So sang Tears for Fears. But, Roland and Curt, can we? Really?
On a more serious note, I’d like to know if any of the massive have experienced a genuinely profound (positive) change in mental health of the kind that the self-help books promise.
I’ve recently had an initial consultation with a hynotherapist in the latest bid to ‘fix’ me. Haven’t started the sessions proper yet but to be honest ah hae ma doots that I am susceptible to hypnosis, being somewhat analytically minded and self-conscious. Can’t / don’t want to go into details here about what my ishoos are but suffice to say they have roots that are decades deep and though I had a loving, supportive upbringing I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy / contended / comfortable in my own skin. I’ve always ‘functioned’ but I know I’ve limited myself significantly through an all-encompassing negative outlook and chronically low self-esteem, which is the specific issue that I’m hoping hynotherapy may be able to address. One reason I feel that I’ve struggled with depression for so long is that in a way it’s all I’ve ever known. When the GLW has had stressful times she’s had an acute sense of ‘Whoa! This is not how I’m supposed to feel’ and is extremely motivated to take steps to get back to normality as soon as possible. Me, less so.
So what I’m asking is whether the fates are set, meaning mitigation is the only answer, or whether profound change is even possible. I honestly don’t mind either way, and at the moment would gladly settle for incremental improvements.
Bit deep for a Saturday tea-time I know but any thoughts much appreciated.
On the self-esteem issue, I know it’s cheesy but I found I had ‘something in my eye’ earlier while listening to poor doomed Whitney belting this out…
Famously covered on Kevin Rowland’s confessional album My Beauty. I have a copy of that somewhere but can’t seem to remember what the cover looks like – maybe someone will post it to spur my memory…?
will have to leave you in suspen….
http://i1318.photobucket.com/albums/t642/burtkocain/Kevin_Rowland-My_Beauty_zpsy0ytqu3i.jpg
I have.
Was agoraphobic to a greater or lesser degree throughout my 20s. Tried all sorts of things, and bought all sorts of books. To the extent where overcoming anxiety actually became something of a hobby.
Then I got a proper hobby, cycling, and over the last few years I’ve very gradually become well. It hasn’t changed my personality (unluckily for you lot) but it has rid me of the worst of my anxiety. And now I can do things I previously couldn’t, like jumping on a train down to London on my tod.
Change? Probably not, but alterations are certainly possible.
(Soz, flippant, but it is certainly feasible to nip and tuck enough to make a difference. G’luck!)
Yes, through a combination of approaches.
(Very) long story short- although I have always been ‘functioning’ I have had a variety of ishooos since my early teens, some more serious than others. But they have become more manageable (note: not solved) though a variety of things:
i. Psychotherapy to get to the roots of these damn things (although very expensive and time-consuming, but literally life-changing);
ii. An approach which is kind-of CBT-ish called REBT which really helped me to change the way I look at things: see http://www.threeminutetherapy.com/rebt.html and the accompanying books. It doesn’t take any kind of ‘tell me about your childhood; how does that make you feel? ‘ type approach, which suits some people better;
iii. Occasionally, prescription drugs as at various points in my life I really had lost perspective.
I think they key is finding what fits: REBT/CBT can help, so can psychotherapy, so can drugs, maybe all three. I think it depends on the issue(s) and what approach clicks for you.
So yes, change is possible; or at least, one can reach a level of self-understanding, which I think is the first step to true change. I can now manage a lot of my symptoms: panics attacks, for example, I can now sit through, knowing they’re not going to kill me, and they eventually pass. Unpleasant (sometimes very unpleasant) but manageable. And I know my triggers and can (mostly) avoid situations that exacerbate them.
Good luck! It may be a long road and it’s never a linear path but change is possible. But it’s hard work; sometimes very hard. If it’s any consolation I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have some kind of mental health challenge. But you’re doing something about it, which takes courage.
Thanks Ruby. I’ve had CBT and take on board the basic principle of it while never quite getting rid of the nagging, ever-present voice that says ‘yeah but you know that’s not the whole story’ or similar.
This may well be a curse of my personality type that I have to live with, but the problem I find is that I have ‘made sense of my issues’ and understand them. In short – random shit happens. Slightly longer version – I had some unfortunate experiences at a formative age which I strongly suspect has fatally wounded (or at least put into intensive care) my sense of contentment and self-belief. I know many people talk about therapy having given them a new insight into things but at the moment I find it improbable that something can be unlocked that haven’t already gone over in my mind ad nauseum.
