Tag: Friends

Posted in About today

Ancient history

Posted on by WeeGee

I hate the past. Why can’t we just leave it behind? Why does what happened before have to matter to now? I loved history at school but I suppose that was because I was too young to have a history of my own then. I didn’t understand what the past was going to mean to me in the future.

Time again, eh? It makes your head explode.

This time two years ago I was happy. Truly – I was happy. Sure I had a broken brain but I was in charge – I was managing it and life was good. Then, one day it all changed. It really was as quick as that. One day I had one life and the next day I had another life. I never wanted the other life. I wasn’t built for it. You see this life that I have? I’m not supposed to be in it.

Let’s get rid of all that broken brain stuff. Broken brain is a big problem but, in the main scheme of things it’s the least of the things I have to worry about. The truth of it is, the biggest thing, and the rawest thing, and the thing that hurts the most is the fact that I am lonely.

I’m lonely because I’m alone. That stands to reason. I had a birthday the other day and do you know how many people I spoke to on my birthday? One. That’s one fellow human being – not just on any day, but on my birthday. By the way – I have two parents and one sibling. You can do the maths there, can’t you? I’m not a bad person. I’m not a horrible person. I’m just a frightened person. Or does being frightened make you bad and horrible? Is it another one of those rules that I don’t quite understand.

Where is everybody? Where are those people that I care so much for that it HURTS? Why do I care so much that it HURTS for people who aren’t even attached enough to drop me a line on my birthday? Why does any of this matter to me? If you tell people you don’t care about your birthday you shouldn’t be surprised that they don’t care either, should you?

What’s the matter with me?

I’m also lonely because my head seems to be different. It’s not that I think I’m special or unique – it’s just that my brain doesn’t seem to work like other peoples. Sometimes I say things and people look at me like I’m a freak or an alien or something. How do I always manage to get it so wrong? How did I end up being not real or proper? Am I really an alien from planet odd? Why can’t I be like everybody else?

Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m mental or just a bit of a weido… Either way, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

Am I feeling sorry for myself? You betcha! Do I have good reason? Who knows?

Love from WeeGee – all mixed up and lonely and overwhelmed xxx

Posted in Reasons to be cheerful

Going to the Olympics: Better than…

Posted on by WeeGee

… Frank Turner!

Yep. That’s right. You heard it here first – going to London 2012 is officially better that going to see Frank Turner at the Hammersmith Apollo on the 22nd November 2011. This is big news in WeeGee land by the way.

I understand that not everybody cares about the Olympic Games, so here’s a quick summary of WeeGee at the Olympic Games for those of you who don’t want to read an over excited and gushing post all about the Olympics.

A quick summary

1. There are huge crowds of trillions of people at the Olympic Games – WeeGee doesn’t like huge crowds of trillions of people.

2. At least a million strangers amongst the huge crowds of trillions of people at the Olympic Games will speak to you without warning – Wee Gee doesn’t like at least a million strangers speaking to her without warning.

3. WeeGee went to the Olympics and at least a million strangers amongst the huge crowds of trillions of people at the Olympic Games spoke to her without warning – WeeGee LOVED going to the Olympics.

Here’s an even quicker summary of WeeGee at the Games just to make sure you get the gist of how over excited and gushing I am.

An even quicker summary

WOW!

An over excited and gushing post all about the Olympics

I thought I was all interested and involved in the Olympics before I actually went along to the Olympics. All I can say is I hadn’t seen anything yet! It was amazing. Like, totally AMAZEBALLS.

The back story is this:

I was really looking forward to going, but at the same time I had a list of ‘things to be anxious about’ that was as long as my arm. First of all there was the fact that I was going somewhere that I didn’t ‘know  what I was doing’ – I like to know the rules so that I can avoid getting anxious about doing it wrong and looking like an idiot. Then there were the huge crowds of at least a trillion people to contend with – I never quite know how my brain is going to react under such circumstances. Then there was going on the tube with huge crowds of at least a trillion people. I was also extremely worried that I would arrive at the Olympics and decide that I wanted to go home IMMEDIATELY. Or what if I got to the Olympics and realised that I was more mental than I’d ever been before and had a complete nervous breakdown at the Olympics? Finally – what if the toilets were grotty?

