Recovery And The Future

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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.

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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.

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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.

Tricky Waters

Despite some wonderful sea kayaking in recent days and enjoying all the gloriousness wild nature has to offer, I find myself navigating tricky waters again. My mood is consistently fluctuating, where the dips are beginning to appear more frequently and are a little more deeper each time. I’m working really hard to ward off an enduring episode of depression by insisting I keep active, I do things which give me pleasure and I attempt to keep my thinking to mindful awareness and the reality this eschews. To say I am fragile at the moment is an admission of weakness which I do not like at all. I want to be seen as strong and healthy, not the whining, self-absorbed individual I view myself at the moment.

Fighting depression is determined hard work. It can be exhausting and right now, today and over recent days, I feel exhausted. Settled night time sleep for me is fractured and hard to come by at the moment. I’m very tired, but the moment I lay my head on the pillow, my mind is awash with a plethora of unwelcome, unbidden and self-depreciating thoughts, images and beliefs. When I’m worn out as I feel I am at the moment, suicidal thinking is very much an aspect of my reality.

In deciding to write this blog entry, I was thinking of my suicidal ideation and how this manifests itself in my life. Rather than rehash another description, it’s best if I point you towards a previous blog post I wrote a few years ago about this subject - here.

While the general points of that piece remain consistently applicable, the major change is the fact I have since then made a serious and almost successful attempt to complete my suicide. In short, my suicidal thinking has moved from a conceptual, albeit serious process, to one where I know in reality I have it within me to take the actual step to end my life. I now know I hold no fear of the moment of death or the manner of how I will die. I know exactly what it means to welcome the approach of death and the huge sense of release this embodies for me. With this one change since writing that entry, I understand I have to now pay particular attention to the levels of my suicidal ideation because of the seriousness of me enacting it if believe the need for me to die to be true. It makes openly voicing my thinking all the more important because this leads to the support which helps me regain a sense of balance and recover.

This is what I’m doing here by writing and posting this. I’m giving voice to the terrible thoughts which envelope my rationality at any given moment and time.

Death has been largely present in my mind for a few months and considering my death has become once more, increasingly prevalent. I wish this were not the case because the reality is, I have SO much happening in my life which is happy and good, and what is more, I have so much to look forward to as well. I feel pathetically self-indulgent in admitting this and this is the complex nub of the issue. It’s a never ending process of vacillation between the awareness of the happily real possibilities life holds for me, and the deep despair I hold about myself as a person and the tragedy of the world I inhabit.

There is no singular reason I should think of my suicide at the moment. There are many issues which are important to me and which affect me deeply. However, a couple of ‘triggers’ have reignited the current importance I’m placing on considering my suicide. The dreadful war in Ukraine continues to trigger my suicidal thinking every day. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling the tragedy of this needless war and being deeply affected by the daily images of wonton killing and destruction. What this does is lead me into overwhelming feelings of despair for the world and humanity in general. The Ukraine war is not the only vicious war being fought where cruelty is central to the brutality. There are many populations and communities around the globe who are facing inhuman degradation. And there is more. I find myself thinking of our existential battle with human consumption which is outstripping the natural resources of the planet to sustain us. All the while, collectively as a species, we are destroying the habitats and threatening life for all non-human species. The destruction occurring in Ukraine is emblematic of what is meted out to many of Nature’s inhabitants around the world, through the wanton destruction of habitats, industrial over fishing and so much more. This violence against Nature fills me with a deep sense of hopelessness and exhausts me.

Another recent trigger is the death at the weekend of our darling wee feral cat, Misty. She was hit by a car on the road behind our house. She died instantly and without suffering. I knew this before she died, and losing her has only heightened this awareness, I loved her deeply and truly cared for her very much. She came into our lives by chance and in the short couple of years she was with us, she contributed so much joy and happiness to our household. I will miss her characterful presence terribly. However, it is not her loss which is the trigger for me, it’s randomness of her death and the immediacy of it. One moment she was a carefree little cat with a lot of love and in a split second because of a speeding car, she is no longer here. Stroking her small body before burying her in the garden, I couldn’t help but feel envy that she had died so suddenly. I found myself envying her death and the eternal peace this brought. I now find myself wishing for the same and this is an alluring attraction which is difficult to shake.

All I have described above is what is occurring beneath my surface. These are my internal experiences and the outdoor rejuvenated personality I present, often belies the tumultuous thinking I struggle with. Behind the happy photos and films I share of the joy I experience of being alive in nature is a hidden turmoil. I’m determined not to allow this to overwhelm me again and this is why I write about it now. I am facing this head on and by giving voice to my experience of suicidal turmoil, I am at least being pragmatic, honest and real. It is helpfully therapeutic for me to write and share. I’m not asking for intervention in any shape or form. Instead, I write to tell the world I am fighting my fight and this is happening even if this is not evident in how I present myself.

As always, I will bring this to a close by clearly stating I am safe. I have no plans to complete my suicide and I do not think I’m in danger of acting on my ideations on a whim. I’m working hard to live well and make the most of the life I’m so fortunate to enjoy. My recovery from deep depression is an ever ongoing process.

If what I have shared here has impacted you, please seek support in the best way you know how and please take the steps to look out for yourself.

As always, thank you for reading my writing.

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.

Emerging Into The Light

Finally! I have some happy news to share in a blog post. A few days ago, seemingly out of the blue, I felt a sudden shift in my mood, where almost bodily and sensationally, I experienced a feeling of self-goodwill and positivity. I hadn’t experienced either of these, even in the slightest way, throughout this lengthy depressive episode. As with understanding the triggers for my depression, it’s useful to understand the triggers for a recovery process out of it too. To be honest, I can’t be sure if I can pinpoint specific moments or events which sparked a positive change in my self-perception, but I’m aware of various influencing factors. Before I outline the most notable of these, I want to describe what it feels like for me, right now at the point I’m aware I’ve successfully turned the corner with this particularly bad episode of depression.

I feel punch drunk, or maybe more descriptively, heavily hungover (without the boaking). I’m exhausted but relieved to have come through unscathed. I’m relieved too I did not end up in hospital this time, despite almost continually feeling overwhelmingly suicidal. There is a sense of embarrassment where, like after a riotous drunken party, I remember I was the only one who streaked naked down the high street (I apologise if this’s now an image you cannot shake). When I read back through my earlier blog posts and look at some of my social media contributions, I have this feeling of vulnerability, like I have shared too much - too openly. I don’t feel any shame and it’s important for me to state that, but there is embarrassment. I don’t like the suspicion I have which is; I was only sharing my recent experiences to garner sympathy and possibly more darkly, to gain notoriety. It’s important for me to believe I was sharing so openly as a means of accessing the first rungs of the ladder for my own recovery by outlining to myself more than anyone else, what was happening for me. It’s also important for me when as a spin off to this, I hear what I have written has been helpful to others, either struggling with depression too, or finding some understanding of what may be occurring for a loved one or friend. Knowing from the comments and messages I have received from so many people, what I have shared has been important and informative, is hugely rewarding for me and this leads me to my first important depression beating influencing factor .

