by spiderwebb » Tue Oct 09, 2018 2:43 pm
When I look back, hill walking for me has been the one constant throughout life, something I have always enjoyed, and I guess part of that is because it is one thing I have had control over. The same cannot be said for other life events including depression.
My first encounters with clinical depression were back in the late 1990s and again in 2010, and more recently it has been a feature of the last 5 or 6 years, on and off, but never really leaving me, and as I write this on medication, counselling and off work.
I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. You can enjoy a moment, smile whenever needed, become a master at hiding it, because its so much easier to say ‘you’re fine’ when you are not. I can overthink every situation to the point of extreme anxiety about going anywhere, wanting to cancel, but the fear of letting some-one down is also overwhelming, to the point of never putting myself first. Staying home is the safe option.
I try and reflect on my hill days, especially those where I have been battling the elements or being relied upon to get us all down safely. It gives me something that I haven’t found elsewhere in life, but it too can suffer from a loss of motivation when depression is at its worst. It affects all aspects of one’s life.
The overriding feeling is one of worthlessness, that you have no place in life, no purpose in this world, even to family and friends. Compliments, how much you are valued, liked and loved etc. can reduce me to tears, as it is impossible to process such emotions. Its as if the emotions of happiness, that someone cares, of love no longer exist, somehow disconnected or sub consciously switched off as protection following some previous event. The ability to be close to someone is almost impossible, whilst at the same time having a huge capacity for empathy, maybe too much, a desire or need to help anyone, but myself.
The first step is recognising that you are unwell, there is no shame, although it will feel like it. My last two instances where I sought help, were desperate, and I recognised it, thankfully. I have written good bye letters, had a length of rope to hand, or woken up on the kitchen floor after a drinking spree (and I’m only a social drinker). It is very hard to seek help, not least as you have that ‘barrier’ in trying to explain to doctor or counsellor what thoughts are in your head, an emotional feat in itself. You only know that the thoughts are irrational, you can even understand that, even if you don’t feel it, that loss of feeling again, the inability to process anything good.
You can have days where you simply sit and stare, even just popping out for shopping is too much. It can reduce a confident person to a shell, existing but not living. Your emotions will be heightened, to an extreme, especially on anything sad, a film, a song or a memory. You will often look back to happier times and just cry, unable to look forward, as you see no future.
I can relate to loss from suicide, I can understand the feelings of intense pain in the mind, the constant tears, that there is nothing left, no reason to keep going and for that alone it is not a selfish act. It is a permanent solution, but a permanent solution to a temporary problem. A problem that can be helped, the first step is recognising it, to seek help, whether that be medical or situational or both.
The cliché that you cannot begin to love anyone until you love yourself is true. Finding that self-worth is key, and for me that can but not always, come from the mountains, that ability to take myself out, be self-reliant, overcome challenges of route or weather and in some cases life or death situations and for those brief moments put all other things into perspective. The feelings of low self esteem or mood may always be there, I have said it elsewhere that if in a serious situation on the hills I would die trying, to save someone else or a canine companion, so I guess I still have some way to go.
For anyone reading this, please don’t suffer, alone, for you are not, others understand, as I do, it is an illness like any other, maybe not visibly, but help is there, you just have to accept it before you can ask.