Thinking about now it’s amazing that I got there really – but then again I did have a secret weapon on the day – Mr Friendly. Mr Friendly is friendly, and brave and calm and actually pretty good at laughing along with WeeGee when the mentals strike. Good old Mr Friendly!

Broken brain was still in flat and empty mode on the day WeeGee went to the games – well at least at the start of the day. I very nearly called Mr Friendly to say’ I can’t go, why don’t you take your flat mate instead?’ But then I remembered that I can do a good job of ignoring the flat and empties so it would be okay in the end. In the end, it was better than okay. There were a few jittery moments, but they were few and far between and there were a number of moments when I felt NORMAL and/or HAPPY – the Olympic Games: Good for your mental health.

This is the view of the approach to the Olympic Park (if you come via West Ham, anyway):

It really does take your breath away – what with the scale of it and the expectancy and the general awesomeness. Along the way, there are loads of volunteers welcoming you and being all friendly and helpful and whooping everybody up. It’s difficult not to get excited. By the way, you see that massive curly wurly thing in the background? I went all the way to the top of it. That’s how brave I was when I went to the Olympics (more about that later)

When I got to security, I didn’t know what I was doing and I was a bit anxious. Was it exactly like airport security or were there different special rules that I didn’t know about? Was I allowed to take my NRT lozenges in or would they be confiscated and if so – THEN WHAT WOULD I DO? Would I have to take my shoes off (I hate taking my shoes off. I hate other people taking their shoes off more – I’m afraid of feet)? Did I have some unexpected contraband in my bag – like a gun – that I didn’t know about?

The answer? Everything was fine. WeeGee coped just fine. Go WeeGee!

It became clear to me as I went through security that strangers were going to speak to me at the Olympic Games. Instead of deciding I wanted to go home IMMEDIATELY in order to avoid this, I decided I was going to play a game of ‘let’s see how many strangers WeeGee can manage to speak to back without going mental’.

The answer? Loads!

Here is WeeGee arriving at the Olympic Park having being whooped up by the volunteers and buoyed by speaking to strangers and not knowing what she was doing but coping. Yes. That’s the face I pull when those things happen:

Once we got into the Olympic Park WeeGee took a leap of faith and decided that she was going to go to the top of the huge curly wurly thing. It was a leap of faith because a) it was huge and I didn’t know how you got back down and b) once again, I didn’t really know what was going to happen when I got to the top.

Here’s what happened. You go up to a viewing platform 84 feet high and look down on the Stadium. If you are lucky enough to be up there when a race is taking place you will hear a mahoosive roar from inside the stadium and it will be so mahoosive that the hairs on the back of your neck will stand up. Then you go to a different viewing platform to watch the athletes warming up/training and wonder whether Usain Bolt is down there and think WOW – I am here! This is the view from the top of the curly wurly thing:

Then you realise you have to walk down all 84 feet of the curly wurly thing and, on the way down, you cling on to the banister for dear life. When you get to the bottom you feel proud of yourself for going up and coming down – imagine if you had let the mentals stop you. And you are double proud of yourself because you only went and initiated a conversation with a stranger because his children amused you and you wanted to tell him and be friendly. Go WeeGee!

Next stop was what we thought to be the Biggest McDonalds in the World for a quarter pounder, fries and fat coke. The McDonalds we went to was pretty huge but we later realised that is was teeny tiny in comparison to the actual Biggest McDonalds in the World! (a note on McDonalds – the last time I ate there was May 2011. It’s definitely better the less often you have it!)

We spent a long time just wandering around soaking up the atmosphere, because the atmosphere was totally amazing. Everybody was all happy and excited and friendly and, while we were wandering around, I managed to initiate conversation with a random stranger #2 by talking to a nice man about ‘The Cube’. Totally go WeeGee – I was on fire!