Despite many times and for many days sometimes constantly feeling bereft of any hope, there was within me the desire to fight my way through and survive. There were many times when I denied this reality to myself and to others, but it is there within me, and by writing and sharing as I did, I was somehow reminding myself my depression is sadly a permanent part of me and I must have a respectful relationship with it. Not experience it as definitive outside factor where I believe I’m forced towards the inevitability of choosing to end my life. The dreadful beliefs I experience in the midst of my depressive distress; I’m a worthless person, a hateful individual, a fraud, a terrible husband, a useless son, a feckless father, a horrible friend, and so much more, are not the reality. It’s my illness which is leading me to think and believe all of the above. Sharing as I did and will continue to do, challenged the destructive depressive myth I do not deserve to live, or too, I’m exhausted with fighting the illness, fighting the annihilating thinking and simply fighting incapacitating bouts of anxiety and I want out. As I write this (see, it does help me to share), I recognise a growing sense of self-pride - I have successfully reached the other side and I have managed this without serious harm.

All of these positive influencing factors merge with each other and do not stand alone. Despite recognising my enduring sense of self-preservation, I could not have made it through totally on my own. I owe a huge amount of recognition and appreciation to the unconditional love I receive from Karen, my wife. She is a tower of strength in my life and she burdens herself with me for many long periods when I need support the most. Never judgemental, or openly frustrated and angry, or unhelpfully rescuing, she allows me to find my own path through the morass of the depressive episode, always there to offer me guidance when I ask for it and never unsolicited. Her simple acts of love expressed through warm words of affection and all embracing hugs and kisses are particularly powerful for me. There is simplicity in our animal humanness where warm touch and words of devotion carry so much potency.

The same is true for the incredible professional support I received over the last eight weeks. It is the individual humanity of the various NHS Scotland professionals I interacted with which offered me the greatest assistance when I required it most. I always felt heard and understood and what is hugely important, I realised I was responsible for my own recovery. It was not up to any of them to perform this task for me. Knowing that at the point of crisis, I had the relatively easy ability to turn for their support, enabled me to totally trust my local Community Mental Health Service. Quite simply, if at any time I felt overwhelmed with keeping myself safe (not completing my suicide), all I had to do was present myself (by phone or personally) at our local hospital or GP surgery and steps would be taken to intervene in my crisis. I can’t overstate how important this was for me. Even in those moments when I was sure I was ready to leave the house and enact my carefully devised plan for my death, I held onto the safety net which had been so effectively place within my reach by my CPN. I have a crisis plan which is typed up and I have pinned on my notice board in my creative shed. This has been an incredibly simple but powerful preventer and served many times to slow my thinking down and aid me in making a rational choice.

It goes without saying, allied to the humanity I experienced professionally, I experienced this socially too. I know how so many people; family, friends, friends I have yet to meet and strangers were rooting for me. There is incredible power in our humanness and our (your) capacity for unconditional expressions of love, kindness and support. In those darkest moments when I struggled to access any healthy rationality, I felt held by the wide and diverse community which has built up around me and my persona as ‘LifeAfloat’. Many times thinking of this community (you), helped me ground myself in the reality I am regarded and liked.

I have a good friend who has recently embarked on her personal journey with cancer and like me with my depression, she is choosing to be open about this with the wider world. Her contributions have been powerfully inspirational for me, particularly when she eloquently writes about the importance and pleasure she finds in living her life to the fullest each and every day. Reading her words whenever she shared them, served as a challenge to me - how could I be considering to end my life when she was ardently striving to survive hers in the fullest way she could? As I worked away at my jewellery making, I found myself pondering this a lot.

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This leads me on to how remaining steadfast with my creativity was also an important factor in keeping me out of hospital or worse. I had a sense of purpose every day and more than this, I had a sense of accomplishment too. Whenever I’ve been in hospital because of my depression, it has been Occupational Health which so often unlocked within me, my capacity for self-recovery. By allowing my inner creativity to flourish and not be denuded in any way by my depression or depressive thinking, I have managed to hold onto my day to day existence and lose myself without self-rancour in creative reverie. My shed, my dedicated creative space, became a haven of protective solace for me, and in the depths of my anguish, I often found myself aching to lose myself within it. Where before in previous severe depressive episodes, I dreaded the coming day, I now found myself looking forward to unbolting the wooden door and stepping inside what has become a familiar and safe space for me. This is not to say that there were not many times where I lacked creative inspiration or even found pleasure in what I was doing or indeed ruminated on self-critical thoughts. Despite those negative experiences, allowing myself to be creative was akin to a powerful anti-depressant medication. It was slow to take hold, but certainly worked wonders over time.

This leads me onto medication. I’m not certain about this because despite the regime I am on, I found myself in another depression. Needless to say, I kept with what I had been prescribed and benefitted from an extra prescription of Diazepam to help me cope with crippling anxiety.

A new friend of mine and her partner have just completed a paddle board and kayaking expedition respectively around the mainland coastline of Scotland. I was fortunate to meet them early in their adventure and even more lucky to spend a day on the sea with them as they rounded Ardnamurchan. Remaining in touch with her progress and her openness (there it is again - that willingness to share) about her moments of joy as well as her moments of challenge, helped me reconnect with my innate desire for adventure and an understanding of what she was facing. I was reminded of how important my immersion in wild oceanic nature is for me, and how natural physical challenges can lead to many powerful insights and new awareness. The fact that she persisted with her challenge was an inspiration for me to persist with mine.

I think all these I’ve listed above, are the main influencing factors which led to a transformative change in direction in this current bout of depression. There are others which are too personal for even me to share and some which really don’t require writing about.

Finally, I want to acknowledge a residual sadness within me, despite the positive news I’ve been sharing and it is this - I’m sad at having ‘lost’ precious weeks of the wonderful summer we’ve been experiencing. Despite knowing how important nature immersion is for me, my illness overwhelmed my motivation to get out in my kayak or even take the dog for a walk. To be blunt too, I’m not certain I felt safe enough to take myself out to sea on my own. However, there is much of the summer left and I have some wonderful plans in my head with what I can do.

Thank you again for reading my writing and giving me your time. I truly appreciate the consideration shown for me and what I’m choosing to share. As ever too, thank you for the unconditional support I receive daily from so many of you, most of whom I’m yet to meet and sadly, may never enjoy that opportunity.

It is wonderful to emerge into the light again and to once more engage with the world.

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,

Time To Get Serious

May the 28th, 2020! That was my last entry on my blog. It’s definitely time to get serious.

