Recovery And The Future

I’ve been out of hospital for a number of weeks now. As many of you know, I was suddenly admitted into psychiatric care at the end of May, spending roughly seven weeks on Succoth Ward in Lochgilphead. It was a necessary admission which undoubtedly saved me from the ravages of the deep depression I was suffering. As ever I’m deeply grateful for the care and attention I received from the community mental health team, in particular the crisis intervention folks, and ultimately the staff on the psychiatric ward. I had left things rather late in seeking help and when I did, all the stops were pulled out to see me right and I’m deeply grateful for this.

Now I’m home, my recovery isn’t being left to chance and I receive regular attention from the local GP and the new community psychiatric nurse on the Isle of Mull. I cannot fault any aspect of the care I’m receiving. I’m pleased to say too, the new anti-depressant medication I’ve been prescribed is working well and I’m not suffering any side affects at all. I think this is the first medication for depression I’ve taken which has had a noticeable impact on shifting my low mood. I won’t say what it is because this information I want to keep personal.

Life on the ward was as I expected it to be and it did me the world of good to take a step away from regular living for a significant length of time. The greatest benefit is the palpable sense of safety I experience the moment I enter the ward and the door locks behind me. The seemingly impossible weight of fighting the urge to complete my suicide is lifted and suddenly I’m able to fully concentrate on overcoming the desolation of the illness I’m suffering. I was not well at all. I think as I age, so my depression interludes become fiercer. This bout of depression was also the first time I felt I was mentally ill, rather than experience my depressions as an expression of my psychological frailty and inadequacy. There was something organic about this episode because it emerged from deep within me rather than from an external trigger or life circumstance. Needless to say, the symptoms were all too unpleasantly familiar. I kept a daily journal during this admission and this entry somewhat explains what I was experiencing during the first few weeks of my stay.

“My desire to die is strong this morning. I want to end this inner turmoil and hatred I feel, once and for all. I’m tired - so very tired. I have no energy left to keep fighting this illness. I’m tired of referring to it as an illness with the following words, it will pass and I will recover again. I’m done with listening to this fact over and over again. The words I hear sound so glib and at times so plastic. I feel myself I am so plastic and unreal. The desire to drift off into the sea is so incredibly strong within me. I’m not frightened by this and think of how pleasant a death it would be. I remember so vividly how this felt when I jumped off the ferry. I felt I belonged to the sea and hold no fear for my gradual death through hypothermia.”

While I struggled with these deeply dark thoughts and feelings, I knew I was safe on the ward and there was no intention on my part to act out. I simply waded my way through the morass of the illness, aching for the moment the glimmers of recovery began to shine forth. It seemed to take a long while before these appeared but when they did, the transformation was remarkable. I’ve never been one to sit and wait for recovery to occur. I’ve always held the notion this is a process which requires my full participation and compliance with the medical protocols presented to me. In my opinion, there is little to be gained through non-compliance and a suspicious outlook. I trust the professionalism of all the staff from my psychiatrist through the various levels of the teams involved in my care. This is not to say I find it easy to communicate with everyone and there are those who I feel closer to than others. However, I firmly believe everyone working on the ward or in the external teams has my best interests at heart and I value this.

I’m not a gregarious ward participant and prefer to keep my own company when I can. There have been previous hospital admissions where I made friends with other patients, but on this occasion I found I kept my own company. As with everyone else on the ward, I appreciated we were each there for our own reasons and as such, respected the privacy and needs of each individual. We are a tight community on the ward where the nature of our conditions creates a level of intimacy not replicated in the outside world. We share our vulnerability and equally experience the vulnerability of others. I actually view this as a privilege and I believe this helps me become more accepting of others behaviour in all aspects of life. There can be times when this is a challenge on the ward, when outward behaviour can be alarming, disturbing or simply annoying. Nevertheless, even these moments are more readily accepted with the simplest response of removing myself from the situation and not allowing myself to be sucked into high energy which might be occurring. I value how the staff generally leave us to manage our style of community only intervening if a situation is really becoming untenable for all.

