Steve’s story
I developed mental health issues in the mid '90s. I'm not sure why or how, but I can remember some of the things that were happening at the time.
I was passed over for the director's job where I worked and then felt I had to carry the person appointed, cover his multitude of absences and generally put up with snide comments from his peers and others whilst trying to remain professional. Then I began working on some more specialist pieces of work which took me away from my team and made me work largely by myself. I wasn't conscious of being on my own, but I guess I must have been.
Over the next year or so, I lost interest in just about everything. I hardly slept and didn't bother what or when I ate. I made every possible excuse to avoid going out and as the weight dropped off me, it almost became a challenge to weigh less than I had done the time before. I had no idea I was depressed - that was for other people. My family were very worried about me, but I just could not talk to them about it. At work, people would turn and go the other way or keep their head down rather than exchange words or glances with me. How I needed someone to spend a few minutes.
Then one day, after seeing something on TV, my son asked me if I had ever thought about killing myself. Without hesitation I said On a good day, when I don't feel too bad, it is about ten times a day. Other days it may be several times an hour . There was a lot of crying in the house after that, and it may me realise how low I was and that I needed help.
When I visited my GP he said he thought I must have lost four stone since he had last seen me - it was actually five. He arranged for me to see a psychiatrist that afternoon and I began regular sessions with him. He prescribed medication as well as counselling and after a few tries, and mixing one pill with another, I started to feel more like living again. I changed jobs where no one knew what had happened and things were more normal and I started to feel valued again after a while.
I hoped that such episodes were behind me. However in 2004 my son was killed abroad. The inquest was over a year later and we never learnt what actually happened to him, though plenty of empty promises and untruths were made. We seemed to get through that, though we neither sought nor received any professional help. Within two years my wife had cancer and after a lot of treatment she was given the all clear, only for the cancer to return two years later. Again, she had the all clear. We moved to Norfolk and I changed jobs to have a slower pace of life and so I could reduce my working hours. My mum and uncle then both died from cancer within a short time all of which seemed to take the stuffing out of us.
In 2010, my wife developed cancer for the third time, only this time it was widespread. I gave up work to care for her full time before she passed away at Christmas. This was a lonely time. Those friends that had stayed with me disappeared. You need to get yourself a job . Why don't you get something for a hobby? - as if going out one afternoon a week and returning to an empty home made it all go away. One of my best ever friends said she could not see me again until I was well. Guess what? I lost all interest in doing anything, hardly slept, didn't bother to eat
This time I spoke to my GP fairly early on, but even with his intervention - and he was very caring - things just got worse. He referred me to Wellbeing and after an initial assessment I met a counsellor and was put with a group. After the course finished, during a follow up call from my counsellor I revealed I had collected 320 paracetamol tablets.
This counsellor kept 'watch' over me whilst arranging for me to see a therapist on a one-to-one. It was a bit stop/go at first owing to staff changes before I had one specific person that worked with me for months. She helped me to set goals - my initial ones were to be cured or dead, but over the months my expectations became a little more realistic. These sessions were interspersed with visits to my GP to vary (mainly increase) my medication until I was on the maximum dose of two anti-depressants.
Over time these two interventions gave me the confidence to look to do something more constructive with my time and I started volunteering. This expanded so much that I would hardly find time to work now even if I needed to.
As well as the counselling from Wellbeing, I undertook the Mental Health First Aid course and also began attending the User Forum which people are encouraged to join at the end of treatment. I found this to be a real support. Other attendees either have or are undergoing the same issues as you so there is a lot of empathy and sharing. People accept your mood may be up or down, but you can always be yourself. This forum is now helping to shape the services that new users to Wellbeing will receive, so there are real benefits in getting involved.
I still take a small amount of medication but this is around a quarter of the dose I was on 18 months ago and reduces every three months or so. With my colleagues, we are trying to promote the Wellbeing Service to encourage others to take it up and not leave it too late or be too 'macho' - as perhaps we had been.
I believe I have now come out the other side and do not have two heads.