My journey - the abridged version!

I am a born fighter. I keep telling myself this. 

Having had a pretty hairy start in life, I had to be. But my early years are not of consequence here, it’s my late teens where it all started to get interesting. I started showing signs of what I now know was depression. Though it was not until whilst at university this was officially diagnosed. 

The late diagnosis is not unusual. So many people do not get a proper diagnosis of their mental illness. That is no slight on GPs or any other members of the health services, it’s just a complicated and messy situation. There are too many people waiting for support in a system that is already overly stretched. However, I was lucky. Every time I was in crisis I was able to get the support I needed. 

After my diagnosis I spent most of the 1990s on various types of anti-depressant medication, drinking far too much and eventually becoming suicidal. I now realise that the drink probably added a whole other level of ‘interest’ to this already horrific situation. I am now left wondering if the drink was what actually tipped me over the edge. 

I was referred to the mental health unit in Sheffield in around 1995. Whilst I was not an inpatient, I had to attend several times a week to make sure I was no longer suicidal and taking my meds. My mental health nurse Mohammed, was of the few people who kept me sane at that time. The unit was a 20 min walk from where I lived, but even that was an issue. I was incredibly paranoid, scared that people were going to try and kill me, or were watching me. I am often surprised that I got to the appointments at all. 

I eventually settled on Prozac, which I took for a long while. I really got on with it. OK, at first it was super scary. I used to lose track of where I was. One minute I was locking my door, the next I was staring at loaves of bread in Gateway (showing my age there!) This is a common side effect, which did go away. But for a few weeks, it was a nightmare. Like being pissed without the booze! 

I don’t honestly remember much more until I moved over to Manchester in 1999. One marriage down (I am on the third btw), off the meds, but still drinking like there was no tomorrow. I hoped for a new and better life. 

I remember one hefty relapse in 2002 where I tried to go back on medication, but it was not to be. Prozac was no longer prescribed and I was given an alternative. All I can remember was you had to take it twice a day, and it was horrendous! I was like a zombie. There was no way I was going to work as an analyst in a massive tech company on that! 

Since that date, I’ve not been medicated for either depression, anxiety or stress (which came later). 

I think that it was around the time of my last major depressive relapse, that I was referred for CBT. A therapy which worked really well at that time of crisis. To this day I still use the two questions I was given - Is this my fault? And do I give a shit? OK, that’s my version and I am sticking with it!  

However, the joys of being in a male-dominated and increasing stressful environment took their toll. Whilst my depression seemed to be manageable, it had been overtaken by chronic stress. I had many panic attacks in the toilets of the office, to the point where I was convinced I’d actually die in a cubicle, alone.

In the last 6 years of corporate life, I was signed off with increasingly severe bouts of stress three times. All by the same doctor! Eventually, he bluntly asked me what on earth I was doing in the same job.  I couldn’t really answer that. 

No Matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop being stressed. I was meditating like a woman possessed and I was queen of self-care. But the issues that were making me ill we never addressed. At this time, although things like Mental Health First AId were in place, they were not something that our company bought into. I’ve since found out they have an MHFA person. Oh, the irony. 

Now I am in a much better place. I’ve been self-employed for three years. I love it. I now have the freedom to choose who I work with and how I work. It makes a massive difference. My journey is far from over, but these days I am in recovery. I don’t take medication, I take each day as it comes and I ride the waves. I’ve often been heard saying that I enjoy the ride. People think I am slightly crackers, but I do. I see just how far I’ve come. If you had said to me in 1995 that I’d be running a business, setting up a CIC to support people with their mental health. Well, I don’t think I could repeat what I would have said! 

But here I am. I hope you’ll join me for the ride.