The key to my recovery on the ward is keeping myself busy and sticking to a self-imposed regimented routine. This does two things. Firstly, it prevents me from becoming introverted and indulging in harmful introspective thinking. Secondly, it helps the time pass by, so much so that the days begin to blend with subtle ease into each other. Of course there are times when time seems to drag or even stand still, but on the whole, I rarely struggled with boredom. I devoured easy to read ‘whodunnit’ books, puzzle books and rediscovered my creativity with writing my journal and this time, writing screeds about last year’s kayaking journey. I was never stuck for something to do and apart from my early days on the ward, I very rarely slept during the day. There is also a sense of safety in a regulated routine and this was invaluable for me too.

Setting targets for myself was useful too. I found myself determined to lose weight while in hospital and I’m pleased to say I managed to reduce my weight by nine kilograms during my time there. This required considerable will power to resist the delicious lunchtime puddings, the copious tea time biscuits and the supper time racks of hot buttered toast.

Eventually the tide turned in my favour, as I knew deep down it would. Here’s an entry in my journal.

“A great review yesterday. All is leading in the right direction and I’ll be going home soon. This is all very exciting! I realise now I’m ready to get back home and get back to living. I know I’ll be nervous and I have concerns about being isolated again. However, I’m growing in realistic determination that all will be well and I will be reinvigorated and renewed. I’m feeling much better and stronger, my thoughts much clearer and positive. I have all but stopped thinking of suicide which is a really big positive for me. I want to use the rest of my time on the ward to prepare for getting home. I want to create a plan of action to keep me heading in the right direction and keep me safe.”

Another sustaining factor for me was the incredible support I received from family, friends and the thousands of people who follow my social media channels. I was truly heartened by the genuinely warm comments and words of encouragement, support and love. Equally, I loved receiving cards, letters and gifts from people I have yet to meet for real. In this day and age, it’s a commitment to use the postal services to make contact and I really appreciated the effort folks made in this regard. It continues to concern me I do not show sufficient appreciation for the support I receive from my social media community and I hope writing this, goes some way to emphasising the true value I receive from everyone.

During the final couple of weeks on the ward, I put my mind to life beyond hospital. I realised there would be a period of adjustment when the regimented safety of the ward would be replaced with the unambiguous freedom of home life. I understood the need for me to have focuses onto which I could place the energy and motivation I had rediscovered in hospital. It wouldn’t do if I returned home without some structures to work within. With this in mind, I decided to place my energy into projects I’d considered after completing my year long kayaking journey but hadn’t yet made headway with.

Completing the book about this incredible journey and experience is at the top of the list and I feel a sense of confidence in seeing this to fruition. While on the ward, I’d managed to hand write copious anecdotes which I’m pleased with and in doing so, I think I’ve discovered how I want to tell my story.

I will be establishing a charitable foundation too. This will be known as the “Lifeafloat Foundation”. It will be a grant making charity for people over the age of fifty, who are seeking adventure in their lives as a means for personal growth. Particular emphasis will be given to those struggling with poor mental health and other life challenging situations. My intention is to provide grants which range from enabling the purchase of a pair of boots to funding ambitious adventures. I intend to establish a network of employed advisors and mentors who will offer assistance and wisdom to anyone who may need this, to assist them realise their adventurous ventures. In addition, I would like the foundation to offer workshops and training events in all matters adventurous. The motivation for establishing this foundation stems from a desire to give something in return from the privilege I’ve been honoured to enjoy as an adventurer myself. Additionally, I’m a passionate advocate for the power of adventure incorporated with a meaningful immersion in wild landscapes, to facilitate personal awareness and positive change in peoples’ lives.