It really is amazing being at the Olympic park by the way, did I mention that? I don’t think I’m doing a good job of putting it into words. Then again – I don’t actually think you can adequately put it into words. I’ve been to a few huge sporting and musical events in my time but they’re always a bit chaotic, and scary and grubby. The Olympics is none of those things. It’s organised and exciting and very, very clean. Even the toilets are acceptable!

As we headed up towards the hockey venue we saw this:

An as yet unidentified dude from the BBC… everyone was looking at him and waving even though nobody knew who he was or what he was doing. It’s amazing what people will get excited about, isn’t it?! By the way – there’s a prize for anyone who can identify the dude from the BBC….

Finally after much soaking up of atmosphere we arrived at the hockey venue. This is what it looked like:

And this was team GB lining up for the anthems against Pakistan:

It was amazing to see all that red white and blue in one place at one time. Truly amazing. We’ve already established that I’m not a fan of flags – I guess because I associate them with fascists and hooligans. My association is clearly wrong, because there was nothing unpleasant about seeing all those union flags being brandished so proudly. It was actually quite beautiful. Maybe I’m not a cynic anymore because even I got in on the action and purchased a hat with the union flag on top. Here’s WeeGee getting in the team GB spirit by wearing a rather fetching hat (it was an impulse purchase):

And here’s the crowd just after roaring out God Save Aunt Jean (she keeps us nice and clean) – all the hairs on the back of my neck were up at this point and it was only a prelim match!

Guess what? Team GB won! Perfect. I had a super time watching the hockey even if I didn’t always know what was going on!

We headed towards the end of day with WeeGee getting the opportunity to watch Mr Friendly in action as he actually properly spoke to some strangers. Two blokes from Winchester wanted to chat (not just small talk) and I didn’t like it at all because I didn’t know what to say and I wanted to LEAVE IMMEDIATELY. Mr friendly just got on with it for a while and then realised I wanted to leave and got me outta there. Good old Mr Friendly again!

We rounded up the day in the viewing park watching the rowers getting gold and singing along with God Save Aunt Jean again and seeing Victoria Pendleton winning her gold medal on the big screen. Exciting! Go Team GB!!

I love the Olympics and I loved going to the Olympics. I’ve written a long post but I definitely didn’t do it justice although I tried my best. Maybe I should have stuck with the even shorter summary because that probably said it all:

WOW!

If you don’t have tickets for an event and have a spare ten pounds it is WELL WORTH buying a ticket to go in and have a look around and to watch a few events at the viewing park. Seriously – the Olympics are better than Frank Turner. There is no higher recommendation than that!

Lots of Olympic Love, WeeGee xx

PS. Just in case you are wondering why both of the photos of me are in black and white it’s because everybody looks better in black and white – especially WeeGee who looks like a moron in colour. Here’s the proof:

Posted in Welcome to my world

You know you’re having a bad day when….

Posted on by WeeGee

…. You get two calls to the crisis team in before supper*

I’m going to have to issue one of those ‘trigger warnings’ now. I don’t want to upset anybody or put them in a bad place so please bow out now if you are vulnerable about – self harm, suicide attempts, weird food stuff or mental madness in general.

Is there anybody left? Are you sure? This is quite long and not very cheery until the very end….

So, yeah, self harm, suicide attempts, weird food stuff and a bit of mental madness to boot. I have some larks don’t I?

For three or four days my brain was on best behaviour. I managed to trick it into playing a game of ‘let’s just try really, really hard for a while and see what happens’ and it worked until my brain decided it wasn’t going along with that anymore. As brain quite rightly pointed out, what’s the point of trying really, really hard if you end up where you always do anyway (which, for the record, is curled up in a teeny tiny ball trying desperately not to make plans to end your life sometime soon)?