As I say – merde occurs.
Yes, I understand: I’ve had similar.
What therapy can do is help you to not just understand it but change the way you see it, and then further- change how you act/live. Particularly if it’s childhood issues you begin to understand that it’s not your fault, exactly where responsibility lies, but most importantly- how to make different decisions about life now. . For example, I think lots of us act in ways that repeat patterns from childhood: therapy can help you see this and make different choices in the present/future.
So I am slowly changing my behaviour based on putting the pieces together: so like you I was only all too aware of where this stuff comes from and the damage it did, but therapy helped me to subsequently think about why I was doing X and Y now and act then differently, and that has been enormously helpful.
Nine months ago I stopped drinking. I’d largely given up drugs in 2000 but that just led to heavier and heavier and very destructive binge drinking. I was told I was literally drinking at the Last Chance Saloon and I would soon be dead if I carried on.
I checked into a clinic for a month and now with the help of AA and (a rediscovered) God I haven’t touched a drop since.
Being sober tends to lay bare other things but slowly and gradually my life is improving and almost every day I am so grateful for not drinking.
In the past four years I’ve got divorced, split from my partner, given up booze, beaten cancer and lost my job twice. It’s been a bumpy road but I’m still here talking shite about music.
Well done, Clive. Booze is a tricky demon to tame. Keep it up. One day at a time, eh?
In answer to the OP. Of course you can change. We humans adapt and change all the time. I’m not the same as I was last year, five years ago, ten years etc… I admire your resolve and desire to improve. You seem willing to give anything a go if it might help. That augurs well for the future.
Good luck.
http://youtu.be/af1-Qm8vSrs
Tame Impala – Yes I’m Changing
God, Clive, you brave man. Well done. Keep on keeping on – that’s an amazing thing you’re doing.
Thank you guys 🙂
Thanks all (to those who have already responded and any that may do so).
I actually found being diagnosed with – albeit thankfully comparatively mild – ishooz to be quite helpful. That moment when I went, “OH! Well, that makes sense!” has helped quite a lot in the two or three years since the quack made the call.
Having said that, the most annoying part of my condition – cyclothymia, mental health fans – is that my downs result in me stopping exercising and putting weight on. Stupid, really, because exercise is the one thing which I find most guaranteed to send the black dog running for the woods with his tail up his arse.
So I’ve been considering a talking therapy to try and break that cycle. Worth doing? I’ve only been down the exercise/drugs route so far.
In short, Dougie, I hope permanent change is possible. I’m about to have another go at shifting the final couple of stone – so far am 3ish stone down from my heaviest six years ago, and I really don’t want to have another January where I find that my love handles have reclaimed two of the three steps forward I’ve taken.
Incidentally, does anyone else find that one of the worst things about having a mental health condition is the feeling of disempowerment that comes with admitting it? The feeling that any genuine strong thoughts or feelings you want to express are invalidated because people will think, “Oh, that’s the mental illness talking”?
It should be freeing, saying, “I’m Bob, and I have a chronic mood disorder”, but it’s not. It’s scary and humiliating.
So I’ve been considering a talking therapy to try and break that cycle. Worth doing?
In my view, yes; but it’s not a quick solution: but what it does do is give you a non-judgemental space where you can say anything you like. This person isn’t your partner, relative or friend: so they’re not going to get upset, offer a quick solution, talk about themselves, judge you or try to fix you. And that’s incredibly valuable. They help you to find your own solutions (or at least, the best ones do.)
But depending on your personality it can take you a while to truly open up so it can be a long-haul job, really, unless you go for CBT. So decide on the approach you might like; not all approaches suit everyone: http://www.bacp.co.uk/ is quite helpful.
I actually almost physically crave that kind of opportunity sometimes, but I also worry it’d be a bit dangerous: when I’m on a downswing my main feeling is this sort of clotted fury – I’m not sad, I’m ANGRY – which I know is pure chemistry, and I wonder if letting it have its head almost validates it. If that makes any sense at all. I almost don’t want to give it the respect of listening to it!
Yes, I do know what you mean and I feel similarly but maybe the fear of expressing these things magnifies them. Paradoxically I think letting these feelings out gives them less power. They don’t kill you; they pass; they become bearable.
And knowing they’re chemistry (just like panic attacks are) is helpful also.