The prompt for my reengagement with writing my blog has come from my recent heightened exposure on Twitter and Facebook along with my contribution to an event marking Odyssey’s 25th Anniversary, which I was invited to speak at.

I think, like many, the arrival of the pandemic early last year and the subsequent lockdowns and restrictions threw my best made plans into the air and in a bizarre sense, allowed me to wallow, shiftless and shapeless, using Covid as an excuse for my lethargy. Certainly my mental health suffered terribly last year and I was hospitalised yet again in the summer. Thankfully, it was a short stay of just over a month on the ward and I left with a determination to work on my recovery from my depression. Sadly though, I never regained the momentum with regard to my fundraising effort for Odyssey and this fell by the wayside.

(Find out more about Odyssey - here.)

That is until now. You see, I’m proud to have been nominated as an Ambassador for Odyssey, a role which hadn’t really sunk in until I gave my presentation at their celebratory event earlier this year. Here I met many people whose lives had been substantially altered through their involvement with Odyssey, either as a course participant or as a volunteer or member of staff. I was struck by the genuine passion for the charity and for the first time in many years, I felt the rekindling of the powerful sense of belonging, a feeling I have not felt for many long years. In fact loneliness is an important contributing factor to my depression. I miss the opportunity to spend time with like minded people, speaking of what’s important for us and sharing joy in shared accomplishments. It struck me that despite the disparate nature of the Odyssey community, it is indeed a community with a strong shared philosophy which continues to inspire all of us.

Odyssey grew from the shared vision of former Outward Bound staff, where the Kurt Hahn’s tenets were lived to the full by all who worked for the organisation. These beliefs in living life to the full through challenge and shared adventure, were easily replicated with incredible effect for the Odyssey courses. Personally, when I worked as an instructor on these courses, I couldn’t help but be inspired by the responses of the course participants to the challenges and adventures we offered them. When someone with a life-limiting illness reframes this into an awareness that their longevity may be limited but living their life is certainly not limited, I find myself inspired.

After my presentation to the Odyssey event, which I feel I gabbled and rushed through, I found myself thinking of the inspiration I draw from others and by consequence, the inspiration I may offer in return. In fact, realising I am inspired by the fortitude of Odyssey participants and the selflessness of my colleagues, I understood what it means when people tell me, I inspire them through my approach to my mental illness and recovery from depression. For the first time, I realised what I have to offer.

Many who know me, will know I’m an avid user of Twitter, the social media platform which has as many detractors as supporters. My experience using this method of connecting with friends and strangers has been predominantly positive. In fact I draw considerable support from the thousands of people who offer me words of encouragement when I am facing mental health challenges. It is a platform where I am surrounded by a lively, positive, generous and deeply warm hearted people. I believe I get to see the best of humanity through my Twitter feed and I’m grateful for this.

Recently, after I have posted some wonderful encounters on my sea kayaking trips, a couple of my films and photos have gone ‘viral’. According to the analytics for my Twitter account, over the last 28 days my tweets have been seen by 3.03million people and I increased my followership by 2092 to reach an incredible 18 903 followers! To be quite honest, I have difficulty in fully grasping the enormity of these statistics but I do appreciate them and I’m thankful for all the interactions I have with my followers.

All of this has led me to this particular point - it’s time to get serious.

So, I have reopened my online fundraising page for Odyssey - here - and once more I dedicate my adventurous lifestyle to raising funds for the charity. The fundraising page is open ended. I am now making films about some of my adventures which I post on You Tube. It is my intention to increasingly use these films as a platform to share my views about living adventurously, facing risks and enjoying life to the full. Additionally, I will be open about my recovery from depression and my continuing relationship with the illness. I hope by being open, honest and sometimes frank about how I’m experiencing my adventures, I offer insights and inspiration for folks to draw on. For a short while, I considered building a community of Patrons who would pay various levels of essentially donations for the privilege of supporting my film making. After, I put out my first proper film I quickly knocked this idea on the head - it did not sit well with me at all. However, I do believe what I share holds value and I hope if folks realise this value for themselves, they will choose to make a donation to Odyssey.

I benefit from this arrangement in a positive way. I am actively supporting the charity which I hold close to my heart and which provides me with an essential sense of belonging. This gives me purpose, something I miss a lot in my life. I am encouraged to continue to seek adventures in my life, knowing by doing so, I will share my insights with others. Importantly, I receive positive recognition for what I do. This is one of the basic psychological drives of the human condition - to be positively recognised. (I could go into much more about this but not now.) I will hold a positive view of myself. I am my own critic, a harsh one at that, and knowing I am using my privileged lifestyle to hopefully support Odyssey will enable me to ease up on myself with regard to the constant belief I should be doing something worthwhile. All in all, I know this feels good for me and it is a source of useful motivation for future endeavours.

Thank you for reading my blog, for following me on Twitter or following my LifeAfloat page on Facebook. Thank you for the support so many of you offer me, your words of encouragement and your kind comments about my films and photos. Thank you for being one of the many who have created the wonderful community I am surrounded with on my Social Media platforms.

World Mental Health Awareness Week - Sunday - Always Hope

Sunday 24th May and the last day of Mental Health Awareness Week. I hope my daily blog posts through this week have been of interest and even better, raised crucial awareness about aspects of living with mental illness and the concept of recovering from it. Throughout my writing this week, I have been aware of a reoccurring theme for me, and this is the one of ‘hope’.

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Hope is a word I use a lot when I describe my recovery. It projects me into the future where I attempt to forecast my well being and mental health. Recovery from my depression is a certainty. After a bout of severe ill health, I will recover from this. What is less certain is the enduring nature of the recovery and the achievement of the ultimate aspiration of a lengthy period of stability. Given the truth I will recover despite the illness persisting, there sadly is always the possibility the depression will triumph in the end. The hope then is, it will be me who will prevail and manage to achieve healthy homeostasis for a months and years.

I am pleased to say I do not leave the achievement of a hopeful outcome to chance. I am active within my recovery and as I grow in strength during post depressive bouts, I bring to bear my increasing levels of self-awareness to actuate helpful changes in my life. This is very much a dynamic process and requires determination on my part, each and every day. Sometimes this can be mentally if not physically exhausting. However, I am certain my eventual recovery will not have occurred purely through good fortune. Neither too am I totally alone on this repetitive journey. Karen is by my side as are my wider family and my cohort of friends and supporters. Karen in particular though, is a keystone in my process and without her steadfast tolerance, understanding and love, I would not have the ability to access to my personal resources when I need them most. She is there to hold me still when I feel at my most vulnerable and wobbly.

