On days like these…

The term Mental Health is a well-used phrase these days.  Thankfully the cliched stoic, Australian common in the writings of Lawson and Patterson and in the deeply related image of the Bronzed Aussie appears to be going the way of the Dodo. Most of the people I know are beautiful in their fallibility even if they don’t accept it. They know that it is definitely ‘okay to not be okay’ and that reaching out is the best thing you can do.

The trouble here though is that when you are waist deep in depression, it is not always easy to recognise it. The trouble is that even when you do realise it, when in fact you see it coming, the last thing you want is to communicate…with literally anybody. Who knows why?  Fear of judgement maybe, exhaustion perhaps, not wanting to seem weak, being Australian even.

That’s why initiatives like ‘Are you okay?’ are so important.  Sometimes your loved ones and colleagues will recognise the struggle in you before you do yourself.   Sometimes a gentle word from a trusted friend will be enough to get you through, to break the cycle of pain, to smash the brittle shell in which you hide. Believe me, you don’t have to solve the problem, just be there with a coffee. Talking about it saves lives.

How do I know?  I have Major Depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s not easy to write it down, but it is important. Sometimes my ill health was brought on by external triggers that in my mind justify mental illness as a response, but the truth is I’m kidding myself. The truth is, that whatever the reason for your pain, its okay to be in pain.  Just tell someone you trust if you can.

If you are lucky enough to be content and happy, then let your people know that you care. Be their soft place to fall.

I wrote the piece below in an attempt to get through a dark day.  Writing anything would often lead me to the light. I didn’t write it with publishing in mind and so it’s a bit self-indulgent. That said, I think it offers an insight into why asking others if they’re okay is so important.  Oh, and yes, I’m okay.

On days like these

On days like these the cloud cover sets firm long before I wake.  With days like these, the fog surrounds me before my feet are on the ground.  I know it will be a battle to put one foot in front of the other all day. I know the heaviness inside my mind will be hard to shift.

There will be no sunshine to brighten my path…….on days like these.

The fog that sets has a thickness to it that sits just behind my eyes and in the back of my mind. It forces the screams and the tears just below the surface, at the back of my throat, like a criminal holding an untrustworthy associate’s head violently below the waterline. Grief struggles vainly for breath.  It wants to be free of this flesh and bone cage that holds it securely, but it hasn’t the strength.

These days I recognize the signs quickly.  I know that I will likely spend my time in that hastily made fallout shelter at the back of my mind.  Simple tasks of survival will fill all but the smallest parts of my consciousness. Breathing, meditation, avoidance of people…sleep.

Sometimes tough days close in predictably, like weather systems.  You sense them moving in from a long way off like low-pressure.  You know they are about, so you take precautions.  Batten down the hatches.

At other times, days like these move in overnight while you sleep. No reason for their sudden presence, no obvious pattern, catching you tired and unaware.  Unprepared, exposed and alone, you rise already in retreat. The battlefront has moved so fast that you find yourself in enemy territory before you’re even fully conscious.

Common sense tells you to get up and run, keep busy, make connection. Deep down it whispers wisdom to you, but not loud enough.  The sadness barks out orders that boom and echo inside your brain, drowning every voice but its own. “All is lost, all is lost”.

So, you fall to your knees in surrender. Bury your head in darkness. Allow the fog to overrun you to the point that all hope of escape or rescue is lost in darkness. Unable to cry, unable to grieve, you lay defeated in the barren field of your own mind before the morning sun has even risen…that’s what happens on days like these. That’s what happens even before the first foot is on the floor.

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