I have the opposite problem to you in your comment above: my four closest friends (to different degrees) know about this stuff and largely the response I get is ‘but you’re fine’ and ‘there’s nothing wrong with you’. Which is meant kindly, and is meant to be helpful, but slightly…I dunno, alienating.
Ha, I recognise that. My friends, most of them know but some don’t, and several reactions were like, “Oh, you don’t have anything wrong with you, you’re great”. And that made me feel quite lonely because I realised how secret really large areas of myself are. I love my friends so much, but all they often really saw was jolly old Bob, cracking wise and forgetting what he’s had for breakfast.
Weirdly, I think the Afterword knew those secret parts of me better than anyone. My friends never see the part of me that chokes with fury and wants a fight with anyone, on any subject. This place saw it. I had to take a long break because I read my posts back to myself and saw this horrendous balrog, desperate to start on people and win. Only my parents, my sister and my wife had ever seen him, I think. I can’t stand the fucker.
No ad hominem attacks, please.
Beer / monitor interface!
I can’t stand the fucker.
Yes similarly I can’t stand the ‘mad’ bit of me but I think you can get to a point where it becomes an accepted and managed (and forgiven) part of you and you make peace with it; and even give it an ironic smile: ah, here you are again, you mad fucker, why have you popped up today?
BTW, thanks Ruby. You’ve convinced me to reopen communication with a therapist I approached a while back.
🙂 Cool, hope it leads to progress, however defined!!
Hi.
When I logged on a few minutes ago I intended to divulge a little of my struggles with depression and my half-arsed and failed attempts to cope with it.
The OP prompted me to post on the site again after a prolonged absence.
Now as I see the blinking cursor my mind has blanked leaving me struggling to find anything even vaguely insightful to add.
I can only wish all good luck and I hope you find the answers. I never have.
Nice to have you back, Pence, for whatever reason.
Yes, likewise – good to know you’re still around.
Cheers @bargepole.
Thanks @moose-the-mooche.
That’s cool pencilsqueezer. Part of me thinks that maybe accepting my depressive personality for what it is might paradoxically bring me more happiness / contentment / peace of mind than constantly seeing myself as ‘broken’ in some way. But I’m going to carry on with the hypnotherapy in as open-minded a state as I can and will let y’all know how I get on.
My sincerest best wishes @dougiej in your quest for wholeness.
I’ve struggled with crippling shyness and an overwhelming feeling of unworthiness for as long as I can remember.
Over the years I’ve developed some coping strategies and built a pretty strong shell around myself by applying them. This shell is now so bright and shiny that most people I meet would be hard pressed to see it for the charade it is.
The only drawback is the severe bouts of depression that settle upon me unannounced from time to time. These bouts can last from a few days to weeks.
The worst it has ever been in terms of longevity was when it settled in for six years in the 1980s. Every time the black dog appears now it brings with it the fear that it will never end.
This latest bout has been on going since the middle of April I think. I get muddled when in the throws so it may have been May? I simply don’t know.
My coping strategies are in place and working as they always do so I am coping with it but my mind is not a fun place at the moment.
I have tried medications in the past. They are not for me. They blunt my focus particularly my creative focus. This just makes me feel more anxious and frankly frightened that my urge to paint will leave me and not return.
I have come to accept that from time to time I am going to get depressed, although I prefer to call it a period of sadness.
I don’t know if my creative nature is intimately entwined with my shyness and the resultant sadness. I guess that’s a chicken or egg situation. I do know that I don’t really want to know the reason for my desire to paint. I don’t think it’s too wise to examine that impulse deeply. It may diminish its power. The thought of that yet again makes me fearful.
I know that my ‘problem’ can make me difficult company from time to time. I really don’t enjoy being problematic.
I just can’t help it and feel terribly bad about being that way. My profound apologies to anyone who feels I’ve been unreasonable. I’m really not like that inside. I’m a big softy really who just wants to be liked.
Great to see you back, Pencil.
You are something of an enigma. When your mood is at its blackest, you produce the most beautiful, spectacularly coloured, heart-lifting art. One of your latest pieces, Blizzard, is a perfect example. It sings with colour. If I had the means to post a picture, I would do so right now.
Keep strong, my friend.
Thanks @tiggerlion.
I think the palettes I select are partly a subconscious compensationary reflex.
My colour choices are far more complex to me. Colour has been developed along with a myriad of other aspects as a highly personalized and very difficult to articulate visual language.
