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As it's Mental Health Awareness Week, I've decided to share what happened to me, and the mental health issues it led to. (CW: violence, captivity, mental illness) (1/25)
Just over 10 years ago, I was the victim of a violent crime. Thankfully I was not harmed, but I was restrained and held captive for a short amount of time, and threatened with violence involving powertools. (2/25)
(For clarity, I'm happy to discuss the nature of this crime in person, but for reasons that are hopefully obvious, I'd prefer to keep it vague online. Nevertheless, real-life Twitter friends can verify that this, as nasty and unreal as it sounds, did indeed take place). (3/25)
In the aftermath, I experienced my first real struggle with mental health. During the next few days, I coped as best I could; I cried, I ranted, and one night, filled with rage, I even drove out into the countryside and screamed at the fields. (4/25)
Despite all these feelings, what scared me the most was that I no longer felt joy. I felt absolutely no excitement or interest in anything, and had no idea how to do so again. (5/25)
I soon realised that, in order to cope with what was happening to me when the crime was taking place, my brain had shut off any and all emotions. And now I had no idea how to get the good ones back. (6/25)
I clearly remember it hit me when I was eating this burger, and deriving absolutely no pleasure from it whatsoever. I love my food, especially meat - but this? Nothing. Nor with anything else I normally enjoyed, got excited about, or looked forward to. (7/25)
I had no clue why, or how, or where to start to get those feelings back. Would I ever feel them again? That was scary. I contemplated a life without joy, and pretty soon found myself wondering what the point would be. (8/25)
With this realisation that things weren't right came another fear. Friends, family, people I loved - what if they didn't know how to talk to someone with a mental health problem? If I was nuts, what if nobody wanted to know me? (9/25)
What if, as a result, they just drifted away, to be with people that didn't make them feel awkward or nervous? This sounds a ridiculous notion to me now, but at the time, in my twisted haze of post-traumatic stress and fear, it was very real. (10/25)
So I very quickly decided to act as though nothing was wrong; to try to pretend everything was fine, and that I was back to normal. Only, what I was doing was trying to do an impression of me as I had been before. (11/25)
Of course, this didn't work. I still wasn't deriving any enjoyment from the things that should have made me happy. It was, to quote Rik Mayall, one long collage of grey interspersed with visits to the lav. (12/25)
I can actually remember very little about that time. I was clearly going through the motions. And no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape a darkness, just on the edge of vision; a sense that something wasn't right, and that I didn't know how to fix it. (13/25)
It'll come as no surprise to you, reader, that, while I thought I was doing a very good impression of myself, in fact I wasn't. Thankfully, after about six months, my then-girlfriend (now wife) gently persuaded me to speak to a professional. (14/25)
If she hadn't, I have no idea how long this would have gone on for, but I suspect it wouldn't have ended well. I was trying to put a lid on a boiling pot and forget about it; one day, I suspect it would have boiled over. (15/25)
I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with depression. I also believe I was suffering from mild PTSD, as I experienced minor panic attacks triggered by scenes of captivity on TV, though this was never professionally validated. (16/25)
I visited a counsellor every week for six months, and learned a lot about myself. It was very hard work, but it helped me to understand not only the immediate effects of the crime itself, but the neuroses the after-effects had tapped into. (17/25)
I also gained enough of a toolkit to help me understand what was going on in my brain and sort things out whenever I might need to. I think, in fact, I actually ended up mentally healthier, and more in touch with myself, than before. (18/25)
I'm lucky that I had a fantastic partner by my side who helped me through. And in the end, of course, when I did tell people close to me that I wasn't right, and I was going to counselling, they didn't push me away. They wanted to help. (19/25)
And that, really, is why I wanted to tell this story; to let you know that if you're battling with your mental health and worried people won't accept you for it, that may not be the case. It certainly wasn't for me. (20/25)
I'm also lucky that I had a positive outcome. But having felt that darkness within arm's reach, I realise how easy it'd be for it to envelope you. For so many people, that's what happens. (21/25)
My experience was 'acute', and brought on by a traumatic event. For many people, mental illness is more chronic, and may have no discernible source. Either way, it's an awful thing, and I'm so glad we're talking about it more, and removing that stigma. (22/25)
If my experience sounds familiar, please, seek help. You don't need to go on pretending, in the hope people won't notice. You don't need to worry that people won't want to know, or help. (23/25)
Most of the time, they do. And by seeking help, you can find your way back to you. Real, actual you - not a version you're pretending to be.(24/25)
You can find help and support at https://www.thecalmzone.net , speak to someone at https://www.qwell.io/ , or call Samaritans on 116 123. Please don't hesitate a moment more. (25/25)
