Tuesday 12 August 2014

Staying calm


There's been a lot of my favourite famous people dying this year, and today's one seems to be making a bigger impact than most of them. Whilst others have been tragic and/or unexpected, the death of Robin Williams is beyond tragic - this is someone who WANTED to die, how could anyone ever think like that?

Well, we all know the answer, and it's a horrible answer but an answer none the less. It's depression, it's a big thing. Judging by the amount of things popping up all over the Internet today you'd think mental illness had only just been discovered today, but at least it's getting people talking about it, which is something that NEEDS to happen a lot more often. Geoff Lloyd of Absolute Radio fame did a remarkably frank piece on his usually-jovial show this evening, along with a big push for the Campaign Against Living Miserably, and that wasn't an isolated incident either. Here's another thing worth reading, better than any preachy eulogy could ever do: 


Call this bandwagon-jumping if you will, but depression is ridiculously common, and the absolute best thing to do about it is to talk about it. This in itself is hard enough, in that it's so hard to explain exactly WHAT it is, without resorting to vague notions about chemical imbalances and crossed wires in the brain and suchlike. Here's as good an idea of it as I've ever read, and even that's alarmingly vague:


If you'll bear with me, I'm going to talk about my experiences with it now. To be fair, I'll delay publishing this until I've got my next "proper" article ready, so they'll both be there at once, should you happen to be one of those sick fucks who prefers to think that depression is a made-up disease.

I was diagnosed as depressed in 2007 (or "psychotic", to be precise). I was living with a bunch of friends at the time, and it was those friends who noticed that something wasn't right with me. It was them who staged the "intervention", them who made me go to the hospital, and them who cut off all ties with me once I was safely in the hands of the NHS. This is a thing that happens with mental illness - it scares people, and not just those who are stuck with it. Despite going through school with these people, as soon as I was deemed "not normal" in their eyes they were gone. People get scared, fine, but if you really want to call yourself a friend you should be there when things go wrong - if not you'll no doubt make things worse, so they did a great job there.

What followed was around three years of medication in varying dosages and strengths; countless sessions with a counsellor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and several support workers; a somewhat terrifying CT scan; a few workshops which involved hanging around with other "disturbed" people of varying intensities; and lots and lots and lots of doing nothing. I got fat and slept a lot and most of those three years are a blur, but things gradually started picking up. 

Spending more time at home naturally meant spending more time on the Internet, and I joined a forum. About six months after joining, there was talk on there of a meet-up, which I convinced myself to go along to somehow. There were more and more of these, and I went along to as many as I could, each time meeting new, like-minded people. People who today I count as among my best friends, and one of whom is my ultimate reliance. Whenever things are getting bad or at their absolute worst, she's there to listen, and that's enough. If everyone would just get their selfish heads out of the sand and LISTEN when someone's falling to pieces... Idealism etc. My rock doesn't like comics so she's not likely to read this, so at least I'm not embarrassing anyone here.

Something else happened about a year or so after getting involved with "Internet people" - I was offered a job. Nothing fancy, but a job, which gave a reason to get up in the mornings, and this was a big development. I was active and speaking to people everyday, I lost weight, built muscles, earned my own money. Eventually I decided to bin the tablets and cut myself off from the support workers, and even got out of the house and moved into a place of my own.

I was lucky, is what I'm saying. Or "am" lucky, whatever. But just like any illness, the effects are long-lasting, sometimes even permanent. I still get angry, still get miserable, still get hopeless. Only three weeks ago I was reasoning with myself how I'd prefer to be dead, whilst at the same time telling myself I'm too much of a coward to actually go through with it. Seven years ago this would've been dangerous, but now I'm surrounded by people who actually give a fuck, people who can tell when something's wrong and are there to give me a kick up the pants and send me in the right direction again. Where I am right now isn't perfect, far from it, but as long as there are people willing to listen, I'm happy with that. People deal with depression in many different ways, and my way mostly involves making sure there's enough distractions around to keep me from thinking about it, so there.