Alongside my personal supportive network, I am blessed with an excellent collaborative professional relationship with the Community Mental Health team, in particular my Community Psychiatric Nurse. Without this warm person-centred professional support and intervention, I would not have managed to maintain a realistic level of personal safety when edging towards, or immersed in, moments of depressive crisis. My regular appointments with Mairi and knowing she is there at the end of the phone, enable me to ground myself in reality when I have needed this the most. It is extremely helpful too the language used during these interactions is one of hopeful uncertainty rather than unrealistic certainty.

I am eternally grateful for all the support and love I receive.

I am well along my pathway towards what I believe to be an enduring period of robust good health. All the positive indicators are there for me. I am extremely hopeful at the moment (and I wrote this with a smile on my face). However, I am at the moment proceeding with caution because I am aware of my tendency to grasp at every straw floating my way and state these moments indicate a completion of my recovery process.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog and for interacting with me if you have. I appreciate the interest you show and the comments you make. If you suffer from mental illness then I hope your recovery processes are well under way and you are enjoying a settled equilibrium in your lives.

My very best wishes to you all.

World Mental Health Awareness Week - Saturday - Real Self

I often state, “When I’m in the outdoors, I can be my true self.” It is true I am most comfortable with myself when I’m in my kayak out the sea or wandering the wild hinterlands. This is why I attach so much importance on my connection with the outdoor realm to my mental health recovery process. I believe I gain greater insights into who I am and how I can move beyond my discomfort when I’m outdoors than I ever do in the more normal aspects of my lifestyle. I remember once being challenged by a therapist during group therapy when I stated this. He wanted to know why it was I could be ‘myself’ out doors and not ‘myself’ at home or anywhere else. At the time this intervention stumped me.

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#1

Many folks are familiar with the psychological concept of the ‘true self’ and the ‘false self’ and may have seen this theory explained in a variety of forms. Because I find my relationship with the outdoors to be a simple one, I like the simplicity of this concept. There is no point for me to analyse the process any more complicatedly than need be. It follows, I am happier with myself in the outdoors than I am in more regular settings. Therefore, when outside I am who I truly am. I return to my core individuality, unencumbered with various strategies to cope with a life where I expect myself to be viewed in certain ways. The simplicity of this concept is best described through Diagram #1.

This is my interpretation of the concept. The inner circle denotes ‘My Self’, who I was born as and who my core attributes are. This is the me without the impediments I employ to enable me to exist in the manner I do. From a very early age I began to adapt my personality to meet what I perceived was required of me, or which helped me feel the most comfortable for my existence. This ‘Adapted Self’ is denoted by the outer circle in the diagram. The adaptations of my personality are not the true Nick. For example, I have a tendency to want to please people, not to disappoint them, and to do so even if this means I feel unhappy doing so. The pay off for me doing this will be what I think to be recognition and it is this psychological reward I am seeking through my behaviour. Delving further into this particular example, I may become self-critical of my perceived lack of being ‘good enough’ if I believe I’m unable to please others or I think I let them down. What is happening, I’m searching for this outer circle of my existence to be soothed through my adapted behaviour rather than feed my true self, my core, with genuine responses to my genuine capacity for compassion, kindness and generosity. In fact my outer circle is so powerful, it prevents any genuine recognition for my core capacities from getting through meaning I will forever be self-critical.

When I am outdoors however, my relationship with myself is far less complicated. Out ‘there’ so to speak, I do not feel I have to adapt myself to relate with the natural world. Nature will never judge me and indeed has no expectations of me other than who I am. Within minutes of paddling from the shore, away from the normality of my onshore life, I feel the weight I place on myself dissipating and the many masks I wear drop away. In doing so, crucially, the relationship I have with myself becomes less fraught and noticeably less critical. I continue to mull things over in my mind and of course I replay many memories where I’m unhappy with my conduct. However, in these I am able to rationalise them without laying huge amounts of blame on a personality I dislike and wish would disappear. As Nature does not judge me, neither can it forgive me. This is what I do for myself. I can achieve this balance though with Nature’s guidance, where my immersion in the natural realm feeds the healthy psychological hungers my core self desires.

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#2

In Diagram #2, there are six psychological hungers as determined by Eric Berne, the originator of the Transactional Analysis Psychological Theory of Personality. Again there are variations on a theme with this particular theory and this is the one which makes sense for me. In fact, this particular model is at the forefront of my mind when I’m contemplating the processes at play when I’m outdoors. The key word when describing these psychological hungers is, healthy. It’s possible for these hungers to be addressed through unhealthy responses which will not feed into my true core but only serve the outer circle and sustain the critical view I hold of myself. Sometimes I may not be aware of this differentiation and follow a course of action where I feel I am healthily meeting my core needs but end up harming them.

• Contact. This hunger is determined by Berne to be our human need for physical contact, our healthy desire for touch in whatever form this may be. Hugging, caressing, a kiss, handshake or a simple pat on the shoulder. Through this healthy contact our sense of identity is enhanced. Of course, since much of my time outdoors is enjoyed solo, I do not have others around me to fulfil this for me. However, I have determined Nature is a perfect substitute. Through the physical contact I receive from the wind, the waves, the rain, the sun and sounds and smells, I gain a strong sense of my identity with a realisation I am human and there is an importance for me to receive physical contact.

• Recognition. This refers to our psychological need for healthy acknowledgement from others. Again, although much of my outdoor activity is conducted in solitude, I enjoy being recognised because of this. I recognise myself as a person who is comfortable with my alone-self where solitude is a healthy aspect of who I am. It is helpful for me to have this validated by others who respond with warmth to my accounts of my solitary outdoor experiences. Likewise too, when I do share the outdoor realm with others, I receive recognition for the ease with which I am related with in this environment because of the ease I am with myself.

• Incident. This is the hunger which feeds our healthy need for a frisson of excitement in our lives. This is a strong reason for my propensity to seek adventures in the outdoors. I knowingly seek risk and challenge because through these, I feel alive. I do not set out to place myself in harms way where my life will be at risk but the challenge is such that there is a perception this may be the outcome. It is always the case I assess these risks within the context of my personal ability and skills. At a very basic level, living with incident in my outdoor life enables me to move beyond my comfort zone to where I learn more about myself.

• Stimulus. This is the healthy fulfilment of all our senses being healthily aroused and soothed. It goes without saying being outdoors assails me with myriad stimulations which feed my senses of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. Nature provides all of this without any cost to me apart from my investment of my time and energy.

• Structure. There is a psychological requirement for frameworks within our living which provide a sense of purpose and meaning. Nature provides me with the natural rhythms of life which I easily form into a structure within which I exist. From sunrises to sunsets, the times of tides, the seasons and other more subtle considerations such as weather lore. I choose to frame the structure of my time so it fits with the natural order and by encompassing this, I am able to achieve the personal goals I wish to attain. When I’m on a long kayak journey, the structure of my life is entirely natural, determined by my understanding of Nature and my non-combative relationship with it.