I had a rotten dream last night. I could have done without it because when I woke up and remembered it (at just gone three am this morning) it stirred up some stuff that most definitely didn’t need stirring. I guess everyone has stuff that doesn’t need stirring – I’ve got a lot of it and if I have learned only one thing about stirring stuff that doesn’t need stirring it’s that if you absolutely have to stir it you should NEVER EVER do it between the hours of 10pm and 7am because of the golden rule of safe stirring: stirring is not be done when it is quiet and everyone else is asleep.

Thankfully (maybe) not everyone was asleep because there was my local friendly crisis team – on call 24/7 for my every mental madness emergency. So I phoned them up and told them I’d broken the golden rule of safe stirring and was now going a bit mental.

We tried to work out ‘what had gotten into me’ but for some reason (I don’t know which reason) I didn’t tell them the whole truth. I told them I wasn’t hungry and there was nothing obviously dangerous in the flat. Two breaths, two pointless lies. Why? Just why?

The truth was that I wasn’t hungry but starving hungry having eaten nothing but a bag of Doritos all day. Actually, here’s another rule for you. If you absolutely have to be mental, avoid being starving and mental at the same time AT ALL COSTS. It’s rubbish. Truly rubbish.

Why hadn’t I eaten anything all day? I decided not to. That was it. I just decided and once I’m decided on something like that I’m totally decided. The theory goes is that I use deciding not to eat in order to punish myself somehow. I don’t know if that’s it but it’s as good a theory as any, so I guess I have to go with it. Why didn’t I tell the nice crisis support people that I hadn’t eaten? Because I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep it all to myself.

Why was there something dangerous in the flat? Well there wasn’t – not in the ‘usual’ sense which is really just to say that I hadn’t deliberately brought anything into the flat in order to deliberately hurt myself. But a girl’s got to shave her legs, right? So there were ‘the emergency disposable razors’, which were not intended to be dangerous but which could be with a little determination) And I didn’t tell the crisis team chaps about them because this was an emergency and I had all the determination I needed. I was mental and angry and frightened and, in all honesty, I didn’t want anyone to talk me down. I dismantled the disposable razors with relative ease and bob’s your uncle, fanny’s your aunt…. I hurt myself. It hurt and made me feel small and foolish and even more frightened. It was supposed to make it better – it was supposed to get rid of whatever it was that had gotten in to me.

A period of pacing commenced. I felt like I was waiting for something. I don’t know what – maybe it was the thing I thought was going to happen the other day? I decided to curl up and do my waiting on the couch. It started to get light and I wondered if that was what I was waiting for – morning, because everything is better in the morning? Except it isn’t – it’s exactly the same. Every single lousy morning is exactly the same (that was broken brain’s take on it by the way).

I tried the crisis team again because I didn’t think I was going to make it. They suggested diazepam (another emergency ration, but GP approved unlike the disposable razors) and if I couldn’t do that (I’m scared of diazepam because it’s habit forming) it was ‘maybe time to think about coming in’.

Okay. So I thought about ‘coming in’ and dismissed that because I felt more mental than I’d ever felt before and decided that if I went in, I’d probably never get out again. I didn’t want that to happen. So I carried on waiting. Waiting and thinking. It all got a bit boo hoo and grizzly.

And then there was an epiphany moment in WeeGee’s broken brain. What I was waiting for was…. the last day WeeGee would ever spend on Earth. Not only that – I’d made it. No more waiting! Today was the day.

Once I had decided that this was the last day that WeeGee would spend on the planet things got a bit easier. There are things you need to organise if you’re about to bow out like making sure ‘the box’ is in order. ‘The box’ lives on top of my wardrobe and has a copy of my will, bank account details, information that my parents need about probate, insurance document, strict instructions about dealing with The Cat, a couple of photos and some letters. Ever since I got hit by a bus** I’ve been paranoid about making things as easy as possible for my loved ones  if I check out early – whether at my own hand or by an act of god. ‘The box’ was in order.