Colour is very symbolic. Each colour carries a subtext which alters and mutates when used in conjunction with other colours + form + texture + scale.
I am also quietly obsessed with edges.
I do make very dark charcoal drawings but these are private and will never be shown. They are disturbing.
@dougiej Yes, I think seeing yourself as ‘broken’ can be difficult, as it perhaps presupposes you can be ‘fixed’ and even that there is such a state as ‘fixed’.
But you may find ways to live with aspects of yourself and accept them as part of yourself whilst managing and maybe changing the things that can be changed.
I am absolutely not saying I am there yet but maybe a few steps closer.
yep. moving a bit further along the continuum is a reasonable, achievable aspiration I feel…
Did a series of counselling sessions after being diagnosed with clinical depression.
Would agree with what has been said above, being able to talk with a completely objective observer was exactly what I needed, although it was pretty tough, but going onto some anti depressants at the same time helped level the peaks and troughs.
The one thing you don’t get is ‘answers’, i.e. the counsellor will pretty much bounce any questions back to you, but ultimately all part of the process – can be pretty frustrating at first but keep at it if this is the route you take
I’d definitely say that it worked.
Also did a course of hypnotherapy for fear of flying, which was also really good for general relaxation and being able to take a step back if required.
Went from literally walking out of an airport and abandoning a holiday because I couldn’t get on a plane, to being able to get a flight on my own to Bilbao for a long weekend.
All the best
I’ve written about my struggles,and the intense therapy I had, on this site (and the previous incarnations.) @dougiej there is no quick fix but I found the therapy incredibly helpful and life-affirming. It also gave me some mental exercises that I still use, some 8 years on, when I feel the walls closing in. The whole thing hinges around the therapist. My wonderful lady was so perfect for me – quiet, concise, inclusive, fun. I was so scared. So scared. By the third session, I couldn’t wait to go back. The final (9th) session (if I find the link when I wrote about it, I’ll post it further down) was the most important thing that I have ever done or has ever happened to me. It hasn’t resolved all of my problems, there are still a few of the buggers lingering, but it has made me understand how my brain works, how my mental health affects my life.
I wish you nothing but good luck. It is a tough thing to go through but it is the right thing to do. You owe it to yourself. None of us should have to suffer this shitty condition.
Can’t track down the piece I wrote about my therapy, but here is the one about when the whole thing started. It might ring a few bells….
The day started……..well, unlike any other, before or since, frankly. The early morning, late September sunlight streamed through the open bathroom window. Onto my face. On the floor. I squinted at the light. I opened my mouth, dry and rough. It felt like something had died in it. I suspect that it tasted like it, too. I lifted my head and quickly lowered it back down again. It throbbed. A lot. I rolled over onto my back. I was dressed in the clothes I had been wearing when I had left the house, the night before. Something hurt. A lot. I pulled myself up, hanging onto the edge of the bath, into a sitting position. I twisted round so that my back was against the side of the bath. I sat with my eyes closed, my chest heaving as I breathed heavily from the effort. After a moment, I opened my eyes and looked at my watch. It was nearly 6.30 am. My mind scrambled around for something, wading through a thick soup of mush, sludge and fog. Slowly, eventually, it found what it was looking for. The date. The 30th of September 1974. It took another few seconds for the sludge in my head to work out what that date meant. Finally, it pushed the thought to the front of my head, knocked on the door, and walked in. Today was my 18th birthday.
The door handle turned. I heard my Dad grunt and go back to his bedroom. Shit. It was Monday and Dad was getting ready for work. I stood up and listened at the door. Quiet. If he was still in his bedroom I might make it across the landing to the bedroom I shared with my brother. I unlocked the door, quietly. I realised that I had to make it sound like a routine trip to the bathroom, so I flushed the toilet, opened the door, took the one step to the bedroom door, opened it and was behind it, closed, breathing heavily, in about three seconds. I got into bed and pulled the blankets up to my chin, covering my mud-stained clothes. I heard him walk down the landing and go into the bathroom. Heard him pissing, flushing, shaving, brushing, rinsing, humming, much like I did every morning. When he came out of the bathroom he opened my bedroom door. He gazed into the gloom.
“Niall,” he whispered. A few seconds passed.
“Niall,” he whispered, more urgently. I opened my eyes.
“Morning.” I mumbled.
“What time did you get in?” he whispered.
“Didn’t notice,” I lied. He tutted.
