Living with Mental Health | Depression and Friendship

I was diagnosed with depression in October of last year. In reality, it had most likely been going on for most of my teenage years but the summer after my first year of university was where things got bad enough that I couldn’t cope. My friends quite literally ordered me to go to the doctors – with one memorable threat that I’d be picked up and dragged there if I kept putting it off – as the changes in me managed to destroy my relationship with my then-boyfriend and were clearly visible to the people around me. In fact, that’s what this testimonial is about, really: my friends. Yes, anti-depressants and visits to the Open Door team helped me, but my friends have been the driving force behind my recovery so far.    There was one piece of advice I received shortly after diagnosis that has helped me more than anything: don’t let it be a secret. So many people see mental health issues as taboo, and keep them quiet, but if the people closest to don’t know what you’re dealing with, they can’t help you when you need them or cut you some slack when you’re at your worst.

Last year I was, to be perfectly blunt, a fairly rubbish friend. I missed birthdays and skipped meet-ups, and when I did show up, I spent most of the time sat in a corner feeling awful or trying to pretend everything was ok when I wanted to be back in bed ignoring the world. I was much the same with lectures – attending a 9.15 was a rarity, and workshops and tutorials pretty much ceased to even exist to me. But despite all this, my friends never once refused me notes to copy up or help with work and the invites to events kept coming. I honestly expected them to turn their backs on me, not through malice but just because being friends with me must have been akin to being friends with a brick wall or a goldfish.

I will forever be indebted to my best friend and housemate, who managed to curb the worst of my thoroughly self-destructive habits. I never self-harmed, but my sleep and eating habits became more messed up than I thought possible: some days I ate near-constantly, as if I was hoping to counter the deep, gnawing pain I felt with copious amounts of food. Other days, I would look at the clock and realize it was nine or ten o’clock at night, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day and I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. She kept me from eating only chocolate, reminded me – and occasionally outright ordered me – to eat something, and is probably the main reason I didn’t end up with severe nutritional issues, as I sometimes went days without wanting to eat. She also offered an ear, a shoulder and a hug whenever I needed it, and let me ramble on about what was going on inside my messed up little head without judging.

There are a few more people (who will probably know exactly who they are, if they happen to read this) who I will probably never be able to repay for their friendship. I have one friend who was pretty much the only person to get real smile out of me. Another who must have given me a few hundred hugs in the past two years. Yet another who would tell me outright if I wasn’t telling them the things they could actually help with and then give me solutions to the problems he could. These and others are the people who have kept me going, and the people that I could not have gotten through the last two years without.

To anyone reading this who is suffering: tell your friends. Don’t beat around the bush and hope they guess. Sit them down, and tell them you’ve been diagnosed with depression and exactly what that means. Let them know that if you don’t see them as much it’s not because you don’t want to, it’s because you can’t face the world today.

To my friends, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’m getting better now, but even if and when I’m fully recovered, I will NEVER stop owing you.

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Family, Friends and Depression

I think my experience of the way illness can affect your life started when I was thirteen. My mum got physically ill, and I started to feel increasingly alienated from her. I often felt that I was at fault in situations that, in reality, were outside of my control. Looking back, I understand that she was frightened and having to deal with a lot herself, but at the time it was very difficult to see that. Nevertheless, my relationship with my Dad was strong and, apart from the usual day to day stresses of being a teenager, things were generally fine.

But aged about sixteen my relationship with my dad started to deteriorate too. Sometimes I would make a comment or snap at him a little when things were tough. Things he would previously have tolerated, at worst. But instead of tolerating them he would ignore me, perhaps for a few hours, perhaps for longer, even when, at times, I would stubbornly continue to talk at him. He never shouted, just sort of withdrew instead. Again, it made me feel that I must be doing something wrong to deserve that sort of treatment: that I was a terrible person and an even worse daughter.

