Ending mental health stigma
The Gazette recently published the stories of Daniel, TJ and Haley, who spoke about their journey with mental illness, it was inspiring stuff. Part of The Gazette’s End The Stigma campaign, it was so inspiring that I was urged to write about my own journey with mental health. For me it’s been a journey with stress and anxiety, and I’ve worked hard to make sure it never holds me back. In the UK right now 1 in 4 deal with major to minor mental health issues, from phobias to PTSD, depression to panic disorder, burnout to loneliness. But we can help each other. It’s good to share and learn from each other and over the last 20 years I’ve learnt why.
I was about 14 when I think it became clear I could feel random anxiety — but it was tricky to deal with, as it wasn’t obvious to most people that I might be frequently anxious inside because I wasn’t shy. I naturally rarely looked anxious, especially in comparison with my peers. You’d of been more likely to find me dancing to Footloose in the corner than looking anxious. I went to a weekend stage school from the age of around 11, I was the class joker, and starred in all the school plays. I learnt how to bury anxiety like you bury stage fright — and so I think that my anxiety was missed when looking from the outside. It surfaced as things like panic attacks on the bus to school, or flipping out at a teacher and running away — perceived as a mixture of tiredness and bad behaviour. I was a keen Scout, always camping out in fields, but I suffered massive homesickness — all whilst putting a brave young cheeky face on it. And that kinda worked for a while, I learnt to handle my nerves and handle life’s pressures — when they were the pressures of a 14 year old. When I became a young adult, the pressures grew too.
I’m lucky. At that point, I discovered two amazing mental first aid techniques. The first was the miracle of modern science, and the wonder that is a blood pressure tablet, taken when feeling the strain. Steadying butterflies and holding off unnecessary pressure. They are quite literally, chill pills, and I couldn’t be more grateful for modern medicine, or indeed the NHS.
The other is learning when to take time to recover and rest. You can’t pour from an empty cup. From mindfulness (both British summer pub garden style and US yoga mat style) to wine-fullness (white or red) it’s nice to rest, reward and recuperate. You work and behave better when you are well rested, there is a reason that holiday pay is a thing.
Sometimes things do still overwhelm of course — but I spot the signs better and know what to do to crack on with getting better, so that I can crack on with being better. Fortunately the techniques above mean that I’m pretty uninhibited by my current mental health and for that I’m always grateful. Over the last 18 years I’ve learnt how to control it sensibly and I admire anyone else who manages to do the same. We can help each other with mental health, and we can all learn from each other’s experiences. We are all the same inside our skulls, the same red blob made up of 100 trillion connections that lead us all down very similar paths worth discussing over a pint. So if you ever feel like your journey is a journey you are taking alone, think again.