“Happy birthday.” he whispered. I grinned. He closed the door. My left knee was really sore. I sat on the side of the bed and undressed. When I pulled down my jeans I could see that my knee had swelled to about three times it’s normal size. I put on my pyjamas and got back into bed.
I slept until midday. When I woke up the room was empty. Kev had left for work. I could hear the faint sound of the radio downstairs. Mum was singing along with Karen Carpenter. I stared up at the ceiling. Two days before, I had lain here, on a Saturday afternoon, with Angie, my girlfriend, beside me. We were both fully dressed, Foxtrot by Genesis was on the small stereo. I had suddenly been overcome by a sense of foreboding. A sense of doom. I became aware that I couldn’t see out of the corner of my eyes, that my vision had become restricted, like I was a race-horse, wearing blinkers. Immediately, I was terrified. I started to cry. Angie sat up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking into my eyes. My tears turned to sobs. She hugged me, holding me tight as my shoulders shook. I couldn’t stop. The sobs got worse and I began to cry out loud, like those poor mothers on The News that have lost a child in some bombing, some disaster, some terrible accident. I cried like that. Loudly. Angie pulled away, looking at me with a terrible terror in her eyes. Suppers Ready came to an end but I wasn’t hearing it anyway. I was lost down some long, dark tunnel. I couldn’t see any light. It was cold, utterly black and completely terrifying. It still is, nearly 40 years later.
Finally, the sobbing stopped. The pillow was sopping wet, tears and snot soaking into the pillow-case. Angie wiped my face, fear in her young eyes.
“What happened?” she whispered. I couldn’t reply. I didn’t know the answer to her question.
“Niall, what’s wrong?” she asked. I fumbled around for a response.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“What of?” she asked.
“I’m scared of being 18.” I said. And it was true. I was. I was scared of something that I didn’t understand. Scared of growing up. Scared of responsibility. Scared of life. But that wasn’t the full answer. That wasn’t the full story. The problem was, I didn’t know what had just happened. Now? Forty years on? Oh, yes, I know now. I know that the vice-like grip of depression had just revealed itself and taken hold of my heart. I know that the long, scarily dark tunnel, a landscape so suffocating and terrifying, would figure many, many more times in my life, over the next forty years. I know now that mental illness began, at that moment, in a pool of tears, on my bed, two days before my 18th birthday.
I dressed and went downstairs. Mum looked up from the newspaper she was reading at the kitchen table. She smiled. Oh, God, I loved it when she smiled at me. The whole world lit up.
“Good afternoon,” she said, grinning. She got up and hugged me, kissing my cheek.
“Happy birthday.” She pulled back from the embrace, looking into my eyes.
“Where did you get to last night?” she asked.
“Chris’s” I lied. Actually I had no idea if it was a lie or not. I didn’t remember where I had ended up. Hell, it had been a Sunday night, so the pubs shut early anyway. I just knew that it had been almost 4am when I had fallen over on the doorstep, trying to get my key in the front door. About the only thing I could remember about the night was lying on my back, on the step, and, for some inexplicable reason, looking at my watch.
The rest of the day passed in a lovely fog of presents, food, laughter, noise, music and, when Dad finally got home, a glass of Guinness with him. I am one of six kids, born to a proud Northern Irish father, a mother from London and a happy, sunny, wonderful childhood. Both of them are dead and I miss them every day. And I am a person gripped by mental illness. Gripped by a Black Dog. Gripped by depression.
Of course you can change and change dramatically. I’ve been a trustee, since its inception a decade ago, of a Glasgow charity that helps addicts and alcoholics to overcome their addictions. It’s an abstinence programme based on the 12 steps and with links to AA and NA. It’s based in Glasgow and it’s free. It was set up specifically to help those who wished to overcome their addictions, but could not afford private rehab.
Thanks to the dedication of the staff and the determination to change of the addicts, it has been the most enormous success. The utter transformations in lives has been astounding. Many hundreds have been given their lives and their dignity back. They all do it one day at a time.
See that voice that whispers in your ear that you’re a worthless piece of shit? That voice is a liar.
The first time I was diagnosed with depression was 1989, but I had feelings of hopelessness ever since my childhood.
Sress/anxiety/depression/low self esteem/self loathing have been part of my life as long as I can remember. For years I hated myself, & although I was happily married to a gorgeous woman,
(Trust me, my late wife Karen was seriously attractive – I was punching above my weight big style), my default state of mind was that I was sad fat & lonely because I deserved to be. Self loathing & low self esteem were always with me & for those who have never suffered from this, let me tell you it is fucking horrible.