I’ve researched in detail the requirements for establishing a charity, registered in Scotland and will be approaching key (and important to me) people I’ve identified as possible Trustees. Once the Trustee group is established, I will begin the process of registering the charitable foundation here in Scotland through the OSCR, Scottish Charity Register. There are many intricacies to address before I make the Foundation totally public and I’m confident these will be in place by the close of 2024.

My determined intention to establish the foundation leads into my plan for my next big adventure beginning on 1st January 2025 - “The Four Corners”. This is where I walk and wild camp, from the southern most point of mainland Scotland to the northern most point via the eastern point, the centre of mainland Scotland and the western most point. The route I’ve planned will be just over one thousand miles. The primary purpose of this adventure will be to launch the Lifeafloat Foundation and to raise funds to enable it to begin operating in 2025. I think this adventure will be perfect to highlight the potential of the charity. Equally I will continue to raise awareness about mental health matters, living a full life despite the rigours of mental distress and the all important message concerning suicide prevention. The concept of this venture occurred to me before my admission into hospital but the real planning for it took place by my bedside on the ward, with the maps I bought for the purpose.

I’ve returned home motivated to keep myself meaningfully busy. My shed of creativity is bulging at the seams with projects I’m keen to develop. I will be returning to making jewellery with pure silver and beach combed items. I have taught myself how to make paper and have ideas of what I can do with this. I am also very excited to have my mono-printing artwork accepted for display and sale at a local gallery here in Tobermory and will be continuing to throw myself heart and soul into creating more art pieces. I have begun to kayak again and I have plans for overnight journeys. I want to return to creating YouTube films for my channel there too.

The key to all of this will be keeping my feet firmly on the ground and not expecting too much of myself. I know full well how easy it is for me to chastise myself for under achieving because I’ve taken on too much. Above all, I’m looking forward to leading a full and rewarding life once more. However, I’m also aware the recovery pathway is not a simple linear one and there will be setbacks along the way. I’m realistic enough to prepare myself for these moments and I’m hopeful I will have the sense to accept the self-care I can offer myself and seek extra assistance if I require it. Indeed, I will continue to regularly meet with my CPN and attend appointments with my psychiatrist, to ensure my recovery is balanced and attainable.

Finally, I want to close this blog entry with an apology. So many of you have kindly and warmly reached out to me and I’ve been selfishly tardy in not replying to you. While I was very ill, I withdrew deeply into myself. This is an excuse, I know, and I hope as I begin to regain my inner strength, I will become attentive to others again. My sense of self and a belief I hold worth continues to be depleted. This is not to say this will remain the case because I’m working hard to regain a modicum of self-belief and I will find the inclination to engage more and more with the world around me.

Thank you all, so very much for all the support you have given me. I deeply appreciate every word and act of kindness you have shown.

I dedicate this blog to my wife Karen, who has been a constant by my side through all of this and over the past twenty years.

An Update on the Previous Update

How I would love to write life has made a turn for the better and I can feel this depression beginning to ease. Sadly this is not the case and I am firmly in the grip of this tawdry malaise. However, I shall begin this blog entry with the positives because these are far more important than the negatives.

I am being incredibly cared for by my local Community Mental Health Team (CMHT), especially my Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN). In the past when I have reached the depths of depressive despair as I have, I have ended up in hospital. This time round I have requested not to be admitted and to remain at home. I have been heard and acknowledged which is incredibly important for me. Going back into hospital, while being a place of complete safety for me, would this time feel to me to be an utter failure on my part and most certainly be a catalyst in me acting irrationally to prevent admission. I’m determined to fight this depression on my terms and while this may be risky, I do feel empowered to make meaningfully healthy choices. For example, I decided on two occasions not to meet with good friends who were visiting the Isle of Mull and who I hadn’t seen for ages because I simply wasn’t well enough. Being the good friends they are, they understood. Despite inevitably feeling shitty for ‘letting them down’, I realised I had made healthy choices.

