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.

Optimal

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This morning, as I write this, I’m feeling a strong sense of accomplishment. For fifteen consecutive days my blood pressure readings have been within the ‘normal’ range. This morning I received two ‘optimal’ readings, the first when I awoke at 6am and the second on my return from walking Ziggy at 9am. I usually take my blood pressure three times a day to note the changes through the day and after exercise.

When I was admitted to the psychiatric ward in Lochgilphead in the Autumn last year, there was some consternation regarding my blood pressure readings which were regularly recorded as part of the admission process. This was when I was alerted to the fact my blood pressure was high. It was only in the run up to Christmas I began to take my blood pressure at home on a regular basis and I was shocked to learn how high it really was. I wasn’t surprised because by then I was heavily overweight and was suffering from regular severe headaches. I was also extremely unfit, finding it difficult to walk any distance uphill without having to stop and gasp for breath.

Over the Christmas and the New festivities my blood pressure began to regularly record at the top end of the range on our sphygmomanometer, which created some concern for my wife who instructed me to make an appointment with the GP as soon as the holidays were over.

True to form I resisted her requests and instead vowed to attend to the issue myself. I think it was in this moment I realised how important it was for me to regain control of my life. For much of 2021 I had been held in the grip of a severe bout of my depression and as I began to emerge from this before Christmas, I was sensing the realistic opportunities for my mental wellness. During my depression through the latter half of the year, I had neglected my overall health and well being. I lost all interest in my passion for sea kayaking and active enjoyment in the outdoors. My diet was allowed to deteriorate into regular binges of comfort food, namely supermarket pizzas, burgers, curry take away and other such meals. It seemed too much effort to chop and prepare vegetables to enjoy more wholesome meals.

My sense of self loathing was accentuated by the speedy spreading of my girth. My clothes no longer fitted me and when I looked at my body I was filled with self-disgust. I realised too I was drinking heavily in the evenings, so much so, I was putting away a bottle of malt whisky every week. I hated myself for my descent into seemingly bottomless apathy and the total disregard for my health. To be honest, because of the suicidal ideation I was experiencing at the time, I cared little if I were to die from heart failure and I’m sure I sometimes relished the possibility of this occurring.

Then, with the advent of the New Year and the fact I was seeing the end of my bout of depression, I made only one resolution for the year ahead. To lose weight. By the seventh of January my festive bottles of whisky were finally empty and my resolve was set. The following morning I set off into the mid winter gloom and driving rain for what has become my daily hour long walk which takes in a final steep ascent back to the house. Needless to say, I found myself regularly stopping to catch my breath during that first fast walk but this only strengthened the realisation I had to regain my health.

I went cold turkey; no more coffee, no whisky or any alcohol, no snacks, no salt, no sugar and no processed meals at all. Such was my determination I actually enjoyed a perverse pleasure in denying the cravings I began to experience. I remember thinking at the time how I perversely enjoyed the agonising rigours of a long hard day at sea in my kayak, when I will have battled against the wind and tide to reach a far off destination. During such experiences a huge part of me would be crying out to give in but there was always a more determined and stronger part which drove me forwards. The same was now true in my quest to lose weight.

The first ten days of my abstinence showed great results and my weight slid off me at a rewarding rate. Then this slowed to some days with no weight loss and a few times even a gain. It would have been easy in these moments to dramatically throw my hands up and succumb to a delicious breakfast roll from the corner store here in Tobermory, or phone in a mouth watering order to our local Indian restaurant. However, again it was my experiences gained on my kayaking expeditions which helped me through these potentially low moments. Out there at sea, whenever I found myself struggling and questioning my reason for undertaking a challenge, I’ve always managed to somehow picture the end goal and the reward which would come with this. Often this would be something as simple as realising only in a few hours time I would be ashore, my camp set up and I’d be enjoying a welcome mug of tea and eating a meal. This was true for these moments now when I felt challenged with not losing weight and disheartened if I gained any. I found myself forecasting with clarity the sense of wellbeing I will feel in a couple of months time when I’m at my optimal weight again. I found no difficulty in viewing the task of losing weight as akin to one of my extended sea kayaking challenges. It was all about the daily achievements which totalled together added to the eventual success.

As a result of working at losing my weight, it’s been pleasing to see my blood pressure slowly descend and with this, the reduction in headaches and the overall physical lethargy I had accepted as normal. Now my morning walks are merely forty five minutes and I march up the steep hill to the house without breaking stride or gasping deeply. My weight continues to fall away, gradually every day. I now count in days the moment when I reach the point when I’m no longer overweight for my height and age, though I have a fair distance to go to reach the weight I eventually want to reach. This though, feels to me to be a pleasing challenge to be faced with.

