Wellness - this has become my word of choice at the moment when I speak of my mental health. I refer to my recovery from depression as a pathway to wellness rather than use the word recovery per se. I am finding this time around after a lengthy dose of deep clinical depression, the process of recovering from it is proving extremely challenging, elusive and worryingly tenacious. However, I’m seeing the light ahead of me and for the first time in many months, I’m experiencing a lightness of being which instils a strengthening sense of hope.

My rather unexpected admission into hospital earlier in November has turned out to be just the catalyst for change I needed. When I speak of this recent experience, I refer to it as, “the kick in the pants I needed to get me straight again.” It was certainly a dire and dour few days I spent on the ward, full of angry angst at finding myself there yet again. In truth, I think I had allowed my depression to creep up to me unchallenged, in a way allowing it to swamp me with it’s awful familiarity. I sometimes think I prefer an existence within my depression as apposed to fighting to remain well, because it’s easier to be cocooned by the illness no matter how awful I feel. Fighting it simply takes too much effort and I’m exhausted by this continual battle. When the notion of a hospital admission was presented to me, there was definitely the familiar allure of acceding to my illness and allowing myself to be warmly immersed in the safe comfort of Succouth Ward. However, when I arrived on the ward, I immediately recognised my error of judgement. This was not the right place for me to be and not what I required at all. I felt desperate, very alone and deeply homesick. More than anything I missed the sense of purpose my garden shed provided me, my place of safety where I while away my hours with endless creativity. Somehow, I had misconstrued my current condition and had presented myself as being at greater risk of self-harm than I truthfully was.

I had allowed myself to be suckered by my depression into believing I was dangerously suicidal when in reality, while I may have had suicidal ideations, I was no closer to acting on these than in previous months. One very strong indicator I need to be in hospital is the overwhelming sense of safety from myself I feel on my admission. Earlier in November, this time, quite the opposite occurred. I became fraught with angst about being isolated from home, from Karen and from my beloved shed. It didn’t help with the ward working with half capacity because of COVID and there not being the usual therapeutic interventions to engage with, such as, Occupational Health, daily ward meetings and discussion groups. It was a pared back service where admission was for safety and time out.

Recognising this was not the environment I needed sparked a determination within me to take control for myself. This did not happen immediately but certainly after three days in there, I knew with confidence I was going to ask to be discharged even though I’d only been there a few days. There was a new found energy within me which mobilised me into action and swept away the passivity I had been experiencing up to this point. I certainly felt energetic again!

I returned home within a week of my admission and the sense of relief for me was almost overpowering. I hadn’t ever felt homesick before, to the point I missed even the smallest detail of home life. Mobilised as I now was, I threw myself back into my creative work in my shed with focussed contentment. I became physically active too, returning to running and from time to time, taking myself for a burl around the Bay and Calve Island in my kayak. Those few short days in hospital accentuated the sense of freedom I felt in my kayak, seeking out the wild corners of Tobermory’s littoral landscape.

Returning home I embarked on a course of twice weekly EMDR sessions with the Psychologist. This has been a demanding process for me and is still ongoing but I have noticed the benefits already. Despite working with some incredibly challenging memories, I’ve not found myself destabilised anywhere close enough to require the extra support on offer should this have occurred.

With each passing day I notice I’m further along the continuum towards wellness. I do still encounter moments of uncertainty, a shake in my confidence or an unexplained flat or low mood. However, these are not enduring and I often work past them quickly enough with projects in my shed or acknowledging the joy of making sales of what I create. I’m wise enough to know that my recovery road is fraught with challenges and will undoubtedly test me many times in the future. There are the real challenges of social isolation and deep loneliness in my life which I need to pay heed to. I miss close friendships and the opportunity for a good blether with people who know me and understand me, where I don’t have to explain myself. Online friendships are good for me but they do not fulfil that need of mine to share real adventures and create shared stories with good friends. I love living on the Isle of Mull but I am lonely here.

Loneliness aside, wellness is within reach and this is truly wonderful. The plans I’m looking forward to making for 2022 will hopefully address the issue of my solitude and anyway, the more I put myself out into the world again, the more which will come my way.

Thank you for reading this.