• Sexual. This is the natural healthy fulfilment of our human desire for procreation and pleasure in doing so. We are sexual beings. Nature is awash with procreation, displaying a vibrancy for life which is joyously inspiring. As a human male, I am forever reminded of my own sexuality when I am in the outdoors and my capacity for passion and romance. This psychological drive is not only completed through the act of copulation itself, but through a healthy awareness of my desires, my ability to love, to experience passion and to enjoy sensuality. All of these can be fulfilled by my awareness of the fecundity of the natural world.

My recovery from depression is best served when I healthily address my psychological needs. I know how do to this when I venture into the outdoors. The experiences I enjoy ‘out there’ provide me with innumerable metaphoric anchors with which I’m able to reference when they are needed most. I have a healthy and vibrant relationship with Nature where I’m not judged or where I overly judge myself. The benefits for me in undertaking regular meaningful immersions in the natural world are tangible to say the least. Equally the outcomes from these are helpful within my relationships with others, in particular my wife. By regularly gaining insights into the healthy core of me, I am more at ease with who I am.

As stated in my previous blog entry, this journey is far from complete. What I am certain of is my fundamental relationship with my healthy ‘Self’ when out in Nature. By embracing this and transferring this awareness to my life outwith Nature, I will develop the ability to live more from my core being rather from the perception of the protection of my outer circle, my ‘Adapted Self’.

The story continues to be written.

World Mental Health Awareness Week - Friday - Nurturing My Nature

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My parents tell me as soon as I could walk, I would trot alongside my Dad through the bush down to the sandy dry Mzingwane River when we lived at West Nicholson in Matabeleland, Zimbabwe (then Southern Rhodesia). By the age of five I regularly went out with him on ‘Patrol’ into the wild and uninhabited lowveld bush around Triangle in Zimbabwe where we would sleep under the stars beside languid rivers within which the eyes of Crocodiles would be reflected back by torchlight, wake in the night with Hippo grazing around us, and get up in the dawn to watch the sun rise over the African bush from the high vantage point of a granite domed kopje (a low rocky hill, pronounced koppie). My early life memories are infused with many encounters with the wild, learning to walk silently on the balls of my feet, to sit for hours at a time without flinching, silent, eying the fringes of the bush for movement and the eventual reward of a wildlife sighting. How to follow animal spoor, interpreting their size and their intentions. How to simply ‘be’ in the wild, appreciating the fecundity of nature around me. Our family holidays were always camping trips to isolated parts of the country where we immersed ourselves in the wilderness, absorbing every nuance it had to offer.

Moving to Britain in my early teens, I continued to live a life where the open air and wide spaces were integral to my existence. Not one to follow a more usual teenage pathway, many of my weekends were spent camping on Bredon Hill in Worcestershire where sitting by a campfire was more fun than partying in friends houses. Later I would hitchhike to the Lake District whenever I had the chance to immerse myself in the fells and explore the mountain tops. My academic studies took second place to my passion for my involvement in the Duke of Edinburgh Gold Award and the school Combined Cadet Force. I volunteered as a Cotswold Country Park Warden building stiles and dry stone walls. I learned to fly gliders solo before I could drive and every weekend I would head out into the country to explore, history and nature being my passions.

It was no wonder then, I miserably failed my academic studies and my pathway into adulthood led me further into the world of outdoor activities and adventure. At the age of twenty one I became an instructor for Outward Bound and the rest as they say, is history. My life since then has been incredibly rich where I have been privileged to have shared so many wonderful moments of sheer outdoor joy with friends, colleagues and course participants and clients. I have worked in Wales, the Lake District, Lesotho, South Africa, Zimbabwe and Scotland, all the while facilitating personal development awareness for a huge range of people, young and adult. All these experiences have imbued a richness in my life which to be truthful, I find difficult to quantify. Suffice to say, I am truly grateful for the thousands of opportunities I have faced.

Now at the moment, my life is governed by my recovery from severe depression. As best I am able, I continue to live a life of wild outdoor connection where I take myself sea kayaking along the incredible Scottish coastline and set myself reasonable personal challenges. I love nothing more than spending nights out under canvas, somewhere silent and empty of humans. Key to my recovery process is nurturing my natural draw to nature and a need for personal adventure. Without access to this, I very much doubt I would have sufficient meaning within my life to inspire me to keep up the fight.

Outwith the moments of insight in the depths of my depression, my most powerful personal life lessons have occurred during my adventures. There are innumerable moments when my experiences in the wild have proved to be potent metaphors for my life and ones I continue to draw on time and again. In the moments when I’m in the desperate grip of a depressive episode, it’s these metaphorical insights which help me maintain a semblance of self-identity. For example, when asked who I am and what I do, I say my name and that I’m a sea kayaker. I do not qualify this but within myself I know I am a person who is an adventurer with a deep connection to the wild and natural realms. My adventuring spirit does not pit me against nature, but immerses me within it so I come up against myself. It is within this process I learn the most about who I am and my life. In tomorrow’s blog I will explain this in greater detail.

Nurturing my natural connection to nature is fundamental for my existence. I believe this to be true for millions of people too and there is nothing extraordinary in claiming this truth for myself. However, it’s not until recently I have fully embodied this awareness and to some extent, given myself permission to accept its validity. I think I continued to hold onto the notion of fitting myself into societal norms and certainly undertaking a more cautionary medically influenced approach to my recovery from depression. I am not out of the woods by a long stretch, but my understanding of my recovery and the importance of my nature within this is far clearer. There are hurdles to overcome and these require considerable focus on my part. Essentially, I continue to struggle with the belief I do not hold worth and until I rationalise this, my potential for change and success will continue to be locked within me. Paradoxically, it is through my adventures and my natural experiences where I challenge these notions of worthlessness, and again this is why it’s crucial for me to nurture my nature.

My story continues.

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.

Resurgence

The past month or so has been dreadful for me. My clinical depression has had me firmly in its grip, so much so, I’ve been literally fighting powerful urges to complete my suicide. I think this stark statement may come as a surprise to many who have seen me on-line in my Twitter and Facebook personas, posting lovely photographs and typically Nick type cheery comments. This is the nature of my beast,

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Resurgence

Last year during my ‘Three Peaks by Kayak’ adventure, I found myself inspired by the various experiences I encountered to make meaning of my depression and understand how I can live with it. There was one particular moment when fighting against the tide in the middle of the expansive Luce Bay off the Galloway coastline, when I came to the enduringly powerful realisation that the discomfort I was experiencing at the time was not permanent, and when the tide I was fighting against changed in a few hours, it would soon pass. In that moment, I instantly embodied this awareness because of its powerfully analogous pertinence to my depression recovery process. In this moment of enlightenment, I finally believed what the many caring professionals had been telling me for many years - “This will pass. Given time, you will become stronger and feel better.”