If all this sounds like self-indulgent back clapping, I suppose it is. I’m not averse to admitting this, because I’ve the sense it’s been far too long since I’ve experienced such a strong feeling of positive wellbeing. As with my sea kayaking exploits, it’s the moments of sitting back and reflecting on the day’s endeavours when I allow myself to bask in the satisfaction of a challenge overcome and a goal well achieved.

This is what I’m feeling this morning.

Similarly, as with my kayaking expeditions, I realise the challenges are not over, and there are many more days ahead filled with expended effort and a sense of digging deep. But knowing I have the fortitude to face this, is what gives me hope and the realistic opportunity of becoming fully well again, and keeping well.

New Boots

This blog post is dedicated to Toby Carr who died on 10th January. He and I never met but we were online friends. His courageous, adventurous and gentle spirit inspired me, and I’ll miss his presence and all he was so generous to share.

Karen gave me a pair of boots for Christmas. I think they are imbued with magic because I’ve found myself walking in them just about every day since I received them. I’ve fallen in love with walking again. I’ve walked over ninety miles in them already! They’re made by Vivobarefoot who have an innovative and ethical approach to designing and producing a wide range of footwear. I think they are the most comfortable boots I’ve ever worn.

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These boots have come to epitomise my recovery process over recent weeks. Normally at this time of year, I’m feeling blue with grim anticipation for the long pull out of winter. Instead, this year I’m feeling bubbly and buoyant which is absolutely fantastic. 2021 closed well for me and this new year holds plenty of promise. Enjoying an extended, relaxed and happy festive period with Karen certainly helped - though I think there is more at play than this. The therapy I was fortunate to receive in the Autumn and the run up to Christmas was a vital component for which I’m eternally grateful. Linked with this, the continued support I receive from my Community Psychiatric Nurse is important too.

There is within me a settled determination to overcome my depression through positive action. I’m at that point in my recovery journey, when I believe I can literally cure myself through activity and adventure. Indeed, over the last couple of weeks I’ve enjoyed active time in the outdoors just about every day. It’s almost as if my new boots are calling for me to put them on and go exploring. I’ve this sense of coherence with regard to my personal struggle with my depression. My thinking has cleared and is no longer ravaged with thoughts of low self-worth and self-disgust. The clarity I’m experiencing is like the air after it’s been freshly laundered by a heavy rain shower. The haze I’ve been experiencing has been replaced with spotless views, so sharp, they take my breath away.

With my newly acquired coherence comes the awareness, I need to be cautious - not to leap forward like a horse from its stall and rush headlong into a race against myself to be come totally well again. In my experience, this has sometimes led to a crash and a deeper depression. However, it’s difficult not to feel excited about the opportunities before me this year, and be eager to fully engage with the world. Certainly, this eagerness has motivated me well so far this year.

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Recognising a need to be realistic, I set myself only one resolution at New Year. All the rest are exciting aspirations. My resolution is to lose weight. I began this year 12kgs overweight and I’ve managed to lose 2.1kgs since I set my goal. It helps me to align losing weight with my recovery process, to accept it takes time and there’ll be challenges along the way. Again, I find myself thinking of my boots and how much I enjoy walking in them, working up a sweat, puffing my way towards a rewarding summit or a hidden waterfall I’ve wanted to find. The rewards are not simply the views but a sense of achievement and the knowledge my health is being enhanced. I’ve been suffering from pretty high blood pressure too, with it peaking rather alarmingly over Christmas. It’s pleasing to see it returning to a more normal and healthy level, particularly when I return from time out in my kayak or a long walk.

My aspirations for the year ahead are more ethereal; live with purpose, be more present, enjoy more fun, find my laughter again, revel in the wonders of Nature, and many more like those. With the spectre of my depression drifting further away from me, I find myself believing anything is possible this year. I’m feeling strong. I’m feeling creative. I’m feeling adventurous. I’m feeling impish. Who knows what opportunities I’ll encounter.

I’m inspired to live life as fully as possible. Toby Carr reiterated this for me with his sad passing and through the fullness of his well-lived life. So too have the ravages of the pandemic. Life is tenuous and not to be taken for granted. It’s so incredibly powerful for me to understand this, to know this and to embody this too, because only a few months ago, I was fighting not to end my life through my suicide. Thankfully it’s now difficult for me to reconnect with those deep levels of despair, so much so, I find it hard to imagine feeling that way again.

So here’s to 2022 and all it will offer. My warmest wishes to you and as always, thank you for your continued love and support.

Plans Afoot - Rock Climbs, Lighthouses & Islands

All of a sudden it is Autumn! The evenings are noticeably drawing in, there is chill to them too and I noticed this morning in Aros Park how the trees are changing colour. Many people tell me they love this season best of all but for me, it feels like a sad one. The long, warm summer days have come to an end and the prospect of a long dark winter ahead never fills me with eager anticipation. I have lived for well over half my life in the northern hemisphere but originating from the African tropics as I do, my blood runs thin and I am not a winter person. I love the warmth and of course the sunshine too.