I'd always worked hard at school, but I became even more determined: determined to prove my worth to myself, my teachers and above all my parents. Exam results and making my parents proud became my God. But exam result after exam result failed to change the situation. I knew deep down that my parents loved me, but this only made me feel worse: here they were, feeding me, clothing me, and yes, loving me, and all I could do was make them angry, disappointed, cold and withdrawn. I was hurt and frustrated but I was sure I was at fault and didn't want to cause my parents any more anger and upset. Instead I often turned my anger inwards. I was filled with self-loathing, desperation and despair, and self harmed regularly.

I didn't tell anyone about it at the time, what reason would I have to do that? I was a disappointment, I was the one at fault and the only person that I could take out my pent up frustration on (and the only person I thought deserved to be hurt) was myself. It was simply my own logical decision. I didn't want anyone else to know, especially not my parents, who I thought would just be even more hurt and disappointed by my selfish attitude.The stigma attached to and lack of understanding that many people have for self harm can make it seem impossible to talk about. The thought of it often still fills me with tongue tying, heart racing panic. But I am blessed with close friends and over the past few years, with their help I've been coming to terms with this part of my life, gaining more of an understanding of why I acted in that way. I still self harm sometimes, but more often than not I don't.

This week is about Mental Health Awareness. I am yet to discuss my experience with a doctor. I feel safe talking to my good friends and I know that although they don't always understand, they still love and accept me; and they've been helping me to love and accept who I am too. My relationship with my parents is much improved and we're all healing in our different ways. So I'm not sure I'm really talking about me anymore.

Instead, where did this start? I think it started with the social stigma of depression. We just don't talk about it, do we? It's something bad, something that weak-minded, self-centred people (or perhaps usually strong people who are just going through an awful situation at the moment) suffer from, isn't it? Why don't they just get a grip, man up and muddle on with that oh-so-British stiff upper lip like the rest of us? But depression isn't like that; it isn't just about being a bit sad sometimes. Depression is an illness, just like anything you could suffer from physically. It's time we accept that. If society were more accepting, if people felt able to talk to each other, rather than hiding behind their forced smiles, then people like my dad might be able to speak up sooner.

For people who have friends or family suffering from mental health issues such as depression, I pray that they have shared what they're going through with you. I hope you understand that they don't hate you, they aren't ignoring you, but that sometimes that is the only way they feel able to deal with how they're feeling, particularly if they don't want to hurt you by shouting. It also really isn't your fault, no really, it isn't, just as it isn't their fault. After all, nobody is to blame when they are diagnosed with breast cancer, likewise with depression! So simply, I urge everyone who is reading this, whatever you're going through, to set aside your mask: be more open and willing to talk with people, laugh and cry with them and seek to truly understand what they are experiencing. No-one should feel like they have to suffer in silence. It's time to break free from the shame of depression and the damage that shame can cause.

God be with you,

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Depression

I became depressed in late 2011, when my family moved back to the country of my heart. But my gran says my voice hadn’t been right since mid 2008 when we moved back to the country of my birth. My voice came right again on the 25^th July 2012.

I never knew how much I relied on my family, and I never would have believed that the place you live could have such an effect on your mental state. I would have always told you that friends were important, but I would never have thought I could have neglected my friends so much.

My experience with depression… I thought I was ok, I was in denial for the best part of 6 months. But I cut myself off from the rest of the world. I obsessed over course work, it made it look like I was a model student, despite my less than perfect attendance at lectures. While inside everything was coming apart. I was self harming, I pulled my hair out and punched myself. I over analysed everything and worried constantly about my family who were living so very far away. I ate, far too much, and exercised far too little. I was very lucky for most of the time to have a gorgeous, loving boyfriend. But, sadly, about a year ago, he broke up with me. And my depression was cited as a reason for the break up. I was cut to the core. And I spent a terrible 3 hours alone, but surrounded by people on public transport. I don’t want you to judge him though. He also has his own cross to bear. He was there with me through my darkest hours. You may say if he truly was there for me he wouldn’t have dumped me. But I am grateful for the times when he held me up and enabled me to get through the day. It was after he dumped me that I started to scratch myself. My wrists and my ankles, my wrists because they were accessible, and annoy me anyway because of an old injury to them. My ankles, because I could hide what I was doing. It was my coping mechanism. I was, then, punishing myself for not being good enough to cope without my family, and for not being good enough for the man I loved.