Making the decision to believe the impermanence of my depression did not lead me to believing I would eventually be cured of it. Instead, this allowed to me to accept I will live with depression all my life, and it’s the deep depressive moments which will come and go. Likewise, the thoughts and beliefs I have about taking my life are associated with these deep low periods and I was now able to counter these with a belief that they are impermanent. I now understood the notion of making a permanent decision based on an impermanent feeling.

However, when my clinical depression takes hold of me and I sink into a deep and dark low, my ability to cognitively function is impaired by the wide ranging self-destructive and self-hating thoughts and beliefs I find myself struggling with. I find myself literally fighting for my life, voicing out loud (when alone), reasons why I shouldn’t kill myself. This is an internal battle which rages in my head and through my body. Thoughts and feelings merge to be expressed in my language, how I think, how I feel emotionally and how I feel physically. My energy and personal resources are expended on this battle and too, in masking this fight from the world around me. I do not want the ordinary world to know of my pain. There may be hints, or I may put out a Tweet which may be more explicit, but generally, I continue post lovely photos with asinine words. (At least I think they are at the time). Likewise around and about in my lived world, people will probably not be aware of the self-destructive thoughts I have running through my mind when I meet them in the street or when chatting over a pint or a coffee.

There have been a few moments recently when I have desired hospitalisation because the struggle to overcome my thoughts of suicide have been more than I could cope with. However, there’s always been one reason or another why I didn’t explicitly seek this and I continued to fight on my own. In a way, the now embodied adage “this will pass”, enabled me to remain with my distress in the knowledge that it was likely to diminish over time. I continued to live my life in the public realm as unobtrusively as possible, hoping few people would cotton on to the mask I was wearing. Karen was totally aware of course and lovingly supportive. Likewise, my C.P.N. was happy to see me twice a week for lengthy appointments. I wasn’t totally alone.

I’m often asked what the causes are for a particular bout of depression, something I can pinpoint as the originating source. Generally there is none. The malaise takes root, deepens and insidiously manifests itself to the point where I become overwhelmed by it. I’m aware of its early presence and determine I will not allow it to take hold of me, but despite making efforts to stall the process by undertaking health enhancing activities, the depression is the stronger. My mood sinks and I am engulfed with beliefs of self-hatred, self-loathing, and uselessness. No matter how heartening the reassurances from friends and family about my worth, these messages of genuine warmth and love fail to reach my core. I find it easy to counter them with the all to predictable response - “Yes, but…”. This in turn serves to make me feel even more unhappy, because then I add the belief I’m an unnecessary burden to those who love me.

Having met with a psychiatrist, I am on a new medication regimen which he is confidently hopeful will help me raise my mood and begin to feel the joy in life again. To be truthful, I detest taking anti-depressant medication because I have found the side-effects to lead me to feeling more unhappy than the opportunity for a cure. Feeling sluggish, doped, constipated, lost libido and other minor conditions, all serve to reinforce the futility I feel about my life. For the last eighteen months I have been medication free, determined to live with my depression in an organic, self-sufficient manner. To all intents and purposes I think I managed to do this successfully until the point this year, just after Christmas and my mood slipped past my ability to self manage myself. Even then, it took some insistence on the health professionals’ part to encourage me to consider taking medication again. It’s early days still.

Despite this desperate bout of depression, I have looked forward to the future, and found within myself a desire to plan for another kayaking adventure. Not only this, I have chosen to invite a new friend to share the adventure with me thus breaking with my usual process of kayaking solo. In getting to know Jack on-line and then meeting him recently, I have discovered a friend who shares my understanding of the world and a passion for exploration by kayak on the sea. Our common ground is our connection to the R.N.L.I. and it is the charity which forms the basis of this expedition. You can read more about this here.. Sharing a kayaking expedition is going to be a renewing experience for me because it’s many years since I last headed off into the wide yonder with someone beside me. I’m really looking forward to Jack’s companionship.

Today the sun is shining and the sea is calm. It is the last day of March and early this evening we move out to our summer mooring in the bay. I’ve readied the engine, checked the electrics and filled the water tank to the brim. Propane gas bottles for cooking and heating are charged, and the inflatable dinghy we use as our tender has been spruced up with a wash and a new seat. There is something in this transhumance experience of mine, moving from our winter berth to our summer one, which excites me and reminds me of the resurgence of life. Around and about there are the signs of spring. The cormorants are gathering materials for their nests on the nearby cliffs, the trees are beginning to show signs of green and the sea is becoming translucent again. I feel my blood moving within me, a sure sign that life is returning and soon the shackles of this depression will be shaken off. With the help of my medication, I’m hopeful in a few weeks I’ll be noticing the colour of the world around me again.

Talking Suicide

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September 10th 2018 was World Suicide Prevention Day. To mark the day from a personal point of view, I put up a post on my Facebook page and Tweeted too. A few weeks ago I was filmed by the RNLI Film and Image Unit for a short film they are making about my voluntary role with Tobermory RNLI Lifeboat and my accompanying mental health struggles. I recently had a long and helpful appointment with ‘my’ Community Psychiatric Nurse after a long period of not seeing her. This blog entry is a description of how I live with my suicidal thoughts. I hope by sharing this incredibly intimate aspect of my self, I will help increase awareness and understanding about deep depression and suicide. This is an account of my personal experience and cannot be read as a generalisation of suicide per se. I am confident though, that there are contextual similarities with others who struggle like me which will be helpful.

Recently, despite the many good aspects of my life and my uniquely privileged lifestyle, I have been fighting familiar intrusive thoughts that my life is worthless, that I am worthless and it follows that the most natural conclusion is to take my life. These are not constant thoughts which continue to eat away at me through the day and night. They intrude at the most inopportune moments, sometimes fleetingly but generally with enough force to stick for a good while. They are private thoughts, triggered by any number of interpersonal interactions, thoughts, memories and moments. An incredibly astute observer might see for a split second, a grimace of pain cross my face when these thoughts of death reach into me. They would also hear me emit a muted cry of pain or a deep, lingering sigh.

Since I’m so used to this happening, I find myself burying these thoughts and feelings, fighting them inwards and hiding them deep within me. I used to be a psychotherapist so ‘internal dialogue’ fits comfortably as a term which describes what’s occurring. The thing is, there is no voice attached to these thoughts. I do not hear myself or anyone else, actual or imagined. They are thoughts accompanied by powerful emotional and physical feelings. Essentially they are beliefs - basically an overarching belief that my life should come to an end because of my ineptitude as a person.