This sense of sadness is heightened with an awareness I’ve missed most of the summer because of a long and lingering dose of severe depression. For two months I was laid low because of my recurring illness, incapacitated by severe low mood, dark thoughts of suicide and a general debilitating energy sapping malaise. Thankfully I seem to be on my way towards wellness again, though I have to say it seems like an achingly slow road. Despite my continuing lethargy and sometimes crippling anxiety, I’m once more looking ahead, rather than negatively inwardly.

A week ago I turned 58 and this gave me cause to consider what I wanted from my year ahead. I want to be well, that goes without saying. I want to enjoy adventures and I want to strengthen my connection to the natural world I inhabit. I have a desire too to reconnect with old friends and to meet new ones too. For too long, probably the last ten years, I’ve lived a solitude existence, far away from core friendships which are so important to me. On the other hand I have forged many genuine friendships through my social media presence, many of who I have yet to meet in person. It is my hope, I will realise many of these friendships in the months and year to come.

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My Quiet Place in My Shed With My Three Books of Inspiration, A Climbing Harness & My Treasured Map Of West Coast Scotland.

Here is my plan to make these aspirations happen. I treated myself to a book I used to love trawling through when I worked as an instructor with Outward Bound. It was a staple of all the Outward Bound staff rooms I had the pleasure of enjoying through the years. ‘Classic Rock’, a coffee table book, is a wonderful compilation of the finest easy-(ish) rock climbs in the British Isles. It’s a book from the late 1970s when rock climbing was beginning to become a popular and an easily accessible activity. I was introduced to traditional multi-pitch climbing in the Moelwyns in North Wales in 1984. From that first route, ‘Slick’, a wonderful 80 metre rambling route graded Very Difficult (VDiff), I became an avid climber. I was never accomplished, in that I climbed the harder grades but I did enjoy the long ‘big boot’ routes (as I termed them) found on the innumerable crags and mountains of Wales, the Lake District and Scotland. These are the routes which feature in the book I recently bought. None of these routes is harder than Very Severe (VS), most being graded VDiff. The grade Very Difficult is really a misnomer. It describes a route which is easy to follow, enjoys positive hand holds and foot holds, and generally provides an enjoyable stress free ascent of the mountain crag. There will be some moments when the pulse may run somewhat faster, but this will probably be because of a sense of exposure rather than any actual difficulty.

It is usual in traditional multi-pitch rock climbing to climb in pairs, with a good friend, where one person takes the lead and the other becomes the second. I won’t go into the ins and outs of the traditional multi-pitch rock climbing process suffice to say, if the route is rewardingly challenging, then the pair will leave the crag with a sense of accomplishment and a wonderful shared memory to return to.

Anyway, my plan is to climb as many of the Scottish routes described in ‘Classic Rock’ in the year to come (such as Cioch Direct on the Isle of Skye featured in the adjacent slide show, climbed with Mrs LifeAfloat). I might venture south to the Lake District to complete a few there, but the reality will be I’ll struggle to climb even half the twenty six featured Scottish routes which are widely spread around the Highlands and Islands. My intention is to use the excuse of pairing up for a rock route as a means of reconnecting with old friends and maybe meeting new ones too. I remember with fondness many of the fine shared moments in the mountains and on exposed circuitous routes with Outward Bound friends in my distant past.

When we moved onto our yacht in 2012, I gave away all my rock climbing gear which is something I hugely regret. This means I have to build my kit up from scratch which is no mean feat given the expense of rock climbing gear now. My jaw drops when I look at the prices of essential items! However, it does mean I will have brand new kit and not be using my previously questionable out of date gear, much of which I had owned since the mid-80s. I’m certainly going to have to up my game with my creativity and sell a lot of jewellery and art to afford kitting myself out again.

Karen recently bought me a wonderful book written by Donald S Murray about Scotland’s Lighthouses. I have often thought it would be a lovely project to visit as many of these structures in my sea kayak. I will have paddled past a large number of them in 2015 when I circumnavigated Scotland and the Islands. However, there are many I have yet to see and there are those I have seen but would like to visit ashore. I think it’s because of my ease with solitude and wildness which makes the thought of being a light house keeper a romantically appealing one for me. I love the thought of living a simple but structured existence somewhere on the remote and wild Scottish coastline, or island or indeed, a rocky skerry. It is the lighthouses constructed on the latter which prove the most challenging for me to reach and land on, such as Skerryvore Lighthouse perched on a jagged rocky reef, washed by heavy Atlantic swells, sixteen kilometres south west of the Isle of Tiree.