I made the best decision possible, I started counselling, it took me several months after I had been diagnosed and started the meds (because despite the diagnosis, I didn’t want anything to be wrong with me, I really REALLY wanted to be ok). It helped me to see that I had managed to distort the world around me, which getting less than an A was ok, sure the injuries to my wrists suck, but at least I can still use them for every day life! I did cope without my family, and I was strong enough to try and protect them, succeeding for a very long time. And I was good enough for him, but things just didn’t work out.

The next big decision I made was to move back to the country of my heart and live near my family again. That was when my gran told me my voice belonged to me again.

And I’m back with my family, back in the country of my heart. Once I made the decision it took me a month. And the university I transferred to was only too happy to gain me as a student (not that I would blow my own trumpet, but I am a good student). I feel like my life has started again because I’m enjoying it. I have friends who I talk to almost every day when they can stand it, because I often act a little crazy.

Looking back, one thing really stands out, and that is the support I was given by my friends and family once I owned that I had a problem. The way, despite walling myself up, they welcomed me back and looked after me.

This week I had my last check up for a recent episode of anxiety, and I am very glad to say that I’ve been given a clean bill of mental health for the time being (and a flu jab, ouch!). I can see how far I have come, in just 12 months, despite my last little hiccup. I have lost 20 of the 28 kilos I put on due to comfort eating. My cooking skills have also excelled ;).  When I’m very stressed I have to admit that my fingers to immediately go to my hair, but I have some good friends who look out for me and will take me for a cup of tea if they notice I’m not coping too well (like if my experiments are going very pear shaped). I’m a lot happier, and my life sometimes surprising me at how interesting it ends up being. I’ve found gardening and sewing rather relaxing, and found that the small achievements I made in both have helped when I’ve been having a bad day.

Today its 2013 and I am a happy, strong, beautiful young woman. And I am helping someone else, a friend of my brothers, cope with her depression. What others think of me doesn’t matter because I am unique, a little bit mad maybe, but I’ve found people who appreciate and accept me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the support of some lovely friends, most of whom are a long haul flight away, but another who now only lives 20 minutes up the road, between me and university. She means the world to me, and I can never repay the debt I owe. Nor can I repay the debt to my other friends who loved me when I was entirely un-loveable. I’ve also created a strong support network with the new friends I have found.

If you know someone with a mental health problem all I can say is keep loving them. If their hurts were visible, they would probably be swaddled in bandages, they might be in hospital, but they are defying the odds. If you do have a mental health problem, remember what a beautiful person you are (inside as well as out). Tell someone if you are having a bad day, because they care and will want to help. And if you feel like staying in bed all day doing nothing, go ahead and do it! But the next day you need to get yourself up, I know its really hard. Celebrate every little achievement. There was a time when just getting up was an achievement for me. It was an achievement when I first managed to sleep all the way through the night for 8 hours. I spoilt myself with a new hair cut when I realised my hair was growing back out. And every time I find a new dress that fits, I dress myself up and believe the compliments people give me (which are a lot now I listen to them). Don’t forget that there are free call support numbers if you need someone to talk to but feel a friend or family member isn’t the right person. Anything you say is confidential. I know some people who volunteer for these services and I’ve used them. They are some of the most open minded, comforting people to talk to.

Remember: ‘We are all a little broken, and that’s ok’.

