Accepting the mental health long game

I’ve wanted to write this for some weeks now, but held back for fear of it coming across as trite amongst the mass of advice people have been offering about how to cope with the various challenges many of us now find ourselves facing. This is not another one of those pieces.

But more than that, I also needed to feel confident the way I was feeling wasn’t just a flash in the pan. That it would be sustained for more than a couple of days and I could say to myself, hand on heart, it was real.

Let me explain...

False dawns aplenty

As some people reading this will know from my previous writing on mental health, a combination of clinical perfectionism, low-self-esteem and a relentlessly pressured working environment caused me to have a breakdown in 2017.

I got to the point at which I couldn’t remember what happiness, presence of mind or a sense of achieving anything of note felt like.

After several months of being signed off work, a phased return and attempts to retain some of the balance I’d found through therapy and medication, I left my job in December 2018.

There was no way it was going to work for me if I stayed put, but my confidence had been shot to pieces and I had neither the belief nor energy to focus on what I wanted to do next. Having been asked for support by a couple of businesses, I started working as a freelance consultant in January.

It was a move born out of necessity rather than design and it’s taken a good 12 months of happy clients, recommendations and repeat business for me to believe I can do this on an ongoing basis. It’s been far from easy to get to that point.

Going solo

The challenge to my self-belief over the past 18 months has been immense. I was starting from a low point at any rate, so it hasn’t taken much to cause me to wobble along the way, but after a year I started to realise that I could come through the other side of dips.

There was a trough at the end of 2019, when a range of projects were postponed and I brought in next to no money for three months. It led to a rubbish Christmas period, during which I was a grinch and my levels of self- resentment grew rapidly. It wasn't that bad things happened at Christmas, just that I wasn't able to deal with it.

At the end of those three crappy months, I was feeling pretty rotten but I at least had the wherewithal to realise I didn’t want to go through it again the following year. I wanted to mitigate the likelihood of a re-lapse as much as possible, while remaining aware that peaks and troughs of mood would still occur.

Avoiding a repeat performance of Christmas 2019

I thought about what I’d done to try to manage my mental health better, all the changes I’d made – leaving employment, setting up my own business, being at home with my family more, getting a dog, reading again, seeing a therapist weekly, coming off my medication, etc. – the list was not a short one.

I felt I’d done a lot, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed to do something else.

I resolved try something I’d never done before and gave up alcohol, for good.

I was aware that I drank more than I should for years. I liked a pint and I regularly exceeded the recommended intake of units each week. I'd be the guy on WhatsApp rallying troops for a trip to the pub and also the guys feeling groggy on a Saturday on the sidelines of the kids' football match, etc. And all around me I could see countless other people doing likewise. I guess you see what you want to.

But as someone who worked hard and wasn't consuming copious amounts of drink every night, I’d convinced myself I was entitled to it.

And, like millions of other Brits, my social life had been built around decades of meeting friends in the pub. Until that point, I couldn’t begin to imagine how those relationships would pan out if I had to go into social situations as an introvert with low self-esteem and no Dutch courage to get me through or distract me.

But as 2019 projects started to get pushed into 2020, I found myself embracing the festive celebrations with gusto until the big day had come and gone and I was feeling deflated just before New Year.

In a rare moment of clarity – I think I was walking the dog at the time, or possibly out of a run - I realised that for all the enjoyment I might have on an evening, drinking with friends, the day after was problematic.

I’d be in a numbed, foggy place, psychologically. And the more I did that, the more my senses were being blunted and my energy slipping away, leaving me less capable of summoning the energy to run the business or be a good dad, husband, son, brother and friend.

The very thing I thought helped me relax and socialise was in facts the very thing hindering my happiness.

And with that realisation came a choice: Keep doing what I’d always done for years, with a slim chance that I would be able to get through life feeling OK, or stop doing it altogether in the belief that it will help me to do a much better job of dealing with whatever life was going to throw at me and my family.

I went for the latter. And for good measure I resolved to get out running regularly again too, because I knew that was going to be good for the soul too.

Becoming an inadvertent streaker

As I write this today, I have been booze-free for 114 days and I haven’t looked back. In fact, the only reason I know exactly how many days it’s been is because the day before I gave it up, I started running.

I didn’t set out to create a running streak, and I certainly didn’t imagine I could sustain one, but as of today I’ve run 115 consecutive days and that’s something I definitely am counting now.

I have every confidence the booze-free streak will continue indefinitely, but I’ve no idea how much longer my body will let me get away with running every day. Right now, it’s feeling good. I do a minimum of a mile a day, and I‘ve run up to a half marathon on others. I’m just enjoying being in the habit.

But I’m not writing this to tell you how much I’ve run. I’m sharing my experience to illustrate the point that making key decisions, however hard or unrealistic it might seem to be at the time can have a massive positive impact on your mental health. Here are some of the specific things I’ve noticed:

1. I'm OK in the midst of a pandemic

I’m amazed how well I’m coping with everything that is going on right now and that I’ve been able to sustain it.

Previously I would only have experienced this feeling for a day or two before my mood would drop again.

2. I understand it's not personal

I’m fully cognisant of the fact my income is now in a more perilous position than it ever has been because of the financial constraints businesses are facing, but I also recognise decisions to delay projects are not because of me or something I could have done differently.

Previously I would have beaten myself up for failing to get the work in, not truly accepting the macro-economic circumstances we’re facing. But I can now see I’ve been through something like this before, learned invaluable lessons and can see I’ll be stronger in the future because of it. In fact, right now, I’m living proof of it.

3. I'm not a victim

I realise it’s not just me this is impacting, but that lots of other people are in a similar position and that, for someone inclined to see their own failing all too clearly, is actually comforting in a sense. I mentioned this to a few other people over the last week and they all agree.

Previously, I would have only thought in terms of me, the situation I was in and struggled to see beyond that for context. I would not have fully registered the connection.

4. My mood detector is working

I’m now acutely aware that when low mood blips occur, I’m better able to spot and act on the indicators ahead of time and get back on track quicker when I miss them.

Previously I would have missed the signals and been taken out of normal service for days or weeks on end.

Lucky timing

There are countless other positives I’m taking from this experience besides, but I really want to stress that none of this comes easy. It’s not a quick win formula, it’s taken months to truly feel the benefit of my decisions but I am so pleased I did it.

I couldn’t have predicted the pandemic and its effects on our daily lives, but I know I wouldn’t have been able to manage my mental health at this point in time anywhere near as well as I am right now if I hadn’t been realised the need to do more to help myself.

I’m going to sign this off now by saying that if you’re finding things difficult to get your head around now, you’re not alone.

Please talk to your family and your friends and share your concerns and anxieties if you can. And if you can’t do that, seek professional help through therapy or speak to one of the many amazing charities out there, like CALM and Mind.

Look for help and guidance. You don’t need to suffer in silence. And, above all, know that you and your personal happiness matter and the positive actions you take now can have long-term, powerful implications for the way you feel in the future.