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Corsewall Point Lighthouse, Galloway

Again it would be lovely to share these kayaking lighthouse visitations with friends, sharing delight in exploring the intricacies of the Scottish coastline and camping overnight in remote and hard to reach wild locations.

This is certainly not a project I would hope to complete in my 58th year. It’s very much a long term one and probably will not be fully realised before I’m to old to paddle safely far offshore. Another long term project is visiting as many of the 900+ Scottish the islands before it’s time to hang up my kayaking paddles for good. Many of these islands are eloquently described in Haswell-Smith’s beautifully illustrated, hugely informative and well researched coffee table book, ‘The Scottish Islands’. As it is for for many mountaineers and walkers, ticking off the list of Munros, the 282 mountain peaks above 914 metres in height in Scotland, there is a compelling desire within me to visit as many of the Scottish islands as possible by kayak. If I trawled through my memories, I’m certain I’ll create a pretty long retroactive list of islands I have already landed on. I intend too, to resurrect my idea of sleeping on a different island off the Isle of Mull every month in my bivvy bag (under the stars) and this is certainly a project which will keep me entertained for the next twelve months. In resurrecting this plan, I’ll make more of an effort to raise the profile of Odyssey, the cancer charity I’m very proud to be an ambassador for.

What I have outlined above may seem overly ambitious, especially for a increasingly overweight man no longer enjoying the nimble fitness of his youth. Indeed, I am mindful of being cautious and not setting myself aspirations which will be too challenging to attain. There is the danger too of shooting out of the trap like a greyhound after a hare and ending up brought up short and winded, because I’m simply too eager to be well again. This is a familiar experience for me and the consequences for not managing this carefully can be dangerous because I might find myself tumbling backwards into another deep depression, experiencing a sense of failure and inadequacy. There is a fine line between being ambitious and over ambitious. I think I have tended to relate to the latter and generally I have got away with my chutzpah. I think for me, what I enjoy most in planning these adventures is the creation of them in my mind and wondering about their possibility and potential. I often say to folks that the advent of Google Earth has been a dangerous tool for me - it’s all to easy for me to draw a line from one place to another and say to myself, I can kayak that. I simply love reading maps, noticing intriguing spots in the landscape, checking these out on Google Earth, and then dreaming of visiting them. There is sometimes a sense of rising panic within me when I realise I probably do not have enough lifetime left to visit all the places I want to in Scotland!

I need these adventurous aspirations to work towards for the motivation they provide. It’s not enough to tell myself I will simply get out into the wilds whenever I feel like it, because now I’m living comfortably ashore again, I’ve somewhat lost the incentive to get outdoors because I feel separated from the natural realm. Now I have a warm and cosy shed to work in, it’s all too easy for me to hunker down in there day after day, losing sight of my adventurous roots and the earthy anti-depressant qualities of Nature.

It’s all too easy for me to be tough on myself with high expectations and a strong drive to achieve. However, by setting out these aspirations for my 58th year, I’m hopeful I’ll inspire myself to become active again and to make a meaningful connection to the world I live in.

My story continues.

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.

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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,

World Mental Health Awareness Week - Wednesday - Self-kindness

It’s not lost on me how easy it is to offer kindness to others and not as simple to offer it to myself. In fact, being kind to myself can be an anathema for me. The compassion I hold for others does not it seems, apply to myself. I believe this is not unusual for folks who struggle with depression and in my case, self-cruelty and unkindness are the features of my constant depressive rumination.

I wrote yesterday how receiving unconditional kindness from so many people is invaluable for my recovery. This is because these acts of compassion become models for me to emulate with regard to caring for myself. Implementing this awareness is a huge challenge for me, particularly because I’m so heavily self-critical. My wife Karen with her custom loving tolerance will often challenge my many self-defeating outbursts by asking, “Would you say that to someone else?”

Invariably my reply is, “No I wouldn’t… but then that’s different.” There is of course no difference. Why is it OK for me to severely cuss my self when I wouldn’t do the same to anyone else?

I believe for me the key lies in acceptance. This is not an acceptance for who I am at a deeper existential level, but an acceptance of my depression as an illness. After a period of sound mental health and when my mood is beginning to slip towards a depressive episode, I will almost deny that this is occurring and there is a possibility I may become ill again. I avoid acknowledging my deepening gloom and instead push myself harder to effect an outward sense of indomitableness. I make plans for greater adventures and live my life at a an aspirational pace I’m unable to match. I simply don’t entertain the possibility of another bout of depressive frailty. Indeed, when I do begin to realise my mood is deepening I disavow depression as the cause. I attribute this to a weakness within me and so begins my cyclical struggle with severe self-criticism.