Also, did you know, blind people smile, despite never having seen one, it’s a natural human reaction. Its time for me to sign off though, my uni assignments are calling me... Thanks for reading this, I hope it has inspired you that you can get through and to help anyone you think may be struggling, sometimes a smile is all it takes. 

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Depression and the Dark Place

I was diagnosed with depression in November 2011, although looking back I think I had it a lot longer than I realised, but undoubtedly over the summer of 2011 my mental health drop significantly.

Prior to suffering with depression I thought self-harm was silly, I couldn’t understand why anyone ever would. But, now I know. When I was in a dark place, I felt consumed with pain I couldn’t express. My body would shake with tears, but they wouldn’t express the sorrow I felt within. But the physical pain, of feeling something, did. And so, I discovered, like so many others, an instant release of the hurt I felt within. Unfortunately, when I come to my sense, I feel ashamed of my weakness, my desire to hurt myself, and the spiral of pain drag me back down to a place where it was acceptable to damage myself.

When I became brave enough to talk about my feelings, and how dark, the dark place truly was, my friends would say that I could always ring them when I felt like that. And whilst I was grateful for their offer, when the dark times return I couldn’t bring myself to get in contact with them. I felt so ashamed, so weak, so unworthy of their love.

Only a few weeks ago I hit a dark place, and first time I called out for help. It was terrifying, and yet as my friend replied to my text, I felt calmer, I felt loved and slowly I felt at peace again. I didn’t self-harm. For me, it was a massive victory, not only had I conquered my fear of rejection that no one would answer my call for help, I’d also had a triumph against self-harm.

For friends of people who suffer from depression, I want this to encourage you. Don’t give up on us. I know what it is like to stand on the sidelines and watch people battle with depression. It sucks, but I also know that we’re incredibly grateful that you are standing there. Because when we feel strong enough to reach out for help, you’re already there offering a hand. To help me with my depression, I’ve taken anti-depressants, I had counselling but the best treatment I’ve had is friendship. With my friends I laugh, I cry, I talk about what hurts, I talk about the lies I believe, and my friends listen, they tell me things I ignore about myself but most importantly they let me be who I am. Together we live a life worth living; together we make memories worth keeping. 

Anonymous

A short thought on friendship

I've just started watching 'Mr Selfridge' admittedly a little later than everyone else, so I'm a tad behind. But, in the episode I watched today, the famous Antarctic explorer: Sir Ernest Shackleton visits the store, and Mr Selfridge's son, asks him what makes a good leader, to which he replies (after a large period of thought):

 "to bring my men in from the cold, each and every day."

Whilst I believe that it is a good definition for good leadership, could it not also be applied to friendship? Shackleton put the success of being the first person to reach the South Pole, below that of his men, ensuring that none of them died. But I wonder, how often do I priorities my own personal success above that of investing in my friendships? How often do I say a 'joke' at the cost of a friend? Or even worse, a snide comment meant to knock them down. Because, for the sake of the metaphor, every time I do that I leave them out in the cold. And how can that be described as friendship?

Christianity and Homosexuality.

The Church has a bad press about it's attitude towards homosexuality, and whilst I don't want this blog to discuss what the Bible says in regards to homosexuality, because everyone has different opinions, I want to draw the attention away from this widely debated topic, and onto other parts of scripture which are often ignored

The majority of times 'sexual immorality' is mentioned in the Bible, especially in the New Testament  it is listed in a list of 'sins.' Why? Because, a sin is a sin, there are not big sins or little sins. They all have an equal weighting to God, because we have turned away from him and his rule. And yet, the Church often portrays sexual sin, especially homosexuality, as a massive sin, when it's not. Therefore, as a sinner, how can I condemn someone else who sins? I can't. Because they could point out the places in my life where I sin. Whilst I believe being accountable to other Christians is important, mentally condemning others who I see 'sin worse than me' is wrong. Utterly wrong.

Why? Matthew says:

One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with his question: "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 

Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbour as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." 