I had a shower and got ready. It took a while to decide what I was going to wear but in the end I settled on the skirt I wanted to be buried in (don’t ask – it’s stupid). I fed the little man and then fed him again. I think that was guilt. And then I headed to the outside world to purchase a tin of Heinz tomato soup and 32 painkillers. It’s a bit dangerous that I know that there is a shop within walking distance that sells painkillers 32 at a time. I see that now but I don’t know how to ‘unknow’ it. That is a problem for another day.

I got back – opened the curtains (because no-one wants to spend their last moments on planet Earth in the dark) and heated up the soup. Heinz tomato soup isn’t much of a last supper is it? All I can say is that if you have decided that this is the last day you will spend on planet earth YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT OF YOUR RIGHT MIND and are almost certainly in no fit state to decide what your last meal should be.

I washed up and emptied the bins and then fed Gryff again. A lot of food this time in case I wasn’t found for days. And then I sat staring at a box of 32 painkillers for a very long time. First of all I put them very far away from me, and gradually I brought them closer until they were right in front of my face. And I looked at them for another very long time.

By this time Gryff was sitting in ‘croissant cat’ position looking at me looking at the painkillers. And I came all over all soppy. I thought about the worst life night of my life ever (which was also the worst night of Gryff’s life) and how when I finally got to bed that night be had jumped up, burrowed under the covers and curled up next to my tummy and stayed there all night to stay safe and to keep me safe. And I wondered who he would curl up with to be safe when he realised that I, the only person he ever trusted, wasn’t coming back. And then I thought about Mr Friendly, and Mr Wise, Mrs Worry and Mr Hilarious who would all, in their own ways, blame themselves even though it was nothing to do with them. And I thought about my mum who would never, ever be able to understand no matter hard she tried.

And then I thought FOR FUCK’S SAKE GAIL WEEGEE. Are you really going to top yourself BECAUSE YOU HAD A BAD DREAM? After everything that happened and everything you bounced back from? Seriously! What is the matter with you……. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.

‘Pull yourself together’ is not something you should ever say to someone with mental health problems. But, if you yourself are mental you are allowed to say it to yourself. Not because it will make it all better but because it will stop it all getting worse. Sometimes that is all you can hope for – things not getting worse.

Where am I now? I’m mostly back. I’m fed and watered and safe. I’m playing ‘let’s just try really, really hard for a while and see what happens’ once more. It’s the only game I’ve ever been any good at.

Love from WeeGee  xx

PS – I re-read this one and realised that it’s a bit wonky and meandering and mental. Sorry. But you know me 🙂

*Dinner if you aren’t pretentious like me. Or tea if you are from The North

**Which is a whole ‘nother story!

Posted in About today

My brain is broken and I’d like to complain

Posted on by WeeGee

I’ve been in hiding today which, having survived the bank holiday weekend without once going into hiding, was a bit of a blow. It has made me think that I’d like to swap my brain – if nothing else I’d at least like one that has the decency to decide to go into hiding when I’m expecting it to.

In the end, the dreaded bank holiday weekend wasn’t particularly dreadful. Save a touch of the jitters on Saturday and a couple of wobbles on Sunday afternoon I was gainfully occupied with various tasks and activities and suitably distracted. Get this, I even left the flat more times than had I intended to. I met up with Mr Brave on Sunday for brunch – it was good fun and we spent most of the time talking about the merits and de-merits of online dating sites (his were the merits and mine were the other). I also caught up with Mr Friendly over lunch on Tuesday which was equally nice, even if we did spend a considerable amount of the time talking about how much of a nutter I’ve been for the past year or so. Two social outings without me going flaky and cancelling is quite an achievement for me at the moment.

As an aside, I’ve had a couple of attacks of ‘the jitters’ over the past few days. I’m prone to worrying – it’s usually quite endearing if a little frustrating – but the jitters are like my usual worrying multiplied by a million or two. I’m putting this down to the medication which we’re* working to increase so I’m hoping it will pass soon. There’s quite enough lunacy in my life without ‘the jitters’ thank you very much. (It’s also quite embarrassing to jump right out of your skin if someone so much as looks at you unexpectedly.)