It was only during my last hospital admission last year, I realised (with considerable excitement) that my depression is an illness and importantly, I am not my depression. Understanding this has been crucial in my ability to accept I am liable to repeated depressive episodes when I may become ill again. After all, my prognosis is ‘treatment resistant depression’. If and when these may occur I am hopeful I will embody this knowledge soon enough for me to access the element of self-compassion so crucial to my recovery process.

The moment I begin to ease up on myself and offer self-kindness, my road out of my depression will be so much less painful and easier.

World Mental Health Awareness Week 2020 - Tuesday - Kindness

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Love and Compassion

When reflecting about todays blog entry, I realised in my life with depression I’ve experienced nothing but unconditional kindness. In fact, searching through my memory banks, I’m aware more of the kindness shown to me by others than general acts of unkindness. I have therefore been fortunate in my life to have been surrounded by people with warm hearts.

I often say when describing living with my depression, having regularly visited the darkest places within my psyche and being, I’ve had the privilege of deep insight. As painful and dangerous as these times have been for me, I’ve come to realise the importance of love, in particular the love shown to me by others. Without this love I doubt I will have survived.

The wonderful aspect of humanity is our innate capacity for compassion. As a person who suffers, and who has made my suffering public, I enjoy experiencing compassion from others on a daily basis. Every day I encounter acts of kindness which soothe me and validate my existence. Receiving compassion is an unconditional act of recognition, a fulfilment of a vital human psychological drive. Without recognition for who I am, I doubt very much I would see much reason to fight as hard as I do to overcome my depression.

Compassionate kindness then is a fundamental element in assisting a vibrant recovery process from my depression, and importantly, maintain a strong healthy sense of self. In my experience kindness occurs in many guises, some expected and most unexpected. Kindness is the human expression of feelings of care and love for others and in most instances is processed out of our awareness. A smile is probably the simplest act of kindness we perform and one which carries considerable potency. Receiving a smile a stranger in an unexpected moment of internal stress can alleviate feelings of powerlessness, providing a warm glow of recognition and human support. Without much thought, everyday we perform acts of kindness for those we love, our friends and our colleagues. Likewise too, we offer kindness to people we don’t know. For example, we may offer a space in a line of traffic for a driver waiting at a busy junction. We may put this down to simple good manners, but this act of selflessness may have had significant impact for the other behind the wheel who might be facing a tough day ahead. Our casual wave and the briefest of eye contact may have been enough to alter a deepening sense of gloom for the person.

This then, is why kindness has been and continues to be so incredibly important to me in my recovery from my depression. My experience of kindness is this - it’s always unconditional and it’s offered in these forms:

• love

• affection

• humanness / humanity

• patience

• tolerance

• sympathy

• good will

• tenderness

• forbearance

• courtesy

• gentleness

• respect

• unselfishness

• understanding

• grace

• robustness

• honesty

• individual

• humour

• empathy

• professional / professionalism

My attempt to end my life this time last year released a flood of kindness which buoyed me through my intense treatment in hospital and subsequent recovery. For three months while on the ward I received countless letters, cards and gifts from family, friends, friends I have yet to meet, and strangers. Every one of these acts of reaching out to me told me of my worth and were unconditional in their generosity. For this is what kindness means to me, it’s unconditional. The giver expects nothing substantial in return. There is no quid pro quo. In a way I had cried out in pain and others (you) responded with concern, warmth and love. Our innate human capacity for compassion.

The struggle I face with my depression is one based on overcoming a deep sense of low-worth. Simply put, I believe I have little of value to offer except a deeply flawed character with the tendency to harmfully affect my world around me. To receive unconditionally contrasting expressions of the opposite truth from so many people has undoubtedly helped me shift these self-destructive views I hold. Not only were these acts of kindness helpful during my hospital recovery, but they continue to be the case. In a box on a shelf next to the desk where I’m writing this I have every one of the cards and letters I have received in hospital and since. I dip into this box whenever I feel my mood beginning to dip. The written affirmations of love and concern for me will forever hold value.

Likewise too, I continue to receive messages of love and support through my social media outlets, in particular on Twitter. Here I receive nothing but overwhelming recognition for who I am and the life I live. Only once have I had to respond to a hurtful comment about my depression. Everyday I interact with my global community, I receive far more in return than I could ever expect or wish for. Everyday I’m thankful for the unconditional warmth I receive, even if it’s the simple act of acknowledging my contribution with a ‘like’. There are folks who I know I’ll never meet who show me incredible depths of kindness through their words and their attention to my presence within this online world.

Then too, there is the unconditional professional compassion I received and continue to receive from the psychiatric carers involved in my recovery. Here, the doctors, the nursing staff and support staff have chosen a profession where they will care for others, many in deep distress. I recognise the selflessness involved in their work where they give of themselves so others may recover. I am deeply grateful for their innate humanness given to me within the professional context of the hospital psychiatric ward where the intention was maintaining my safety and enhancing my recovery. When thanked to a person they replied that they were merely doing their job. I hope they know there to be an element of untruth to this response because they are special individuals.

