First of all, I begin this entry with a heartfelt apology. To the hundreds of you who responded to my Facebook post and my Twitter post with your generously warm words of good will and love, either as comments or private messages, I’m truly sorry for not replying to you. There have been many times when I have got out of bed with the intention that that would be the day I get on top of my ‘admin’, so to speak. You will no doubt notice I have yet to fulfil these simple goals. I deeply appreciate you taking the time to write to me and post on my Twitter feed, asking for my welfare and wishing me better health. Thank you.

The truth is, I’m still within the unremitting grip of this bout of depression, so much so, that reading kind words directed to me and about me are palpably difficult for me to do. I simply can’t accept that I’m worthy of such consideration and indeed general kindness. Such is the low esteem I hold for myself as an individual, that sometimes I avoid my social media accounts, as I similarly used to avoid opening the mail when my finances were at one time in dire straits. However, the difference now of course, is that the ‘mail’ I now receive is one hundred times more positive than the threatening demands of many years ago. I am grateful and appreciative, yet find it challenging to read your caring words of support.

I would love to write how I now see glimmers of hope and I feel I’m beginning to recover from this depression. Sadly, this is not the case. My self-loathing is as strong as when I last wrote and the consequences of this are still strong thoughts and desires to complete my suicide. In fact, there have been a few days when it has taken noticeable physical effort along with cognitive restraint on my part to prevent myself walking out of the house and not returning. In these moments I am worryingly at my calmest within myself, with a sense of acceptance that the time is close for me to make my final move. Very much like I was before boarding the ferry I chose to jump from in 2019. Yet, despite the powerful urge within me to complete my suicide, I manage to prevent myself from acceding to this.

It is a mark of the incredibly effective support I receive from my NHS Community Mental Health Team (CMHT), in particular my Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN), that I find it within myself to remain with the ‘safe plan’ I was a part of devising before I left hospital in 2019. A copy of this is pinned to the wall in my studio shed and it provides an effective reference point for me when my thoughts and desires for suicide are most potent. Reading through the various steps I can choose to follow to keep me from harming myself, certainly gives me cause to stop and think things through. I effectively ground myself and bring myself to the present when I reference this, by now rather, scrappy printed piece of paper. The important thing to share here is the fact I am never alone even if I feel swamped with loneliness. It’s not a loneliness of companionship, it’s really a loneliness of internal anguish. The CMHT and my CPN know me well and respond in a robust yet caring way with me. I always feel heard and understood by them, even if at times I find myself exasperated by their attempts to bring me to the immediacy of the present moment and encourage me to find the energy to connect with the the things I know give me pleasure in my life. When I am as depressed as I am at the moment, I find myself often responding -“You make it sound so easy!” - which I immediately regret because there is one thing I hate, and that is me sounding like a victim. By this I mean, I present myself in a ‘poor me’ kind of way, in my language and my behaviour. When I recognise that this is occurring for me, it is another strong factor which builds a case for me to complete my suicide. I cannot bear the reality of presenting myself in such a helpless victim role which only serves to invite those close to me in my life, to find themselves adopting a rescuing role, attempting to alleviate my anguish in what ever way then can do or say, and then find themselves feeling inadequate as well when I reject their support with very often these simple words - “Yes but”.

I’m grateful for my wife Karen identifying this unhelpful sequence and she is wonderful at supporting me with robust kindness. She leaves me be most of the time and will not attempt to fill the gaps with suggestions for change or activity. Instead, she manages to live alongside me with unconstrained positivity for all she encounters and there is no implicit invitation for me to match this. The result is a lessening of guilt on my part that I’m a negative burden for her and steadily, step by step, I find myself reengaging more in our regular daily activities. Karen never tries to ‘mend me’, instead she lives alongside me offering me unconditional love and affection. Neither does she collude with my depression, cocooning me and wrapping me in cotton wool. She trusts that I know what I want and I will speak to her when I want to and I need to. There may be times when I notice her concern and it is easy for me to be honest with her about the level of distress I am experiencing and if there is extra support I require.

