Take care of your mental health before it takes care of you.

Trigger warning: acts of potential self-harm and issues of mental health.

This week marks 2020’s Mental Health Awareness Week, and I have been in full-on reflection mode about my mental health in the last year and beyond.

I have had what some might describe as a rollercoaster year, with the ending of my civil partnership after 21 years together, moving out of the family home and not living with my two children.

In February, I decided to take a break from work. I went to the doctor. I described how I was feeling and as I did so I broke down, for the first time I told someone that I had given up, I didn’t feel like bringing things to an end, but if a bus knocked me over when I left the doctors, then that would be ok. That’s genuinely how I felt and as I look back how I had felt for some time. I have always had a deep fear of growing old, and the thought of death has always terrified me. The realisation that it no longer held that fear and being able to recognise it, I began to acknowledge some of what was happening.

At this point, I didn’t know what I was doing, what I should be doing or if I could do anything about it. So the doctor signed me off work, and I went to bed. I didn’t sleep properly; in fact, I hadn’t been sleeping properly for months. I was lucky though, I had someone staying at the house a couple of times a week, and I’m not sure they know how important that presence was for me. Someone else to engage with, on a purely surface level, not pushing or prying but being there and being open to talking when I needed it. Their empathy was vital in those few weeks.

Initially, I pinpointed the breakdown of my relationship as the reason for my mental health breakdown, and of course, it didn’t help, but it wasn’t the root. I’m still coming to terms with the root causes and working it through. My husband and I were both on the floor with our mental health, we hadn’t united as we should have done over the last couple of years and he was brave enough to call time on a relationship that had become hurtful for our children and us.

I have always wanted to be able to pinpoint moments in time where I can identify; that’s what I did wrong. If that situation comes up again, I will do it differently, but I honestly can’t pinpoint one particular moment. Life had become too much to handle.

• Homelife was very stressful
• Worklife was very stressful, and
• I didn’t feel as though I belonged anywhere.

I’d become resentful of the situations I was in, every little challenge was consuming me, and while some of the time recognising I couldn’t change what was going on, I stopped focusing on what I could do to make changes. People were too difficult to engage with, and if they weren’t going to help and help themselves, then I didn’t have the energy or inclination to help them.

As I sat at home, six weeks before the UK lockdown for Covid-19 came into effect, I had put myself into my own lockdown of sorts. I went away to see family for a few days, and the children still came at weekends, but I was living in a shell. So once the UK did go into lockdown, I found it normal really.

What did I do, how did I plot my way back?

The hardest thing was acknowledging where I was, stopping and taking a look at myself. I stayed in touch with my doctor, accessing the online mental health resources for free which enabled me to recognise my triggers, what was I genuinely feeling or what was a symptom of the anxiety I was feeling. If I hadn’t done this, I’m not sure where I’d be today.

Shortly after I’d seen the doctor, maybe a week or so later, a crucial moment occurred, and I hadn’t felt this in the worst days. Still, I was driving my car and had gotten into a negative thinking pattern, and I can’t even remember what about. All of a sudden, for a split-second, I felt a pang in my chest and up my left arm. At this moment, I felt as though I was about to turn my car over.

I didn’t, I stopped, I recognised that it was a feeling in my body, a feeling of anxiety and not a desire to cause myself more pain. I honestly think I was a split-second away from taking an auto-reaction, but I’d started my recovery which had put me back in the driving seat (you like the pun?).

So I continued my way back. I listened to my body on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. I did what I wanted, what I needed.

• After a few weeks, I planned for my return to work
• I played FIFA, yes this was a vital part of my recovery
• I did a 1000-piece puzzle
• I went on a daily walk, sometimes only for 5 minutes but I needed air
• I wrote to a small group of friends on messenger to tell them how I was, and how I was feeling. I bailed on sending the message 5/6 times but finally got the courage to do it. My sister-in-law was instrumental in chatting it through before I sent it. Their response cheered me up and made me feel that I was not only loved but wanted and needed.
• I also focused on my health and nutrition, and I’m undertaking a programme that will help me become my own personal trainer. (Since Feb 11th, I’ve lost 1st 2llb and feeling the best I have felt both in terms of my health and confidence in years).

The most significant decision of them all I guess but also the easiest, once I’d made the decision, was to come. I decided to leave my job. Something I never thought I would opt to do, but it wasn’t going to help me recover in the short term, and I wasn’t going to be in the right place for them in the immediate future.

Am I cured?

No, I’m not sure that can happen if I’m honest, but I am:

• getting help,
• seeing more friends, even if only on zoom,
• eating better,
• sleeping better, up from 4 to 6-7 hours a night
• focusing on doing work that makes me feel good and has a positive impact on others

I’m here, feeling better than I was, temping as a home worker and setting up my own business and doing some other things that will help the sector I work in too.

Do I care if I die tomorrow?

I care more today than I did back in February and I want to be here for my children, friends and family. Things are getting better, and I feel as though I’m in more control. But it truly is one step at a time.

Reflections

I reflect that the signs had been there for 18 months if not up to 3 years before my issues really surfaced. I’d even sought help before but convinced myself I was in a decent place and didn’t have time for more sessions after the initial six weeks. Maybe if I had adequately listened to my mind and body, I could have done something about it.

Footnote:

I’ve written this as an account of my life, my thoughts and the actions I have taken. It is not intended to be a guide to anybody else’s life, actions or any steps to recovery. I’ve shared it because some of it may resonate with a reader and if it does and it helps to read it, then I’m glad to have done so.