The form the wonderful support I’m receiving from the CMHT and my CPN is regular telephone and Zoom contact, checking in with me and being a non-judgemental ear for my depressive unloading. I am fortunate to have a really good relationship with my CPN and I trust her implicitly, so much so, I speak candidly about my strong suicidal ideations and the plan I have in place to see them through. Simply put, being able to do this is for me, one of the reasons why I ultimately choose not to follow my plan through. By speaking of my darkest and most dreadful desires with her, I find myself lancing this infected wound so to speak and releasing the building pressure. Nevertheless, she is concerned for my safety and arranged further contact from the health services while she was off duty, this being in the form of a phone call from our local GP and over the last weekend, phone calls from the Out of Hours mental Health Team. Knowing I was receiving this support and had these calls lined up helped me make an easy decision not to act on my suicidal ideation. In a way, I felt honour bound to meet the agreement that I would be available to speak with them. Additionally I deeply appreciated this level of professional care and did not want to reject it by acting out. Throughout my mental health journey I have strongly believed in meeting my care full on, and while maybe not always being totally compliant, certainly being respectful of and grateful for the care being offered.

It has been my experience that our NHS professionals have our interests at heart and work their utmost to ensure this is upheld, despite the many constraints they face.

So, I’m grateful for the professional mental health care I am receiving. Hand in hand with this of course is the unconditional love and support I receive hourly and every day from Karen, my wife. She understands me and she knows how to live with me when I am depressed like this. I appreciate how difficult I can be at times, but increasingly, the sense I am a burden on her is diminishing. Of course there are many times when I feel utterly miserable about being poorly motivated and listless when it comes to enjoying shared time in the outdoors be this going for walks and possibly camping nights away. However, having Karen’s unconditional, no strings attached, support helps me live openly with my depression rather than bury it and hide it away. As with my CPN, I am able to speak with Karen about my suicidal ideations without fear of being judged or ‘shut down’. Simply being able to state where I am with this thinking, by expressing it out loud, is enough for me to make a decision not to act on my desires or the plan I have in place. I cannot stress enough how important Karen’s love and understanding is for me.

Then there is the unconditional support I receive from my wide Social Media diaspora in the form of private messages letting me know I’m in their thoughts, to more public utterances of concern and good wishes for my welfare. Despite having not been active on my main Social Media outlets, I do not feel forgotten and therefore the pressure to contribute. It is good for me to know that people understand I’m taking care of myself and I will return to my online visibility when I am stronger.

My shed has possibly been one of my greatest saviours. In here, with the accoutrements of creativity around my, I lose myself in hours of absorbing making and creating. Just as I found Occupational Health activity incredibly helpful for me in hospital, I find my shed has become my place of safety. It is a pace of purpose and intent and this is vital for me right now. It is in my shed where I make wearable art to sell and subsequently receive hugely important recognition for my creativity. During this period of my depression I have been reluctant to market myself but despite this I still make sales and this is helpfully rewarding for me. I feel I have purpose and I’m contributing.

Finally, I dug a pond in our garden and it is already filled with water, planted with plants and artistically fringed with rocks. The birds like to drink from it and it’s already an oasis of calm for me to sit beside.

Having written about the positives, I now find I’m unable to write about the negatives. I’ll rephrase this - I do not want to write about the negatives, suffice to say I am so very tired, exhausted in fact, fighting with what seems all my might to remain in this world. I long so much for the peace I experienced when I was in the sea after leaping from the ferry in 2019. Expending my energy on fighting my depressing seems to me to be such a sad waste because I have none left to enjoy what I want to enjoy, this being my kayaking, wilderness immersion and all the joys the summer months have to offer. Having just written this, I realise the possibility of reversing this energy flow from sustaining my depression to sustaining my recovery from it. If only this were so easy. I can see the possibility for this but right now, it’s frustratingly beyond my grasp.

