“I’m fine, thanks”

Being English and quite reserved  this is generally the answer that I give when people ask me how I am. I’m sure it’s the same for a lot of people. People ask out of politeness, it’s almost a social requirement and “I’m fine” is the expected response.

Often this is ok, it’s not fair to expect them to deal with difficult information or respond to being told that you’ve just finished a relationship or are stressed at work, or struggling financially or are just having a bad day. However when you always give that answer, whoever asks and however you’re feeling,  it is perhaps not so healthy.

When I was young I was in and out of hospital a lot. I had two major operations before I was five (without one of which I wouldn’t have lived). I had lots of hospital appointments up until I was a teenager. I recognised that this  took a lot of my parents time and attention, and thought this was unfair on my older brother and sister. So with a weird distorted logic I stopped talking about things that were worrying me. I learnt to cope with stuff, to deal with difficulties, big and small – either by bottling them up or by tackling them by myself (however inadequately).

I tried to cope on my own. I did pretty well for quite a few years. Sure there were bits of my life where I was less successful than others but I was quietly confident of my abilities, and generally happy. A few weeks ago I stopped feeling like I could cope.

Ironically I’d had a good day. I’d been at been at work, and been productive, I’d had a nice text message from an old friend (something small but still nice) I’d spent the evening with friends. Then I came home, made a cup of tea .I suddenly felt totally overwhelmed. I felt like I was falling apart. I sat on the floor and cried. It was the first time I’d cried properly for years.

I realised I needed help. I went to my doctor. I walked into the surgery and he gave me a cheery “now, what can I do for you?” and it all came flooding out... he soon didn’t sound so cheery. He asked me some questions and got me to fill in a questionnaire. He  diagnosed me with depression.  I’ve been on anti-depressants for six weeks. I don’t like it, medicating myself to be able to cope with life but I was desperate.

I’m still hesitant about admitting this because I feel there’s a social stigma around mental illness.

Perhaps this stigma comes because  it is something that can’t be fixed by antibiotics or a few days in bed or an operation. Being depressed affects all aspects of my life. I have found myself questioning my ability to do my job, wondering if people like me or if they’re just being polite, feeling pathetic. I’ve had trouble sleeping and lost my appetite. I’ve got angry and wanted to break stuff. I’ve had panic attacks. I’ve cried more in that six weeks than I probably have in the last six years.

The worst part is not being sure what’s wrong. I still don’t know. I’m lucky that I am not as depressed as some people. I have days when I feel like I’m falling apart I have days when  able to function ok.

 Why am I depressed? I don’t know. Logically I shouldn’t be. I have a job I love (ok it’s demanding but still), good friends, I’m financially ok. But logic doesn’t come into it.

Why is it happening now? I don’t know. I’ve not had any major changes in my life in the last couple of months.

When will I be better? Again I don’t know. That’s the scariest part of it.

But I’m determined that I will be. The pills are helping a bit, exercise is helping a bit, having people being nice to me is helping a lot, talking to people is helping. Telling people that, actually, I’m not fine is helping.

Today I had to fill in a health questionnaire and I was confronted with a tick box that said “do you have any mental health conditions”. I ticked it. It was ticking that box that caused me to write this. I hadn’t intended my first proper blog to be about me, or to be so self-indulgent so I’ll add something about other people. If you’re not fine, tell someone. Be honest. You don’t need to go and cry on the shoulder of the woman in the post office who asks you if you’ve had a good day when actually it’s been shit. Find someone you trust and tell them. It may very well help. If you feel you can’t cope, talk to someone, realise that w e aren’t able to cope with life entirely by ourselves. Do it now rather than leaving to a point where you find yourself sat on the floor crying and not knowing why.