This site (in 3 different incarnations) has been helpful, there seems to be an inclusive atmosphere which I find reassuring.
I have read the posts on this thread with interest, & even if I don’t always understand some of the comments/language (REBT anyone?). I suppose that what I am saying is that I feel comfortable here, it is a place that certainly means more to me than the ex Royal navy/Armed forces sites I belong to.
Something that has affected me WRT my self worth/belief issues is my weight. I must have put on close to 4 stone in the last 12 months or so, & my constant companion Black dog is at my side telling me to “shovel it in fatty” & so the whole cycle continues.
I was 59 a couple of months ago, & am an insulin dependant diabetic, so losing weight is a huge factor – it is no longer about appearance/vanity, it is literally a life & death issue for me.
Many years ago (1992) the ship I was serving on was deploying to the far east for 8 months. The ships programme included 17 days in Hong Kong, so Karen & I booked a holiday & she flew out to join me for 2 weeks, this coincided with our 10th wedding anniversary, so things were looking good. With one exception – my weight.
In desperation I went to our local yellow pages & rang a hypnotherapist, went & had a free consultation & decided to have a couple of sessions – the results were amazing, & by the time Karen arrived in Honky fid, I was just over 12 stone, having shed over a quarter of my body weight, I looked & felt wonderful.
It didnt last, & gradually the weight crept back on, & as it did so my demons returned.
What I am trying to say is that as far as I can remember my weight/mental health have been directly related.
Nearly finished – I dont know anyone – male OR female who has had more issues with weight related self esteem as I have.
I am going to finish now, please excuse my lack of coherence/writing skills, but I felt that this was something that I needed to post. There is more to tell, but TBPH, I have had enough of talking about my demons (certainl for now), but will try to keep up with this thread, & maybe chip in again.
Thanks for reading.
Ah sorry Jack: REBT is ‘rational emotive behavior therapy (REBT), the pioneering form of cognitive behavior therapy. REBT is an action-oriented psychotherapy that teaches individuals to identify, challenge, and replace their self-defeating thoughts and beliefs with healthier thoughts that promote emotional well-being and goal achievement.’ (Albert Ellis Institute web-site).
There are far more eloquent expressions of the curse of the black dog above than I can manage. I believe my deep seated anxieties stem from my school days, I’ve always felt I was swimming against the tide. In my teens/twenties I could lapse into deep seated depressions at the drop of a hat, I could feel the change happening, the longest bout lasted a year. The feeling just came over me and hung around forever. I didn’t know or understand what depression was in those days. It was an article in the NME of all places that introduced me to the clinical concept of depression. I just thought feeling like that was normal for me, although I had a feeling that I shouldn’t be like that. I existed rather than lived.
Over the years it has never been far away. When I’m up things can get a little manic. Too many key decisions have had to be made when I wasn’t in a proper state to make the right ones. Crippling anxiety became a major issue in my ’40s. It got to the point where I couldn’t socialise, and I had to stop flying after one too many panic attacks. I finally went to see a doctor as, for the first time, I was unable to continue. A combination of counselling, Prozac and CBT helped me on the road to recovery and, slowly, I managed to rebuild my self confidence. It’s always there in the background but I’m stable at the moment.
After last years heart attack, I have tried to adopt a more relaxed, positive outlook to life. I don’t have time now in my ’50s to waste it battling my demons. Admitting I had a problem was a big step to recovery, finally being honest rather than trying to hide my true self was a weight of my shoulders. I was lucky I had supportive colleagues who gave me the space to get well, even if they couldn’t understand what I was going through.
Depression and lack of self esteem are a curse but they don’t make you a bad person. The more people are open about mental health issues the easier it will become to live in society rather than hiding away. Spike Milligan and Winston Churchill were fellow suffers, so I’m in good company.
I’ve often wondered over the years if their is a correlation between depression and being a hard core music fans, is it self therapy, something to sooth a troubled soul?
Answered your own question with that last sentence, @fiction-romantic
Powerful post.
Possibly going to swim against a tide here. I too have had depression. Meds, therapists, none of it worked, and I tried multiple variations. I’ve had it on more than one occasion as well.