Writing like this is hugely helpful for me and I’m grateful to those of you who read my ramblings. As I type these words now, I sense a positive shift within me and recognise the glimmers of change ahead. I know this tide of depression will turn and I will once more be moving ahead with the flow of life. My head tells me this truth constantly but my depression is a wily opponent and manages to sow the seeds of doubt and manipulates my frailty with so very powerful beliefs of my inadequacy and a strong sense of self-loathing. I’m longing for the strength to begin to turn these beliefs around. Until then, I trust in all the positives I have outlined here in this blog entry and hold close to me heart the words Karen so often tells me - “I think you’re amazing for your strength”

Thank you to all of you from the bottom of my heart,

State of Play

I’m staring down the rabbit hole of my depression and I’m scared shitless. I don’t mind admitting this. I have been in touch with my Community Mental Health Nurse and I have in place the support I need to keep me safe. Within an hour of me texting her this week, she phoned me back and we have been in regular contact since. I cannot express anymore than I have before, how much I appreciate the professional support I receive from our NHS mental health team. However, no matter how caring the folks are, at the end of the day. my keeping well is down to me. This rabbit hole is a familiar one and this time it’s a particularly dark one. I have an urge to express myself and write about what I’m experiencing. I have a sense this may help me work my way back to the bright, colourful sunlight of the summer. Thank you for taking the time to read this and to hear me out.

The warning signs were there a few weeks back. I noticed changes in my thinking and how I perceived myself and how generally my mood was slowly beginning to diminish - I was losing my spark. The contentment I had been enjoying in my life was being eroded to be replaced with increasing thoughts of self-criticism and self-dislike. “It’s a blip” I told myself. “I can expect my mood to dip from time to time.” So I decided to sit things out and wait for the beginnings of this deepening gloom to shift. After all it was early summer, the months of May and June which are my absolute favourite months of any year. It is when the fecundity of Nature and life, which abounds during these weeks inspires in me a sense of joy. Indeed, there was a long period when all my stars were in alignment. I was engaging in what I love most in life, immersing myself in wild nature and in turn I was rewarded with some truly incredible experiences which reinforced my hard won conviction that life was worth being around for - to be lived at its fullest! There was entering Fingal’s Cave in my kayak on a perfectly calm day. Sitting alone with the early summer Puffin arrivals on the island of Lunga, enjoying my human solitude and my companionship with the wild life around me. Then there were the three days of exploring the Small Isles in my kayak when I was privileged to encounter a friendly and exuberant pod of dolphins just below Ardnamurchan Lighthouse, the film footage of which went viral and propelled me into a short period of recognition from around the world. It seemed then that I was reaping the rewards of steadily speaking of my connection to Nature and how this helps my mental health. I met the dolphins again about a month later and again their obvious enjoyment in swimming alongside me in my kayak captivated nearly 200 000 people on Twitter.

In these early weeks of the summer months my life was as joyful and unencumbered with depressive thinking and feeling as I ever remember it being. I truly believed recovery from my depression was within my grasp.

Now, in the space of a few weeks this bonhomie I had been enjoying with myself has evaporated to be replaced with a self-loathing so fierce, it has taken even me aback. To explain this self-loathing a little. It’s literally looking in the bathroom mirror and hating my reflected image. Not how I look (though I do see myself as a complete shaggy disaster), but the face of a man who I dislike immensely. I’m a person who rarely takes against people, in general preferring to see the good in most, but in those rare moments when I do, my dislike is fierce and uncompromising. Right now, I am the person I most hate in the world.

No matter what positive messages I receive from those who love me and who are my friends, I only hear what I believe is unsaid - criticism of who I truly am. The man in the mirror who I hate is a fraud and this man is me. I talk of Nature being healing and yet I do not allow this to be true for myself. I’m good at talking the talk and because of this I hate the sound of my own voice. So much so I choose to speak as little as possible to prevent me hearing the words uttered from my mouth. Most of all though, I hate who I am and who I have been. I look back and see a swathe of errors of judgement, mistakes, wrongs committed on others, hurt, pain, slights, deceptive inauthenticity and general misdeeds. A recent visit to my family down in England served to reinforce many of these thoughts and beliefs, after all, I consider myself to be a total embarrassment to my family who deserved (and continue to deserve) so much more from me.