This illness, in the way I experience it, is pernicious. It grips me in my entirety - diminishing my physical energy, diminishing any sense of desire to find and experience pleasure, blocking any sense of hope, muting my positive thought processes and amplifying my self-criticism. It effectively diminishes the Nick Ray I like to be - imbued with a love for life, wildness and adventure. When I’m in the midst of a deep depression as I am now, one of my great struggles is believing that it is actually depression as a mental illness which is affecting me and not any defect in my personality. I find this agonisingly confusing and frustrating much of the time. At one level, I know that this is an illness and it is the illness which causes me to see myself as the bad and lazy person I believe myself to be. Yet, despite knowing this, it is frustratingly difficult for me to believe this or at least embody it. I recall with clarity how I refer to my sea kayaking experiences as metaphors for understanding this illness when it afflicts me. Essentially the knowledge (and wisdom) that the discomfort will ease and pass, just as a strong head wind will do, or a strong opposing tide or a long open water crossing. I have said many times that if I’m able to sit with the discomfort, over a period of time this discomfort will pass and I’ll once more enjoy easier seas ahead. This is where I find myself becoming angrily frustrated - why then, if I know this, do I still find myself desiring a completion of my suicide? The answer I give most to this is the fact I am exhausted. I’m exhausted by fighting to get well again, fighting my depression and bluntly, at time fighting not to walk out of the house with the plan of never returning. I find myself longing for the peace from all of this. I remember with clarity those twenty odd minutes or so of complete peaceful acceptance of my death when I was floating in the turbulent waters off the tip of Lismore after I had jumped from the ferry. When I’m angrily tussling with my highly negative internal dialogue, I’m often assuaged by a warm rush of my memory of being in the sea, not fearful and slowly drifting off into tormentless oblivion.

Essentially all I have described is my current state of play so far. Yet it is not the complete story of course. There have been notable moments of positivity which have helped me hugely. The first is my jewellery making. In effect, this is like occupational therapy when I was in hospital. I’m engaged by being creative and if I’m honest, I find enjoyment in this. I’m now working with silver clay which is malleable and when fired in my kiln, creates fine silver pieces. I’ve enjoyed experimenting and teaching myself the new skills required to work with this. Generally though, I have a sense of purpose to my days, and while I may not have the inclination or energy to enjoy kayaking, I do look forward to entering my shed and making stuff. In fact, it took all of yesterday from eight in the morning to eight at night to restock my online shop with all I had recently created. I often smile to myself when I wonder what the OT team on Succoth Ward would say if they saw me beavering away in my shed.

Then there are the odd forays Karen and I make together out into the wonderful landscapes we enjoy here on the Isle of Mull. A picturesque walk is never far away and of course, Ziggy our dog is the perfect excuse we need to take ourselves off for a walk. I have to admit that recently I’ve allowed lethargy to dominate but I am beginning to make more of an effort to walk more. We also camped out under the stars a couple of weeks ago to celebrate the longest day. That was a fun experience and beautiful too.

I am digging a pond for our garden. I love wildlife ponds and this is giving me something to look forward to even if it’s taking me an age to complete it. My energy levels are generally low, so I find myself struggling with the incredibly rocky ground. I’ve decided to keep at it an hour at a time. Additionally we have discovered our front lawn is a blaze of colour with Machair like flowers which is wonderful. This gives me great pleasure when I look at it, especially with the orchids we have in proliferation.

I think a while back I said writing helps me find a way out of my depression. I notice at this moment in time, as I bring this entry to a close, I feeling less agitated and more settled as a result of airing my thoughts in the written word. I certainly notice how my thought processes are linking together more positive thoughts than self-critical ones.

I am not going to give up. As strong as my desires are for eternal peace, there remains within me a stubborn resistance to giving in. I will continue to accept all the help I am professionally offered and I hope in time, I’ll reengage with my supportive social media communities. I know if I allow myself to begin to feel the warmth, I will benefit from the words of encouragement I receive every day.

Thank you.