Matthew 22:36-40

Because Jesus says that loving one another is the second most important thing, and how can I love someone if I always condemn them? I don't see that as love, through loving them I may talk about what I see as wrong in their life, but in all they do I should support them even if I believe they will be hurt in the end. 

Lets say, my non-christian friend dated a guy with girlfriend. I would say it was wrong, but I wouldn't stop being her friend, and I would always be there to listen to what they'd done and then support her if/when he hurt her. Why? Because she's my friend and I love her, just because what I see she is doing is wrong doesn't stop me loving her. 

In the same way, as Christians I feel we are called to love everyone, it Jesus loved the outcasts of society, and so we should also love everyone even if what we believe that the lifestyle they live is against that of the bible. Jesus spoke to prostitutes and tax collectors, his best friends were fishermen, and so, as Christians we should also reflect that love. We should love accountants and politicians, we should be-friend people for who they are rather than the labels that society gives people.

I don't know whether I want the bill for gay marriage to be passed, I can see pros and cons for each argument  but I know whatever happens I am called to love other people for that is what God has called me to do foremost. 

Living life as a Chameleon

Jackson: at the beginning

How often do you change who you are to fit the people you are with? It's so much easier, isn't it, to change your personality, just for a little while, to be cool, be liked, to be admired. And yet, we're not being true to ourselves. 

I'd like you to meet Jackson, and he's great at this. He moves into a new background and just changes to suit it, so much so if you look away, you can't recognise him, he's no longer what you expect him to be. 

Yes, you guessed it, Jackson was a chameleon we (briefly) had as a 'pet' in Uganda...until  we wandered off back into the bush. But, the point of this example remains the same, how often are we untrue to ourselves, our core beliefs just so we can fit in?

Jackson: just over 1 hour later (and a good few minutes of searching)

I know I'm prone to it. I tell myself that it's okay when someone jokes about my beliefs (I mean, they're only joking - right?) That I'm not hurt when someone insults my rather uncool interests, because, knitting doesn't really define me....

But, if I lie to others about the little things, get used to hiding the things I deem 'uncool' what is to stop the little things getting bigger and bigger and it leading to me hiding major parts of myself. How is that 'living'?

So, I ask you, do you agree with this quote, and if you do you need to change your life? 

 "It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not."

Andre Gide 

Christians: Holier than holy?

No.

But also yes, Christians are stereotypically seen as holier than holy. Ohh, and there is that well known fact that you can't be a Christian unless you live a perfect life and obey the bible to the t.

I mean, it even says to life like that in the bible:

"Anyone who claims to be intimate with God ought to live the same kind of live as Jesus lived." 

1 John 2:6 (The Message)

I tried that route, and I failed. Because I can't be perfect, not even close to it, and I imagine that no one else can either. But then I discovered what God's grace truely meant. Grace means that God has already forgiven me for what I have done and for what I will do. In fact, as long as I believe that Jesus died for my sins and rose again, so that I can join him in eternal life. I can't do anything so bad that God won't forgive.

Brilliantly, so Christians can live their lives exactly how they want, but we don't. We do try to follow what's written in the bible. Something we can't actually do, and doesn't matter because God will forgive when we slip up anyway. So why do we?

For me, and probably many others it's because of Jesus. I don't follow him because he is the King of Kings and Lord of Lord, I follow him because he loved me so much he died on a cross so I could live with him forever. So why wouldn't I want to walk life with him? I can't ask for a better friend. So I follow Jesus down the path he lived his life, because if I'm with my closest friend, why wouldn't I want to do what he wants? So me and Jesus we walk the narrow path together, sometimes I wander off track, sometimes a sit down and scream that's it's not fair. But whatever I do I know that when the going gets tough, he's going to be there to hold my hand, to carry me, to wipe my tears away when I mess up yet again. Because, I get to call Jesus, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords my friend and my brother and together we walk the path Jesus walked 2000 years ago. 

 Any comments welcome :)