I find small wins wherever I can. Find the things I’m good at and do them. Refereeing rugby was for a long time, and still is, lifeline. So was the gym, and playing squash. Recognizing that I was going through a phase and holding on to the thought, however faint, at the back of my head, that this too shall pass. Understanding friends who were open minded and supportive and unquestioning and non judgmental when I needed them to be.
Might not – probably won’t – work for everyone. But I don’t think there is a one size fits all solution to it. But you can develop out of it. I’d recommend ‘Growth Mindset’ – it’s centered largely around intellectual development, but there was real applicability to emotional and psychological growth too.
Yes, I think this is absolutely true: there’s no one-size-fits- all and it takes a bit of experimentation to find what works.
But these are really good points- small wins; and ‘this too shall pass’. Trying to hold on to these two thoughts can be difficult but they are very helpful.
I find writing down small wins helps (and sometimes they are very small): I have a (locked!) journal and I try and write down good things that happen every day.
Everyone’s going to hate me for this and make the fingers-down-throat vom sign – fair enough- but writing down three things you’re grateful for every day, however small, has been shown to help ( from Martin Seligman’s work on happiness).
I kinda hate it because it sounds very Facebook-meme inspirationally trite ( just imagine a sunset behind your words, and/or a flowing-haired lithe girl in a meditative pose, yuk) but it does help a bit.
A friend of mine who had a major depressive episode (she was hospitalised for a while) used to get through the day with the mantra ‘I survived; everyone’s alive’. 🙂
I have nothing to add to this thread, because I’m one of the fortunate ones: I’ve never (as far as I know – others may disagree) suffered from depression, bipolarity, or any other kind of mental impairment. I’ve been miserable, sad, angry…but before long the whatevs kick in and off I go again.
So just wanted to say, what a brave and empathetic mob you all are. That’s all. Have some Deep.
I’ve had two lots of talking therapy and on both occasions they were incredibly successful and made a real difference. In one case, without going into specifics, I left the final session feeling completely unburdened. In the second this was never going to be an option, but the insight and understanding of why I felt like that helped me at least get used to it. I can’t recommend it highly enough and recommend it unhesitatingly.
The points @rubyblue makes are excellent too – I am very aware that my inner dialogue is not something I really want to live with, and a bit more positive thought would be a good thing. I shall investigate!
Careful who you choose or get for your talking: because the NHS is, largely, crap at this, through not seeing it as cost effective, (as in, why waste weeks talking to someone when, if you can chuck enough drugs at someone, one of ’em might stick.) It doesn’t really do it or properly. So you are stuck in yellow pages and recommendations on websites. Some are great, I’ve had experience of a few, both professionally and personally, as a client. A lot less so, spouting the spout rather than digging the dig, allowing an auto-pilot on behalf of the counsellee, which, however intellectually entertaining, is ultimately empty.
Ask around carefully. If you know any psychologists personally, that will automatically rule out their availability, but, because it is a requirement of a trained psychologist to have and maintain personal therapy, they will know who is good or otherwise. Sadly, no such expectation around psychiatrists. Would be a good idea, but they would then tell their NHS bosses to invest in the therapies services they are to short sighted to invest in.
O, re the drugs comment, if or when drugs are mentioned, not knocking their appropriate use. Helped me no end. But not when they are just a short cut, or snake (rather than ladder)
Yes: my experience with the NHS has been similar, sadly. Very hard to access and when you do, the counsellors were crap and psychiatrists very medically-focused (an unfair criticism, perhaps, as that’s their job).
But never had any problems getting repeat prescriptions for drugs, without even being seen.
Even worse for my son. Unless you are in absolutely dire straits (danger to self and/or others), access to children’s services is impossible (demand is just too high; problems too complex).
I found mine through the BACP website; she had a nice profile picture (!) and matched my own philosophy of treatment. So I was lucky; but yes, if you know someone in helpful therapy, get their practitioner to recommend someone.
Sorry Ruby I piled in without reading your post. That is the second time on this thread you have preempted my outpouring of wisdom 😉
😀
Well, great minds and all that! But no need to apologise, reassuring to know that someone else thinks along the same lines. 🙂
I had one via the NHS and one through Relate. Both excellent.
Look for BACP accreditation. They are the ones with the most training. Unfortunately as retropath says, the spotlight within the NHS at least is on something you can measure. Hence the rise of short term (and in my opinion therefore less effective) treatments such as CBT.