Whether these thoughts are serious enough for me to become worried about my intentions and I consequently reach out for help, depend on how I grade them. Because I recognise them so clearly now, I give them levels of seriousness depending on how they arrive in my psyche, into my being and how durably they ‘stick’. First off I have the fanciful thoughts. The ones which are romantic notions of taking my life. This could be anything from the day being a lovely and sunny one, when I might think, “this would be a nice day to die”. Or, “I could head out in my kayak, capsize and drift off towards the far horizon”. The latter might be a response to recalling a moment of embarrassment when I believe I behaved badly to someone in my past. This kind of fanciful thinking serves to assuage my painful thinking in the moment by being a distraction, where I fantasize about a semi-honourable death, drifting off towards slow oblivion in a suitably restless sea.

A level up from the fanciful ideations are the ‘thought punches’ into my head and the ‘body blows’ into my being. These are powerful enough to stick and set in train semi-serious thoughts of suicide. Unchecked they might build into more enduring beliefs that the most obvious solution is to take myself off to my chosen tree and hang myself. If they occur in the dark hours of the deep night when I ping wide awake, as I often do, I might consider slipping out onto the deck of our yacht and lowering myself into the night-time sea to eventually die of hypothermia. I would be clad only in my underpants because I never want to be found naked. These thoughts and feelings of powerful desperation are promulgated by the more entrenched self-beliefs I hold about myself. Examples of these being; believing I’m a feckless father, a life failure in employment and business, a wasteful daydreamer, an untrustworthy person, a poor friend, I have nothing of worth to offer, I am a burden, and so the seemingly inexhaustive list continues. These thoughts and feelings may present themselves at any time, whether life is going well or I’m struggling with a dose of depression. Generally of course, they are stronger and more present when my mood is low. I have learned to rationalise these thoughts, to attempt to see them for what they are and realise that it’s certainly not logical to act on them. If I think I’m struggling with this process I might express to Karen (my wife), that I’m having a tough time and “I’m feeling suicidal”. This one simple sentence, spoken out loud and knowing I have been heard, is usually enough to dissipate the strength of the feelings and/or the thoughts I’m experiencing.

However, there are times when these body blow suicidal thoughts stick like a ball of mud thrown against a brick wall. With sun, the mud might set rock hard and become insoluble. (It reminds me of when I was a boy in Africa, my friends and I used to have battles with clay lakkies - hand squeezed balls of mud on the tips of whippy sticks, which when flicked like a tennis serve, sent the mud screaming through the air. Brutally powerful and accurate. Great fun as well to plaster house walls with nasty splats of mud!) What happens is, I find myself unable to now rationalise my thinking with any certainty. The thoughts metamorphose into beliefs and these then set deep within me. The primary belief being that the time has come to end my life and there is no point in lingering any longer. It could be that I might be berating myself for being a horribly curmudgeonly husband or as with 2017, a useless sea kayak guide. The belief that I am eternally useless, worthless and a burden to others, takes root and instead of distracting myself from this belief, I find myself arguing, “why not kill myself?”

This is a dangerous time for me. This is when the thought of death has become realistically pragmatic. It has shifted from being an attractive desire, to one where it is now the most reasonable solution. When I am at this depth, I begin to make my plans. I have already chosen my tree. It is local, within ten minutes walk and hidden from public view. I know the type of rope I will use and its length. Being an outdoor instructor, I know the specific knots I will tie. The only unknown is whether to leap off the branch in the hope I break my neck, or lower myself off and hang until strangulation has done its work. More recently I have been considering immersion in the sea and dying of hypothermia but here, I find myself pulling up short, because I don’t want my Tobermory RNLI colleagues to be the ones who find me. In terms of being found, I have in the past prepared letters for the local police and coastguard with GPS coordinates of my suicide location. I have also written letters to individual family members.

When this is occurring for me, I am now in the grip of deep depression with a very strong desire for suicide.

Even in this state, with every fibre of my being now craving my obliteration, I find within myself a desire to hang on to life and I make my thoughts and intentions known, not only to my wife but my community mental health support network too. This may be the psychiatrist, the community psychiatric nurse or the local GP. I will do so knowing that I may be admitted to hospital and in some respects, this is what I desire for hospital is a safe haven for me. What I fear most, is that the final decision to take my life will be made beyond my conscious awareness. I know within myself from my adventure activities, that before a risky undertaking I have a propensity to weigh up all the factors, and once done, if they are in my favour, to suddenly act without a conscious decision to do so. It’s almost as if my body moves into action before a cognitive process has taken place. I believe that if (when) I take my life, this is how it will be. I will be in the firm grip of a belief that death is the only course of action to take, I will have negated the consequences and I will act on this - suddenly. I use the word courage to describe the motivating emotion which will literally see me release myself from the tree branch I will hang from..

Equally, it is courage which drives me to struggle against the forces raging within me. The belief that I must die is real - in that it appears very real. Any amount of dissuasion by concerned others does not seem to work. I hear their words but do not take them in. In a vain act of self-aggrandisement, I argue the reasons why I believe I have the right to choose my own path and it’s far better for me to end the pain I am struggling with - for pain it is! It’s a palpable emotional, cognitive and physical pain, gripping my thinking and emotions along with a agonised chest. My mind is a continuous maelstrom of self-destructive thinking and the dreadful reasons why this should be the case.

In these moments despite my firm belief that I must die, I do find myself making agreements to keep safe and to make contact with the health professionals if I’m feeling close to acting. In this regard, I’m thankful that I’m a person of some honour because I feel duty bound to keep my word. When I’m considering taking myself off to my death, I find myself agonising with the fact that I would be breaking my word if I went through with the act. However, even then, I have moments when the desire for death is more powerful than my reasoning and this is when I will choose to be admitted to a psychiatric ward. Here, cocooned in the warmth of the ward, I believe myself to be safe.

Recovery happens. Inevitably it takes root within the process of my struggles and inexorably I begin my long climb back to normal reality. Slowly and surely the light and colour returns to my world and to my thinking. Through dialogue and peaceful ‘time out’, I readily grasp onto nuggets of hope and my beliefs of the inevitability of my death are replaced with aspirations and plans for the future. Needless to say this process of recovery is not linear and there will be times when it seems as if I slip backwards. These moments or relegation become sparser as time goes by until at long last, I’m feeling like my happier adventurous self again.

Recovery does not mean an absence of my depression. This will always be there in my life and very recently, I have come to accept that it is an illness I will have to live with, rather than constantly seek a cure. Not having acted on my suicidal desires and thoughts does not mean that I do not have them or that they are not serious. These are not prosaic cries of help which I have often heard suicide referred to in the past. They are real for me and it is only through fighting hard for myself, that I manage to keep myself from acting on my desires.

Being open about my mental health struggles is becoming increasingly helpful for me. Each time I share my struggle (as I am doing here), I gain confidence in sharing more often because of the warmth and the love I receive when I do. My online community of friends and acquaintances are instrumental in this process. Twitter for me is a power for good! I hope that by being open I may normalising the dialogue around the subject of suicide. This is my hope, that increasingly, our society will become less offended or frightened by the subject and becomes willing to really listen to those who need to talk about their suicidal thinking. It is my experience that it is not helpful when I express my suicidal desires some people either change the subject away from the issue, or attempt to make it better by telling me of all the reasons I have to live. I term the latter a sticking plaster approach. Both responses are undoubtedly well meaning and I am grateful for any time I am given by those who have a desire to see my internal pain healthily diminished.