Receiving kindness, particularly when in the depths of my depression can be tough as well as heart warming. There is a juxtaposition between acknowledging I am loved and recognised to believing the kindness to be unwarranted. While it is important for me to understand I hold worth for others, it is extremely difficult for me to believe this for myself. This then is where much of my struggle lies and indeed, it is a horrendous struggle at times. The fact kindness shown to me as a constant, is consistent and is forever unconditional is instrumental in helping me slowly shift the destructive beliefs I hold.

This kindness becomes a powerful reference point with which to base my recovery.

As per my ability to self-criticise, I do give myself a hard time for not always acknowledging acts of kindness shown to me. This may be in the form of a failure to respond to messages, Tweets, Facebook posts or cards and gifts. In the depths of my struggles and with huge amount of contact I receive, I find it difficult to physically keep on top of what I term to be ‘my admin’. Days and weeks will go by while I fight my depression, all the while building a deepening sense of guilt about not having responded to the kindness I’ve received. To this day I find myself shuddering with unhappiness with my lack of what I think to be the good grace to respond. It’s difficult to make amends for this except to focus my energy on my recovery in the knowledge this is what people are hoping for me.

It goes without saying I am deeply and truly grateful for all I have received from family, friends, social media contacts, professionals and strangers. Thank you seems such an inadequate expression but in our English language, those two words carry the greatest weight for me. I cannot (and will not) single out any specific expressions of kindness I’ve received and I hope for everyone who reached out to me, you know you have touched my life and you helped me make the decision to live and not to die.

Thank you.

World Mental Health Awareness Week 2020 - Monday

The theme for this years World Mental Health Awareness Week is kindness. This appeals to me greatly and I hope to expand on this when I write a daily blog over the coming week. My intention is to mark this week with personal insights into living with and recovering from severe mental health issues. Having kindness as the theme will certainly assist me in remaining grounded in one of my strongest recovery tenets, this being “be kind to myself”.

It’s probably best if I write an update about my recovery so far. It’s difficult to believe this time last year I was in hospital suffering from the worst episode of depression I had encountered. Indeed, I had attempted to end my life by jumping from the Isle of Mull ferry. You can read about this incident from an earlier blog post here. This hospital admission was tough for me but it provided me with the best opportunity for recovery I had experienced in many years. I returned home after three months on the ward with a renewed sense of self and a determination to overcome my illness.

As is often the case, the few months after hospital are the most hopeful for me and indeed, it seemed as if opportunities were falling into my lap. We made a significant change to our lifestyle by moving ashore from seven years of living on a yacht. This in itself was a huge investment in my recovery process because I hadn’t realised how insular my life had become on the boat. With recovery comes aspirations and I confidently made plans for the months to come and the following year ahead.

I wasn’t alone. I continued to receive generously warm professional support from my Community Psychiatric Nurse and regular appointments with the Psychiatrist. My wife too, as always, was the bedrock in assisting me maintain clarity and remain grounded when instability threatened. My wider family too were just a phone call away with their expressions of love and support. Friends and online acquaintances provided me with friendship and connection which helped me gain a sense of myself in the world.

The months leading up to the Christmas and New Year passed in a blur and I find it difficult to remember anything of note from that period. Mostly I recall a huge sense of relief of having made it out of the crisis I had found myself in earlier in the year.

I think my mood was dipping before Christmas but in the January of this year, I descended into a bout of deep depression. This time there was no catalyst, nothing I could define as a trigger. The winter months have always been tough for me but this itself was not the cause. It was another battle with my inner demons and my existential angst. The spectre of suicide became a concern for me again and this time, because I had made the attempt almost a year before, I knew I had it within me to carry through my desire to take my life. Quite simply, I believed once more, I have nothing to offer and my presence in the world is a burdensome waste. Allied with this was the increasing exhaustion of continually fighting to remain alive, indeed , merely function. Because I dipped so low again, I was on stand by for another hospital admission to keep me safe.

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Thankfully, and for no discernible reason, I have climbed out of the black pit I lived in since Christmas. It has been as recent as two or three weeks I have lost all thoughts of suicide and self-destructive thinking. I find myself enjoying my engagement with the world again. Hope is welling up within me once more and this is expressed in my increased activity. My connection with the outdoors has been a constant through my life which has served to enhance it even when I’m at my lowest. However, it’s always a sound indication of my recovery levels when I notice my positive presence in the outdoor realm. This is the first step to regaining a sense of self-worth. Despite the inhibitive lockdown, I have managed some wonderful long walks where I have relished my immersion within the wild landscapes I’m fortunate to live close to, even wild camping one night a week.

