Functioning Depressionista

Yesterday I had a long awaited in person appointment with my psychiatrist, here on the Isle of Mull. I had reached out to the community mental health service not long after my return from my long adventure because I wasn’t feeling very well and I sought a medication review, believing the regimen I am on was no longer effective in managing my depression. I think because I had been out of the loop for so long, I found myself beginning at square one and it took a number of months for me to rise through the appointment list.

During the latter part of last year and since the beginning of 2024, I have been in a seemingly fruitless struggle with depression. In recent weeks, I was particularly concerned with how awful I was feeling and I made regular appointments with our doctors at the medical practice in Tobermory. They were excellent, giving me valuable time, listening to my concerns and I suspect, hastening my progress through the mental health team waiting list.

The depression I live with is a pernicious illness. The best way I can describe it to you, is how it seems like an organic upwelling of stagnant blackness. My energy is drained and motivation to combat the feelings of worthlessness and self-hatred is severely challenged. It is an exhausting process. All the positives I gained from my long sea kayak journey seem hollow and empty of truth. Such is the malicious intent of the depression I live with, I believe at the moment, there is no longer any purpose to my existence. I find myself returning again and again to the assumption I’m a fraud in kayaker’s clothing.

It is so easy to find myself affected by external events which appear to reinforce a belief of utter uselessness I have of myself. A horrible ending to the relationship I had with the prestigious literary agency in London where I found myself feeling abandoned and ignored. Being invited to send my writing to another prestigious literary agent and this too being ignored weeks afterwards. In sharing these two examples, I find I hate myself even more for sounding pathetic and weak. I tell myself to stop being so uselessly sensitive and man-up.

Over the coming weeks I will be giving presentations to various audiences about my year long journey. It’s a huge honour to be asked to do this. Yet, I again view myself as a fraud, a person who advocates outdoor connection and adventure for positive mental health, while failing to walk this path myself. This troubles me a lot.

Yet, despite the deep depressive malaise, I work hard to ensure I keep myself moving in a forward direction. In this regard I view myself as a functioning depressionista. A man who gets by with an outward countenance of normality. Despite my lack of literary ability, I continue to write for the book about my year long journey. In fact the words spill from my fingertips. I am also enjoying the creativity of making short films from the hours of video footage I took during the journey and posting these on my YouTube channel.

Sadly, my motivation to press forwards with life hasn’t extended to inviting myself out onto the sea to enjoy my kayaking. I also find I struggle to engage with social media, a medium which has also been a source of sustenance for me. Again, I view myself as no longer having purpose, with nothing of value to offer.

I have written this blog post because it helps me to do so. I feel I owe an explanation for my absence and my blog is useful for me to explain how this bout of depression is affecting me. The act of writing these paragraphs, focuses my thinking and helps me see beyond the emotional turmoil at the surface of my existence. I notice I’m reconnecting with the core truths I came to understand through my journey. These being, I have courage, I am tenacious and there is always hope.

Finally, I am safe. I experience strong suicidal ideation every day and I long for the peace from my anguish, I believe completing my suicide will bring. I have enough cognitive strength to challenge these sometimes overwhelming desires. I courageously face them head on, tenaciously holding onto the realistic hope this darkness will pass. Also, I am not alone. Karen is by my side and a loving constant presence in my life. I also have ready access to the professional support I require.

In a month or so, the warmth begins to return to our northern climes and with this, the hope the change in my medication regimen will be showing dividends. Until then though, this depression is a bugger and I’m fighting it as fiercely as I’m able. Sometimes, I feel defeated and this is really horrible.

Thank you for reading this and thank you as always, for your warmth, love and support.