To bring this blog entry to conclusion, I want to say, at the moment of writing this I am safe. I am currently experiencing suicidal thoughts and feelings but I have these in check. There is enough firm reality in my life for me to focus on and I have exciting plans to fulfil. Additionally, there are the powerful metaphoric insights I gained from my 3 Peaks by Kayak journey earlier this year to remind me that suicide is a permanent solution to an impermanent situation. The simplest and most enduring of the metaphoric insights being “live life” when I saw a tragically injured Gannet on the island of Ailsa Craig and “this discomfort will pass” when I was struggling across the eighteen long miles of Luce Bay against a strong ebb tide.

Finally, thank you for reading what I have shared and I welcome any responses you may have. If you have been touched by what I have written and my words resonate and have a personal impact on you, please don’t dwell and find someone you are able to chat to about what you are experiencing. Please take good care of yourself.

Thank you.

The Three Peaks by Kayak

I'm useless at keeping an up to date blog. My best intentions to write regularly and share my thoughts with the wider world come to nought through a mixture of reasons, ranging from low self-confidence to good old fashioned procrastination. I should realise that setting myself the goal of writing regular contributions would not really work for me. I was a poor academic student who was always late with my assignments and essays, leaving writing them to the very last minute or worse, not at all. I became more adept at providing excuses than I did at writing!

This said though, I do enjoy writing and I think that when I do produce a piece, it reads pretty well and I'm pleased with it. I'm not sure why I find it difficult to fulfil my aspirations to write more and I hope that when I do come to understand my blocks, there'll be no stopping me! 

This blog entry is by way of support for my Three Peaks by Kayak challenge which I'm undertaking this May (2018). I'm raising funds for Odyssey, a small charity who provide outdoor courses for people who have been or are being treated for cancer. I have worked for them on a number of occasions and I believe their courses to be incredibly worthwhile. It is wonderful to be writing this entry and to not be covering the theme of my depression and mental health travails. Actually, when I come to think of it, one of the reasons I haven't contributed recently, is because I was tired of only thinking of writing about my low mood, my struggles with this and the more painful truth of fighting my desire to complete suicide. I simply did not want to keep rehashing my negative thoughts and feelings and sharing these with you. It's really lovely at long last to have hope and happiness surging through my veins again. 

My last blog entry was about my New Year plans and I'm pleased to say that I'm at least on my way to undertaking a significant one of these. The Three Peaks by Kayak has been on my list of adventures for nearly twenty five years, really, ever since I began sea kayaking. I had an attempt at completing this in 2009 but was unsuccessful due to poor weather. 2018 will be the year that I put this adventure goal to bed and once I have, I'll feel more able to attempt other plans which have been mulling around in my mind. 

One question I ask myself and I have been asked this by a few other folks too, is - does undertaking these big adventures have a negative impact on the state of my mental health? Without opening up about what I struggle with when I'm in the midst of my depression, I do know that I long to be connected with wildness through some kind of outdoor adventure. Connection to wildness provides me with solace even in the darkest depths of my depression. One aspect of my adventuring lifestyle which I have come to appreciate, is how to reintegrate myself to my life at home and a more 'regular' lifestyle after long and challenging but incredibly rewarding kayaking adventure. Of course having worked as an Outward Bound Instructor and a Therapeutic Wilderness Guide for many years, I ought to understand the important process of transferring ones self from a powerful life altering outdoor experience to the normality of everyday life. I now understand how challenging this can be! The suddenness of the end of a journey can have an incredible impact and for me, and I've struggled to adapt after living a life of wild freedom and solitude. 

Given that I'm now paying attention to this, I'm excited to be undertaking the Three Peaks by Kayak and considering future adventures. It's a continually evolving process of self-awareness which doesn't end because I'm over fifty years old. In fact, I think that I'm learning more about myself now than I ever did in my earlier years. It's as if my life has been leading me to this - the path of the solo adventurer. Despite the risk of future depressive episodes, I have permission to challenge myself so that I continue to grow. 

This kayaking journey then, is as much a personal odyssey as it is a fund raising venture for Odyssey. I look forward to sharing the emerging insights I encounter on the way, as well as the everyday awe and wonder I will enjoy as I traverse the British coastline. 

Thank you for your interest and support. 

This Thing Called Depression

Yesterday I had my monthly appointment with the Psychiatrist who is responsible for my care. I like him and more importantly, I trust him. He is personable with an easy yet professional manner. He is a yacht owner too so we share yachting stories and he likes to tell me of his recent trips.  Amongst these short conversations we also speak of my clinical depression, how I'm doing with this, and checking how safe I am with myself. He is thorough in his assessment of my current situation and willingly offers suggestions for new approaches. This certainly was the case yesterday.

At the moment I'm locked in to a severe bout of depression which is not shifting in anyway shape or form. The medication I have been taking is simply not making a dent on my low mood or even imprinting any form of colour into my life. The upshot is a diagnosis that I'm struggling with 'treatment resistant' depression and if this cannot be overcome with medication alone, then other treatment courses will have to be attempted. 

My Psychiatrist has prescribed one last medication which he hopes will provide me with increased energy and thus motivation to turn my current lethargy around. However, there are risks attached to this medication (see my previous blog post) and it may not suit me. Hopefully this will not be the case and it will work the magic he thinks is possible. It's not a medication for depression per se but there is evidence that it works for people like me, who have been fighting a deeply stuck low mood. 

If this new medication does not work then I will be admitted to hospital for further assessment and possibly a referral to a specialist NHS unit for people with severe and enduring clinical depression. Apparently there are non-medication approaches which can be explored, some of these almost experimental. Thankfully it seems that I'll not be put through ECT again because this clearly did not work for me.

Bringing my session with him to a close yesterday, my Psychiatrist implored me not to give up hope, assuring me that we were nowhere near the end of the road and I was not going to be given up on. One of the struggles I'm dealing with at the moment is a strong sense of hopelessness, sometimes to the point where I believe there is no reason to continue fighting for my recovery. Associated with this, is the gnawing belief that I'm nothing but a burden to my family. I'm not sure if I was entirely mollified by his assurances that I will recover but I did leave the Health Centre with a little more hope than I had before.

I have started to take the new medication which is an adjunct to my current pill regimen. Time will tell if this will work or not. Sadly I will not be able to celebrate their success or deal with their failure with my Psychiatrist because he is moving on to new pastures. I will miss him for his professional and affable care, and the ease with which I'm able to communicate with him. 

Here's to HOPE.