In an attempt to break my cycle of depression, earlier this year I had announced 2020 to be my year of adventure. I made a fairly good start too by bivouacking in some pretty challenging weather conditions (and enjoying this!). However, frustratingly, the pandemic brought me up short and like everyone else, I have been twiddling my thumbs aching to get back out in my kayak and venturing further afield. Despite my inactivity, I have used this time to evaluate the importance of adventure and wildness in my life. This time has been helpful for me to write about this and to plan future expeditions. Moreover, I have been honing the incredibly useful process of mindfulness, particularly during my periods of lockdown outdoor exercise.

I am in recovery from my depression, an almost continual and fluctuating process. At long last, once more, I see my potential and recognise my value. The key is maintaining this awareness and strengthening the foundations. I hope by sharing my insights every day this week, I will help raise awareness of what it means to live with chronic life threatening depression and the continual hope of recovery from this.

2020 - So Far

25th August! That is the date of my last entry in this blog. Shameful. Anyway I suppose, better later than never. Here goes.

Yesterday I watched the Scotland versus Ireland play in their opening games of the Six Nations Rugby competition, a hard fought contest between the nations of Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Italy and England. Sporting wise it is a highlight of my year for two reasons. I’m a fan of rugby (used to play it) and think this competition is the finest to watch. Also because the timing of the Six Nations contest marks the end of winter and heralds the promise of spring.

Of course, I want Scotland to feature well in the contest, even win it outright if possible and certainly beat the Auld Enemy, England to maintain our stewardship of the Calcutter Cup. The match between Ireland and Scotland yesterday was a well fought and bruising encounter. Ireland triumphed with 19 points to 12. Both teams were well matched and it was a close call right up to the final whistle. Watching the Scotland team surge close to their opponents try line again and again without success, suddenly clarified for me where I find myself at the moment. The Scotland team were strong, co-ordinated, fearless and at times played with flair. However, at the closest moments when they looked to score a try, they made a mistake and had a penalty awarded against them, or through mishandling, they allowed Ireland to regain the initiative. It was a Scottish onslaught after onslaught with fierce bravery, without success. Even when a try was scored, it was nullified because the player dropped the ball before he placed it on the ground. This moment epitomised Scotland’s fortunes.

I was on the edge of my seat watching the game. As it unfolded and witnessing Scotland’s game, I witnessed through their valiant efforts the experiences I face in my life at the moment. I suppose one of the reasons I haven’t written a blog post for a while is because I didn’t want to hark on about mental health and my depression. Somehow though, there’s no escaping this. I am fighting my depression at the moment as fiercely as Scotland faced Ireland yesterday. I face it head on and tackle it when it attempts to get the better of me, and when I do, I gain ground. Like Scotland’s efforts though, I am often overwhelmed and lose ground again. Since the festive period I have struggled with a bad dose of my depression. So much so, there has been some talk of another hospital admission. I certainly do not want this to happen. I’m determined not to give in and find myself on the ward again watching through the windows, my life pass by.

With a concerted effort to stay ahead of my illness, I have set myself a few achievable goals through the year to provide me focus and the joy of attainment. As you may guess, most of these tasks involve sea kayaking and my connection to the wild outdoors. In 2020 I aim to achieve the following;

• Kayak 2020 kilometres by the end of the year. Given I paddled 2997 km in four months during my 2015 journey around Scotland, I think this is eminently achievable. The summer months will see me undertake a number of long journeys.

• Solo bivouac on a different island for a night once a month through the year. The criteria being; the island must be no longer than 1000m and wider than 500m. I have to kayak to it. The island must be a complete island, not one which dries out at low tide to connect to the shore.

• Kayak around the Isle of Mull closely following the coastline, every loch and indentation.

• Begin a regular You Tube ‘vlog’ highlighting my life connected to the outdoors, my deeper connection through this process, talk more about mental health and how being outdoors helps my process of recovery. Talk about adventure and why this is so important in my life. With this in mind, talk about my approach to adventure, particularly because much of it is solo, and how I ascertain and manage the risks. In general too, share my life here on Mull as we explore the island by walking and camping. I’d like to also portray a number of film projects which interest me; waterfalls of Mull and the Iron Age remains on the island. I have created a long list of ideas.

• Become creative again and begin to make jewellery from found objects along the shoreline. I used to make jewellery from sea glass which is why I want to do something similar. It’ll help me if I can sell what I create to support funding for my projects.

• Finally of course, I have a book to write! I’m confident the reactivation of my physical and creative self, will inspire me with this endeavour.

