I’ve watched documentaries on the BBC made by Nadiya Hussain (Great British Bake Off winner) about her anxiety and former adviser to Tony Blair, Alastair Campbell about the impact of his depression. It is so powerful to hear people in the public eye who are successful, talk about their mental health.
Even this afternoon, as I’m writing this, Celtic FC and Scotland player Leigh Griffiths who has taken time away from his successful professional football career to recover his mental health has returned to first team action with Celtic against Livingston. There was no big deal, he needed time to recover and was given it. In a similar way as he would have been had he sustained an injury on the field of play.
I’m not saying that mental health and physical health should literally be treated in the same way, but that by recognising that as with a physical injury which can need time and the right treatment to recover to full physical health, so does mental health. I am asthmatic and take my medication as prescribed by my GP in the same way as I take the medication that I have been prescribed for anxiety and depression. I don’t see them as being different in the sense that the medication helps me.
I know that while I will have to take my asthma medication daily for the rest of my life, I do not plan on taking the medication for anxiety and depression forever. What I haven’t been quite so open about away from this blog and my Twitter and Instagram accounts is my mental health. While I am very open about my asthma, I’m not as open about my mental health. I’m trying to figure out why that is?
In 2011, I had two car accidents in a very short space of time. I was very lucky in that neither were very serious, I walked away with whiplash and bruising. I was prescribed pain medication and had physiotherapy. My car was repaired and I got back behind the wheel. I didn’t feel like me and my GP diagnosed me with PTSD and prescribed Amitriptyline. I took it for a short time and life went back to normal.
Fast forward to 2018, I was prescribed an anti-depressant and has the dosage increased just before Christmas. I spent Christmas with my family, I knew that I wasn’t quite right in myself. My anxiety levels were through the roof. I explained it away as just being tired after a hectic few weeks at work. Truth is I was struggling big time. Work was not going well, my manager was constantly on my case and I felt like a failure. I was too embarrassed to talk to anyone about it.
I’m incredibly lucky that I still have both my parents and they have always been my go to people if I had a problem. In my depressed and anxious head, I didn’t want to tell them that I was a failure. Typing those words now, I am shaking my head in disbelief at how disordered my thinking was. My parents have never put any pressure on me but have always encouraged me to do my best. There is no way that they would think I was a failure.
There is something about that feeling of embarrassment about having depression and anxiety that has lingered and, I’m ashamed to admit it, has stuck. I’ve been open about having had PTSD, talking about it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I think it is because it is in the past tense. I have recovered from it. I’m still recovering from my anxiety and depression. I have started to be more open about it, I’ve talked to my good friends, my family and of course my boyfriend. I’ve a way to go before I’ll feel totally comfortable talking about it openly but I’ve made a start. I intend to keep going…now I’ve started and am rekindling my past confidence, there’ll hopefully be no stopping me!