The great confidence trick of CBT. This, surprisingly, actually IS, usually, extensively promoted within NHS circles, within crap euphemisms of organisations called such as Healthy Minds. (Coming soon, Live Forever, the palliative care service) Why? Well, it sounds convincing, in that there is the idea that conventional psychotherapies might only explore how you came to be in your hole, but CBT doesn’t care, and gives you the ladder to get out. Yeah, right, but not to not fall into the next hole right in front of you. Sounds good and it is time limited to as few a number of sessions as they can get away with. It’s about as effective as simply drying out an alcoholic, with no aftercare and support. From an addled drunk you have a fit person with a raging thirst. Bits of CBT have a purpose but not as an end all, be all. Buyer beware.
Would also agree with the drugs comment. It can take some time to find something that works, and to learn which side-effects you can live with. But as long as they are a temporary leg-up to help you function adequately so that you can access other help, I think they can be useful.
Agree the NHS services in this area are poor – private is far far superior – have been seeing someone privately for a number of years, which is not cheap but neverheless……
It’s interesting that the two online forums I have frequented most (the other was an Oz science one through which I met She For Whom I Cook) have been populated by interesting, knowledgeable, personable (mostly) people…whom mostly, it’s eventually revealed, are contemplating, undergoing or have undergone therapy, or are on, been on or considering going on antidepressants or some medication….is there some personality type that’s drawn to sites like this one?
Not sure, Sniffyfella. Obviously reading a thread like this one can get the impression that this place is, as you say, “populated by … people whom mostly … are contemplating, undergoing or have undergone therapy” but I wonder if that’s really the case. (Personally speaking, I’m lucky enough to have never suffered from depression, and I suspect that might be true of most here).
Maybe it’s more that incidence of mental illness is very high in the general population? Between 1-3% of people have a mood disorder like mine. Nearly 1 in 20 people worldwide have major depressive disorder (clinical depression). It’s just… really common.
My mate’s a pharmacist and I once had to ask him a question which meant revealing to him that I was on anti-Ds. In his matter-of-fact way he said “don’t worry about any fucking stigma. It’s more a case of who’s not taking them than who is”.
I’ll also recommend this book
I remember asking (some time ago) about learned opinions on Accupuncture, Homeopathy & Hypnotherapy.There may have been other subjects, but I have to say it was some time ago & I can barely remember what I had for my tea.
So, any views (good, bad or otherwise) on Hypnotherapy? What qualifications/ certifications should I be looking for? What professional organisations can I check?
As ever, any/all advice/comments welcome.
Many thanks.
Completely off the top of my head- not really my area. From what I do no is that it can work, but no-one knows why.
I did have hypnotherapy once but he was a very strange man indeed and I couldn’t wait to get out of there, so I kind of faked it. (Not the first time I’ve faked it to quickly get away from a man.) 🙂
So given the lack of regulation in the area, you might want to get a personal recommendation from someone who’s had a good practitioner;maybe someone on here has?
Another approach that hasn’t been mentioned in neuro-linguistic programming (NLP)- be aware, many charlatans out there. But has some success in re-programming the language one uses about oneself with the aim of subsequently changing behaviour. Paul McKenna is a big fan but try not to let that put you off. 🙂 I am not hugely convinced (very sketchy research base; but then again, so have all approaches) and it can be expensive but perhaps worth investigation.
Given that my first hypnotherapy session is not for a couple of weeks it may seem premature to be saying this but hey – think of it as a semi-public journal!
@RubyBlue – re: ‘faking it’ – I know exactly what you mean. I did this during my initial consultation – ‘think of the worst thing that could happen / has happened – put it inside that frame on the wall – imagine it spinning – changing colour – zooming into space etc. I nodded along when the therapist asked if I could feel anything. In reality, I was 100% (self) conscious throughout the exercise.
But time will tell…
I sometimes wonder if I was expecting too much of it- y’know the whole McKenna ‘doing the can-can on stage whilst eating an onion’. Perhaps sometimes it’s just a slightly altered state and maybe so subtle that it works/hits the subconscious without us realising? But I don’t know.
I think it’s definitely true that some people are more suggestable than others (often the people who think they’re not!)
*know, not ‘no’.
NLP? Did some training in it.
It’s bollox.
Might work for the extremely easily swayed by suggestion.
Hypnotherapy? Provided the accreditation is oK, maybe with your already BACP sanctioned practitioney, yep, go for it.
Powerful stuff.