Let's get back to the comics now and pretend everything's fantastic again.

11 comments:

  1. Very well put and very kind of you to link those posts. This was all immensely cathartic to read as I imagine it was to write. We're not alone. Sometimes its impossible to focus on but I'm exceptionally grateful for making your acquaintance and hope you can take some comfort in knowing that some balding northern bloke miles away loves what you do and hopes it continues for as long as it stays fun. And who couldn't have fun when there's always archive Biffo antics to despair at?

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    1. Likewise, Ben, likewise.

      I was shaking while I was writing this, actually scared of putting it "out there", but then realised that that's EXACTLY the problem that one-third of the population is facing.

      This whole blogging thing's a lot of fun - being able to write whatever you want about whatever you want, and then people actually reading and responding to it... There's at least one reason to enjoy life right there!

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  2. I suspect that everyone suffers from depression at some time or other. The 'stigma' only kicks in when someone gets 'bagged and tagged', I guess. Some of those who avoid depressed people (because they regard them as 'nutters' or something) probably suffer from it themselves without ever realising it. Now there's a depressing thought.

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    1. Yeah, it's such a "hidden" thing - the symptoms don't even exist externally unless you're looking for them.

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  3. In the late 90's early 2000's I lived and worked in San Francisco a couple of blocks up from where Robin Williams lived. I saw him a at least a couple of times a month because he shopped in both the places I worked ( a hardware store and a comic book store). Unlike most of the customers I encountered he actually took the time to know my name and that meant a lot to me. I helped him pick out the right tool box to hold his kids lego and once had a conversation about the possibility of a live action Akira movie and many other little encounter that would sound unremarkable or otherwise insignificant if not for the fact that they involved him. He seemed like such a genuine person and a lot calmer in person then he was on tv.I truly understand that you can really never know whats going on inside somebody's head but I feel like there must be something more to this then depression or money problems that lead to this. Maybe he was diagnosed with something fatal recently or something. I just cant rap my head around this, It seems like such an unlikely thing for him to make it to 63 then get depressed and kill himself. I guess Im really in a little shock over the entire thing, it just doesn't feel real.

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    1. It's the third time this year that a celebrity's death has properly affected me - a very strange feeling, truly.

      I can't remember what film it was, but there was one where Robin Williams was talking about how he's opening up to life more often - like how he had a three hour conversation with someone who called the wrong number, and how he'd started wearing a cowboy hat for no reason at all. That's how I've always imagined he'd be in the real world, and from your story, it seems fairly accurate.

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  4. Nice piece sir :) You're certainly right that depression is worryingly common - many relatives and people I know suffer to some degree or another, myself included, and it's not nice. Sorry to hear about your experiences but I'm glad you're getting better, long may it continue :)

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    1. The conceptions about it DO seem to be improving. When Kurt Cobain killed himself twenty years ago, everyone was blaming the drugs. They certainly played a part, but no-one really seemed to be asking what MADE him turn to the drugs.

      In recent years we've had the likes of Stephen Fry, Ruby Wax and Marilyn Manson "coming out" and talking about their experiences, and that's just great, but Robin Williams REALLY seems to've woken people up to how deadly common the whole thing is.

      Oh, and thanks also :)

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  5. These days, Syd Barret's no longer considered an acid casualty. More likely, he was lonely, frightened, and wholly unable to deal with fame.

    You might like this one:

    http://mashable.com/2014/08/13/robin-williams-mental-health-stigma/

    And this one's just lovely:

    http://www.rockpapershotgun.com/2014/08/12/cardboard-children-jumanji/

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  6. Well done for having the guts to "come out" . I too know what it's like wanting to be dead, having suffered from it myself in '96/7. The meds saved my life .I'll be on them for life as I'm a RAVING obsessive compulsive, but the more of us who openly admit it, the less of a stigma will be attached to mental illness. So add me to the list - and it's my real name!

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    1. Good on you, John! I'm not QUITE at the "real name" stage yet, although a fair few of the "online people" that I know already know what it is...

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