I think by now I am making my point. I dislike myself intensely.

The odd thing with all this is that there is in within me the knowledge that all the self-hatred I’m experiencing right now is untrue. It is my depression which is causing me to think like this and as I so often tell myself, this period of intense discomfort will pass. I will come through to the light again and begin to realise the good within me and my capacity to positively touch the lives of those around me. Somehow though there is a corruption of my positive synapsis’ and instead any thoughts of hope are diverted and quashed. This is where I wish I could describe this in greater clarity. There is within me a battle for supremacy, my depression over my authentic healthy self. It is not that I see myself as a ‘poor victim’ and need saving by anyone who wants to save me. Far from it, I seek the support I need and accept this is an internal battle I must fight myself. However, this can be exhausting - literally so. It takes considerable effort to remain coherent to the world around me while at the same time internally fighting feelings of alarm, fear, self-hatred and desperation. Quite literally, I ache for the time to go to bed when I can take my dose of Zopiclone and ease myself towards the relative haven of unconscious sleep. Only this respite is fleeting because I normally wake again in the early hours to a rush of disturbing thoughts.

When I started this post, I said I was scared. I am frightened of being really ill again. I do not want to be so ill I end up in hospital again and yet, I crave the release suicide would give me. I am thinking of my suicide and consider seriously the benefits my death would bring for me and those who I affect through my tumultuous way of living. I wrote a blog post in 2018 about my relationship with suicidal ideation which I think expresses with some clarity what I face with this - here. It is sufficient to say I’m fearful where my thinking about suicide is leading me at the moment. Basically, I’m so fucking tired of fighting this illness, I ache for the release my suicide will give me. Death will be so absolutely final, and while this is the reality, it is an incredibly attractive one.

However! And yes there is a however. There is within me a notion of self-preservation which is why I reached out to my CPN and asked for her support. I’m prepared to trust myself to the professional help available to me. Additionally, as much as it may seem so through what I have written so far, I have not given up and I continue to function, even to the point of continuing to make jewellery, one thing I find gives me a sense of purpose and a level of internal peace. Admittedly, I have Transglobal Underground playing loudly on repeat through my headphones to distract me from my thinking, but each day at 5pm I close my work-shed with some sense of accomplishment.

This then is the chink of hope, even if at the moment I cannot see hope or even feel it. After all my desire to do the things I normally enjoy such as walking and kayaking have completely disappeared, replaced with a self-incriminatory lethargy. One thing I know is to work within these chinks as they appear, to appreciate them and to accept every opportunity towards recovery they offer. Right now, creating wearable art is the one thing which is offering me positivity in the midst of the descending blackness within me. I notice as I write these words, there is a recognition that not all is bleak, and despite what I might believe to be true, I am not totally useless. Finding my way into making a small living from my creativity is proving to be more than I could have ever hoped for.

This Week’s Production

So, what now? I am here and I’m not ready to give in. I hate where I am right now (within myself that is) and I am desperate for respite from this. At the moment I am safe and I make assurances to remain safe. I have more than enough cognitive resonance to understand what I am living through at the moment is pretty tough but this purely is due to my depression and will ease over time. My fear of sinking further into my depression is real and exists and this leads me into the tangled web of it all. It’s like untangling a hopeless knot of string - there just seems to be no solution or end to it all.

Please don’t be overly concerned for me. The fact I have written this and shared it so openly is an indication I am positively working to overcome this particular bout of severe low mood. Thank you for reading what I have written and please know I truly appreciate all the generously warm comments I receive here and on my various Social Media platforms.

I sincerely hope what I share is of interest and help to many.

Thank you.