful and seemed to have confidence in me. Unfortunately, I had no confidence in myself and my self-doubt and anxiety ate away at me until I had no energy to fight it anymore.
It was a great relief initially to be able to step off that conveyor belt of anxiety which had reduced me to sleepless nights, inability to hear what people were saying to me due to my mind ‘being on overload’ and a fear of facing the next day at work due to having to play out a role in which I felt an absolute fraud. Who needs the support of a so-called Social Worker in Children’s Services who doesn’t know what he’s doing and doesn’t even have any children himself? The really difficult part though was in trying to adjust to the negative self-image I had and general feelings of worthlessness that arose from this sense of absolute failure. This had a knock-on effect where every activity seemed futile and demanding too much effort to the point where I had difficulty getting up in the mornings. Even when I did get up, I would stare blankly into the wardrobe as I couldn’t even make a decision about what clothes to face the day in. You’ll remember I said earlier that I had experience of being a psychiatric nurse. Although this helped me to recognise these negative feelings and ‘psychomotor retardation’ as being classic symptoms of depression, that didn’t actually help me to deal with it. However, a breakthrough seemed to come when I was at my lowest ebb.
I received a cassette tape in the post from one of my best friends ‘up country.’ He knew that I was struggling with my situation and the letter he sent urged me to summon up “that old ‘never say die’ determination” which he associated with me, particularly from our days of playing football together. It was a great fillip and was a reminder of what I’d lost with the move here – the support of close friends that can take years to establish. I put the tape on in the car and the first track I heard was by Neil Young entitled ‘One Of These Days.’ I hadn’t heard the song before and as I listened to the lyrics, I felt a surge of emotion welling up in me. I had to pull over to a recycling compound just outside town before I burst into a lengthy bout of uncontrolled sobbing. If you don’t know the song, it has a plaintive but inspirational feel to it. The opening line talks of how “one of these days, I’m going to sit down and write a long letter to all the good friends I’ve known” and goes on to say how “I’m going to try to thank them all for the good times together though so apart we’ve grown.” That was the first recognition of loss that had hit me smack between the ears.
It took attending an ‘Anxiety Management Support Group’ and the gradual acceptance of other unresolved losses in my life – most particularly of my parents, especially my father who died when I was very young – to help me to rediscover that spirit my friend had spoken of. As I listen to Neil Young again whilst writing this, it reminds me that issues from the past can come back to haunt us when we are not coping so well in the present. There is a particular line in ‘One Of These Days’ that rings true for me to this day - “I never tried to burn any bridges though I know I let some good things go” – and this inspired me to re-connect with many of the good people I’ve known in my life. I sent my oldest friend (who I had lost contact with several years before) a cassette of old tracks that I knew he’d remember from our youth and it ended up inspiring us to write a ‘pop novel’ about a DJ who tells stories about music to help him to come to terms with his unresolved mental health issues. It was only in the joint writing of this novel (‘FM247: This Is Radio Binfield!’*) that I discovered that my friend had a similar experience himself.
Attending the group also helped me to put my own experiences in perspective and reminded me that I was not alone in having to fight the ‘dark cloud of depression’ whilst giving me a few tips for how to tackle the ‘automatic negative thoughts’ I had succumbed to. Writing about how the music can help people connect with their emotions has been an enjoyable distraction from Social Work in recent years and even more recently, has helped me to connect with kindred spirits via sharing the stories on various social networking sites on the internet. I hope to make such fiction become a reality one of these days by doing a DJ stint or two of my own on a local radio station. Make sure you’ve got your hanky ready though for when I do!
*http://www.amazon.co.uk/FM247-Radio-Binfield-Rob-Spooner/dp/1409283402/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_4
Obviously, I've been somewhat opportunistic in plugging the book again somewhat shamelessly, but that experience of depression did inform it. What also helped was not giving myself such a hard time about things, setting realistic targets and giving up on 'perfectionism' as well as viewing things differently - I'm sure you know the 'glass half full/empty' perspectives. Remember, it ain't half as bad as you think it is at the moment.
All good ones, Rob :thumbsup:
An honest account.Don't think the book's much cop though.:winking:
