El Lukio
01-31-2014, 01:48 AM
Ok, so here it goes. This is my story. I’m going to try and write down exactly how I feel. This may be a long one as I have never done anything like this before and I’m hoping that it will help me to get these things out of my brain and into words. I hope it can also help others relate to what is going on for them. Anyway, here goes…
I have always been edgy and nervy but until recently, within the last year, I was always able to cope with these feelings. I could deal with them effectively in my head and then compartmentalise them, file them away. I never gave stress or worry too much thought and was ale to lead a happy and fulfilled life.
Something changed almost instantly. Whether it was turning 30 (I’m now 32) and realising that I perhaps wasn’t an invincible 20-something any more, or a minor health scare that really has had a lasting effect on my mental wellbeing. My family grew and so did my responsibilities. I now had to make sure I could provide for them; put a roof over their heads, food on the table and clothes on their backs. I became overwhelmingly obsessed that something bad was going to happen to me that meant my kids would grow up without their Dad. I’m sure some of this comes from me losing my own father when I was younger. I became convinced the same was going to happen to me.
It’s really hard to describe to somebody the way you feel. To have this ‘thing’ that clouds every thought for every moment of the day no matter what you are doing it’s always there. From the moment you wake until the moment you go to sleep it sits on your shoulder and muscles its way in. I like Winston Churchill’s ‘Black Dog’ analogy – that no matter what you do, no matter where you go, the Black Dog is always there to ruin it for you.
I became totally obsessed with my health. Any ache, pain or discomfort sent my mind spiralling into visions of my own demise. I’d be checking my body for lumps, bumps and changes many times a day. I’d be on the weighing scales morning and night and any minor variation would send me into a panic. My back would ache, my shoulders feel tense and my legs like I’d run a marathon. My stomach wasn’t right and I was peeing more. I’d inspect every bowel movement and monitor the colour of my pee. I was more tired than normal and by the end of the day the weight of carrying this mental burden made me feel shattered. I’d be scared to make an appointment with the doctor in case I was ill but knew that this was my only option to prove to myself that everything was Ok. Everywhere I looked I’d see reference to illness, disease and death.
My mind rewired itself so that it made me notice previously insignificant things and I’d interpret them as signs. I became focused on numbers, times and other things that were previously unimportant to me. I’d notice patterns in things and even tender moments with my family convinced me that these were messages and hints that I was not long for this world. I’d find myself waking at night and if the clock was at 11:11 or 3.33 it would freak me out. But deep down I knew this was all a product of my broken mind.
No one close to me really would understand. I can’t burden my friends or family with this as they have problems of their own. My wife is totally supportive and she knows what I’m going through but she can’t understand or empathise with me. It has driven a wedge between us at times and she has talked about leaving because she finds it hard to cope with me being like this and trying to bring up 3 young kids with another on the way. She asks ‘will you ever be happy again?’ That hurts me to see what I am putting her through and it also makes me question ‘will I ever be happy again?’
Back in the Summer of 2013, on a warm Sunday afternoon, I went out to my shed. I don’t know what had triggered it but that day was a bad one for me. I sat and smoked a cigarette and then found a length a rope. I hitched it over the roof truss and stood on a crate. I made a slipknot and looped it over my head, making sure the rope was tight around my neck. I stood there for the next few minutes really contemplating what I was doing and whether I could go through with it. As I was doing this, the kids came out into the garden to play. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they came to see where I was and this snapped me out of it. There is no way I would want them to get caught up in something like that. It was a split second decision. I climbed off the crate and took the rope down. It scared me to think that I had got this far and I think I really could have gone through with it. I have not done anything like this since although I have thought about suicide several times. Which is totally contradictory. I’m obsessed with my health and staying alive but I very nearly looped myself that day.
I find that I am up and down like a yoyo. Mornings tend to be bad. The catastrophic thoughts, panic, anxiousness, and low mood seem to be massively intensified before lunchtime. I never wake up feeling bad but it’s not long before I’m in the gutter. I think my body relaxes at night and I do usually get a semi-decent night’s sleep - apart from waking early and clock watching until the alarm goes off. It’s got to a point where I expect the bad feelings to start. I almost invite them in. By the time I’ve got out of bed and am in the shower the feelings start.
Feeling like this for nearly a year now, something has got to change. I cannot carry on like this as I know it’s going to eventually do me in. But then I am not totally sure what I should do. As part of my condition, I am very scared of doctors and hospitals. I know I need to see my GP and ask for his help to point me towards some sort of recovery whether that be medication assisted or otherwise. I need to make that appointment and lay bare the facts once and for all. I keep promising that I’ll do it but never commit. I’m scared that there is something wrong with me and by going to the GP I’ll start something that I can’t control. I know that this is nonsense but my mind won’t let me think otherwise.
Until then, it’s one day at a time. I can’t look to the future, I can’t get excited about anything and I can’t get any enjoyment or satisfaction. I eek each day out until it’s time to go to bed and dread waking next morning with the fear and doom. I’m tired.
I have always been edgy and nervy but until recently, within the last year, I was always able to cope with these feelings. I could deal with them effectively in my head and then compartmentalise them, file them away. I never gave stress or worry too much thought and was ale to lead a happy and fulfilled life.
Something changed almost instantly. Whether it was turning 30 (I’m now 32) and realising that I perhaps wasn’t an invincible 20-something any more, or a minor health scare that really has had a lasting effect on my mental wellbeing. My family grew and so did my responsibilities. I now had to make sure I could provide for them; put a roof over their heads, food on the table and clothes on their backs. I became overwhelmingly obsessed that something bad was going to happen to me that meant my kids would grow up without their Dad. I’m sure some of this comes from me losing my own father when I was younger. I became convinced the same was going to happen to me.
It’s really hard to describe to somebody the way you feel. To have this ‘thing’ that clouds every thought for every moment of the day no matter what you are doing it’s always there. From the moment you wake until the moment you go to sleep it sits on your shoulder and muscles its way in. I like Winston Churchill’s ‘Black Dog’ analogy – that no matter what you do, no matter where you go, the Black Dog is always there to ruin it for you.
I became totally obsessed with my health. Any ache, pain or discomfort sent my mind spiralling into visions of my own demise. I’d be checking my body for lumps, bumps and changes many times a day. I’d be on the weighing scales morning and night and any minor variation would send me into a panic. My back would ache, my shoulders feel tense and my legs like I’d run a marathon. My stomach wasn’t right and I was peeing more. I’d inspect every bowel movement and monitor the colour of my pee. I was more tired than normal and by the end of the day the weight of carrying this mental burden made me feel shattered. I’d be scared to make an appointment with the doctor in case I was ill but knew that this was my only option to prove to myself that everything was Ok. Everywhere I looked I’d see reference to illness, disease and death.
My mind rewired itself so that it made me notice previously insignificant things and I’d interpret them as signs. I became focused on numbers, times and other things that were previously unimportant to me. I’d notice patterns in things and even tender moments with my family convinced me that these were messages and hints that I was not long for this world. I’d find myself waking at night and if the clock was at 11:11 or 3.33 it would freak me out. But deep down I knew this was all a product of my broken mind.
No one close to me really would understand. I can’t burden my friends or family with this as they have problems of their own. My wife is totally supportive and she knows what I’m going through but she can’t understand or empathise with me. It has driven a wedge between us at times and she has talked about leaving because she finds it hard to cope with me being like this and trying to bring up 3 young kids with another on the way. She asks ‘will you ever be happy again?’ That hurts me to see what I am putting her through and it also makes me question ‘will I ever be happy again?’
Back in the Summer of 2013, on a warm Sunday afternoon, I went out to my shed. I don’t know what had triggered it but that day was a bad one for me. I sat and smoked a cigarette and then found a length a rope. I hitched it over the roof truss and stood on a crate. I made a slipknot and looped it over my head, making sure the rope was tight around my neck. I stood there for the next few minutes really contemplating what I was doing and whether I could go through with it. As I was doing this, the kids came out into the garden to play. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they came to see where I was and this snapped me out of it. There is no way I would want them to get caught up in something like that. It was a split second decision. I climbed off the crate and took the rope down. It scared me to think that I had got this far and I think I really could have gone through with it. I have not done anything like this since although I have thought about suicide several times. Which is totally contradictory. I’m obsessed with my health and staying alive but I very nearly looped myself that day.
I find that I am up and down like a yoyo. Mornings tend to be bad. The catastrophic thoughts, panic, anxiousness, and low mood seem to be massively intensified before lunchtime. I never wake up feeling bad but it’s not long before I’m in the gutter. I think my body relaxes at night and I do usually get a semi-decent night’s sleep - apart from waking early and clock watching until the alarm goes off. It’s got to a point where I expect the bad feelings to start. I almost invite them in. By the time I’ve got out of bed and am in the shower the feelings start.
Feeling like this for nearly a year now, something has got to change. I cannot carry on like this as I know it’s going to eventually do me in. But then I am not totally sure what I should do. As part of my condition, I am very scared of doctors and hospitals. I know I need to see my GP and ask for his help to point me towards some sort of recovery whether that be medication assisted or otherwise. I need to make that appointment and lay bare the facts once and for all. I keep promising that I’ll do it but never commit. I’m scared that there is something wrong with me and by going to the GP I’ll start something that I can’t control. I know that this is nonsense but my mind won’t let me think otherwise.
Until then, it’s one day at a time. I can’t look to the future, I can’t get excited about anything and I can’t get any enjoyment or satisfaction. I eek each day out until it’s time to go to bed and dread waking next morning with the fear and doom. I’m tired.