Anyway, back to the hiding. When I’m well** I probably go into hiding about once every two months or so. When things aren’t so good, it’s closer to once a fortnight. This isn’t at all ideal when you are somehow managing to hold down a full time job no matter how understanding your employer is. Still, that’s by the by. It happens and you move on; that there is my brave face.

I wake up every day feeling like I can’t face it but I almost always do face it – and I try to see this as a positive. I try to be glad that it’s only on the smallest minority of mornings that I wake up with a giant ‘no’ surrounding me. When ‘no’ is upon me, it doesn’t matter what I try to think or what bargains I do with myself ‘no’ booms out in the background and keeps me where I am.

Today I kept telling myself that at X o’clock I would do a, b and c but before I knew it already was X o’clock and I was telling myself that at Y o’clock I would do d, e and f. In the end I gave up even trying to make plans and decided to go to sleep because going to sleep is still the best way I’ve found of avoiding myself when I’m sick of the sight and sound of me. I often sleep the time away. I tell myself that I wouldn’t be able to sleep that much if I didn’t need to but I know in my heart that isn’t quite true…

I eventually made it out of bed proper at about 6pm, still shattered, still low and still a bit jittery. Unfortunately, as I tried to force myself to go about the motions I found myself in the midst of ‘a bit of a maddy’. It was an unexpected ‘bit of a maddy’ and I actually began to think that it was going to be a This Is It Maddy. I was convinced that my brain had finally given up on me and I was either going to have a TV style breakdown and end up wandering around the outside world in my PJs raving at strangers or that I was going to do myself a serious mischief. It made me smile when I wrote the bit about the TV breakdown but at the time, it really wasn’t very funny at all.

Thankfully Mr Wise phoned at just the right moment, talked me down and helped me make a plan. The plan was that I would cook a meal, take a shower and write a blog post. If I still find myself feeling a bit This Is It when he phones me in a little while I’m going to go to A&E and tell them I’m having a mental health crisis**** and he’s going to pick me up and take me away from it all in the morning.

Anyway. I’m calm now and I think my This Is It moment has passed. I’ve got a phone call with a mate lined up before bed as well as another chat with Mr Wise and I’m going to do two lists for tomorrow – one for if I make it to work and a back up one in case the ‘no’ is upon me again. I’ll be on the sleeping tablets again tonight. I try not to take them unless it is absolutely essential, but I think today definitely falls under the essential banner.

Brains are rubbish aren’t they? I’d, really really like a new one that doesn’t pull such cruel stunts on me, so, as I like writing complaint letters here is my attempt to get an exchange….

Dear God****,

I’ve given the matter considerable thought and I would now like to return my brain to you and exchange it for a better one. It’s not in especially good working order but as I have not tampered with it or damaged it in any way it must have been faulty when I got it. It is still in its original packaging although this is a little worn around the edges.

Love and kisses Wee Gee xx

*I say we although I really mean ‘they’ but not because I’m paranoid.

**Oh how I laughed.

***This is the final step of the safety plan but I still can’t quite imagine myself actually saying it. Do you know what I mean?!

****Or whatever other supreme being is the one responsible for looking out for me.

Posted in Some thoughts about my journey

A cunning plan

Posted on by WeeGee

I can be a bit flakey about keeping things up so today I’m feeling really rather pleased with myself because I’ve managed to keep writing my blog, reasonably regularly, for five whole weeks. Although five weeks isn’t the longest of times, it is definitely long enough to give me a little lift heading into the dreaded Bank Holiday weekend.

I’ve spent a little bit of time trying to work out what I want my blog to be when it grows up. Sometimes I think I want to use it to record my progress, sometimes I think I want to use it to set out how I feel, and sometimes I think I want to use it to write down what’s been going in my world.