Somehow though, like the Scotland Rugby team surging against the Irish yesterday, I find myself already feeling beaten back and my resolve tested. I am fighting (I use the word fight a lot), lethargy and sleepy tiredness. My medication, while keeping me above my lowest point, has the side affects of tiredness, trembles and marked problems with my balance. For example, on returning from my first bivouac on an island, I unwittingly capsized in my kayak and ended up swimming in the sea. Having kayaked probably at least 5000km since 2015 without an unintentional capsize, this came as a complete shock. Particularly since I was in Tobermory Bay where I had managed to reach paddling through a sizeable sea. I simply found myself falling to my right and unable to prevent my immersion. If this wasn’t bad enough, I lost my cherished GoPro camera. The saddest thing about this is I had recorded all the footage I needed to post my first vlog. What with the capsize and the loss of the film footage, I feel beaten and demoralised. Not only this, the camera will take time to be replaced because of expense. It is difficult for me to recognise my achievement in completing my island task because of these two disasters.

The effect of the loss of my camera has led me down a path of despondency and questions pertaining my ability to achieve anything in my life. I recognise this is my illness speaking to me, but it can be an overwhelming belief. The analogy of the Scotland rugby team dashing themselves against the redoubtable Irish and not quite achieving seems to be a true on for me. Running this analogy to its conclusion would be the awareness the game is not over until the final whistle, thus never give up hope.

What frustrates me is after my lengthy stay in hospital last year, I left there with renewed understanding on how I can combat my depression through using Cognitive Behavioural methods. At the moment for me, it’s grappling with the knowledge and forgetting how to apply it. I’m irritated by my lack of ability to put to use what I know to be effective.

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There are wider aspects of my life at the moment which cause me worry. The greatest of these is my broken relationship with the R.N.L.I. and the belief I have been exploited by the charity on a number of levels. I have a meeting with representatives of the organisation coming up where I hope my unhappy concerns will be heard and addressed. It’s more the sadness I feel about this which deepens my sense of depressive gloom. This situation also creates high levels of anxiety within me.

The side affects of my antidepressant medication are bothering me too. I ask myself daily what is the point of taking the medication if the quality of my life is affected by the very thing which should be enhancing it? I am jittery, my hand trembles so much so, I find myself clumsy when pouring my coffee for example (and you all know how important my morning coffee is to me). This affects my handwriting and simply when I’m trying to relax. The loss of co-ordination and balance dampens my spirits too. The simple task of taking Ziggy for his walk is sometimes a challenge when I stumble and fall backwards on steeper ground. Then there is the issue of my libido. This is non-existent and for a person who, as mostly every other human does, enjoys the intimacy of lovemaking, this is tough to bear. I do find intimacy with my wife through our deep affection and our love, but the physical expression of this has been absent in my life since my time in hospital. As a husband, this causes me worry and concern despite the assurances I receive indicating the opposite. I am in close consultation with my caring mental health professionals about managing my medication.

Then there is the task of writing my book. I admit here, I am woefully behind in even presenting a few worthwhile chapters for consideration. I know what I want to write and there are many times when I experience the urge to put my thoughts on paper. However, the moment I sit before my laptop, my energy grinds to a halt to replaced with self-doubt and concerns about my ability to write. Karen gave me a Christmas gift of a week long retreat at Monhiack Mor, the creative writers centre near Inverness, focussing on memoir writing which is essentially what my book will be. Again though, I’m pressurising myself to have a good amount of writing to present at the retreat.

It seems to me this has been a self-indulgent blog entry detailing my woes. I guess this is true. It is self-indulgent to share my challenges in a public forum, knowing I will undoubtedly receive many words and expressions of support from many of you. In fact though, these supportive responses are hugely helpful for me. One of the greatest challenges I face is the one of loneliness. Of course Karen is my constant in my life and she is wonderful offering her love, support and expressing her belief in me. I lack the companionship of friendship and so find myself seeking this through Twitter and Facebook. Here, I have very many people I call my friends, most of whom I have yet to meet. The friendship and unconditional support I receive from hundreds of folks, is immeasurably helpful. Again though, I resist ‘banging’ on in my Tweets or Facebook posts about my depressive state of mind, for fear of becoming burdensome and seeking continual attention.

To round this off, having written what I have, I feel a strong sense of hope. I know I will replace my camera and I’ll begin to create my vlogs. I know as the weather improves, I’ll be kayaking almost every day. Now we live in a wonderful house, we have visitors lined up to stay with us, thus easing my feeling of loneliness. I have achievable goals to enjoy completing. Finally, I’m honoured to be the key note speaker at the charity Odyssey’s 25th celebration dinner party in March. This fact alone has helped stabilise my sense of uselessness. In return for this opportunity, I have decided to make Odyssey my fundraising charity for the whole year. I will set up a JustGiving page not for one particular event but everything I do through the year. If folks feel inspired by my adventures and/or enjoy the stories I share, I hope they decide to make a donation to Odyssey.

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I will make it over this hump and I’m certain when I write here again, my mood will have considerably lifted. Thank you for taking the time to read this and as ever, for your unconditional support.