And then it occurred to me that it can be all of those things as well as anything else I decide I want it to be in the future – it is my blog after all!

If I’m going to be writing about the things that go on in my world, I’ll probably have to mention my friends and family from time to time and since I don’t even use my own name when blogging it didn’t feel right to be referring to those people by name. At the same time ‘my friend’ and ‘another friend’ and a ‘different friend’ might get a little tiresome and confusing in the fullness of time.

Anyway, I’d already written about a few of my nearest of dearest giving each one an alias along the lines of a Mr Men character so I thought I’d revive that naming convention just in case I wanted to distinguish between the people who are part of my story. What a cunning plan! I posted a list here, but if and when I use them I’ll give the person a suitable introduction the first time round*.

*Actually, it’ll be the next time round because I’m off to the pub with Mr Hungry, Mr Hilarious, Mr Brave, Mr Nice and Mrs Sparkle shortly and I haven’t got time to do the full into bit right now!

Posted in Practical issues

Counting the pennies – an afterthought

Posted on by WeeGee

In the off chance that my good friend (who knows who they are) reads this post, I should express some heartfelt and public gratitude for the awesome practical support, particularly on the money side of things. If my good friend doesn’t read this post, readers will at least know that I have a good friend who has been awesome, particularly on the money side of things!

Posted in Reasons to be cheerful

What not to say

Posted on by WeeGee

Yesterday  I was having a nosey around the Depression Alliance’s website and found an interesting list of ten things not to say to someone who is depressed:

  • There’s always someone worse off than you are.
  • No one ever said that life was fair.
  • Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
  • So, you’re depressed. Aren’t you always?
  • Try not to be so depressed.
  • It’s your own fault.
  • I think your depression is a way of punishing us.
  • Haven’t you grown tired of all this me, me, me stuff yet?
  • Believe me, I know how you feel. I was depressed once for several days.
  • Have you tried chamomile tea?

(full list here – also includes 10 things to say)

With the exception of ‘stop feeling sorry for yourself’*, I suppose I’ve been lucky in that no-one has said any of the above to me. Still, it got me thinking about the way people have responded to me when I’ve told them I suffer from depression, or more rarely, when I’ve been talking about the impact it has on me…

In my experience the most common and the most frustrating thing people say is one of the many variations of ‘but why are you depressed’ or, in other words, ‘depression itself isn’t a real thing; what’s actually the matter with you?’ Sometimes it seems that it is impossible for people to grasp that this is a question that a depressed person can rarely answer. Sure, some bouts of depression are triggered by an event or experience (the kind of event that everybody finds difficult to deal with – redundancy, relationship breakdown, bereavement). However, even when that is the case (bearing in mind that many episodes of depression have no identifiable trigger), by the time the illness has taken hold the starting point has almost completely lost its relevance and the thing that is the matter is simply the fact that you are suffering from depression.

At this point, I do feel I should point out that over the years a lot of fantastic people have said a lot of fantastic and helpful things to me. Often people recount their own experiences of recovering from depression and I’ve always found this to be an extremely encouraging thing to hear when I’m in the pit. There’s a lot of re-assurance to be found in knowing that people you know (or people that know people you know) have found a way to climb out and put their lives back together – it’s a little bit of hope to cling on to.

At the same time, I have received a great deal of practical advice (put your shoes on and leave the flat being a particularly valuable one) and recommendations for resources and support material (this one being my favourite so far). Above all else, people have been kind enough to offer a wealth of helpful words of wisdom which have helped me keep my head in troubled times. For example here’s a particular gem that a former counsellor passed on to me years ago and which still means a lot to me ‘Everyone who got to where he  is had to begin where they were’ (R.L. Stevenson)

Having given the matter some thought I have been reminded that actually, the people around me right now are pretty fabulous and the people I have shared my secret with, both recently and in the past,  have almost always responded with genuine empathy and compassion.

And that there is a reason to be a teeny tiny bit cheerful.

*To be fair, I think there was a certain amount of justification at the time and under the circumstances!