But actually since then things have started to take a turn for the better. I used to say (to anyone who would listen) that I was proud of the fact that I knew myself inside and out. No secrets in my life due to years and years of counselling, therapy and self-introspection. Except turns out I was wrong. Despite having had depression on and off all my life, thinking that I understood what it meant for me and priding myself on still working and not really letting it get in the way of my life. The last two years that hasn’t been the case. I began to struggle at work. I began to struggle to see people. And finally in February of this year I totally stopped being able to function. My GP told me I wasn’t safe to work and turns out I wasn’t really safe for much, not even keeping my self safe. I’ve not been back to work since. But I’ve used this time wisely. Finding myself a therapist I trust completely and who gets me (don’t underestimate this!) - being failed by NHS Mental Health services, drugged up to the eye-balls and in the end paying for the diagnosis and treatment I need myself and being helped by work. I’m one of the lucky ones. Several people aren’t so lucky. If I wasn’t one of the lucky ones I think I wouldn’t be writing this blog. I think I would be dead. As believe me I came close even with all of this.
What I’ve learned is that actually I had hidden demons that have been so influencing my life that I had no idea. Trauma comes in many forms and it’s impact and effects can be hard to recognise, but piecing the puzzle together is all part of recovery. Simple steps turn out to have great power. It’s a slow process, but only once I’ve been through this will I be able to then start working on the depression. As the latter relies on a degree of self-compassion I’m incapable of believing or accepting currently.
I will never be the same person again. Which is a good thing. I need to learn to be comfortable in my own skin. Eating disorder and all. I need to start being able to see that emotions and feelings are not dirty words (which is why the safety of talking about it in a blog post is all part of my recovery). I need to accept that everything is not, actually, my fault. And I’ve started to understand that for me, running is actually a part of the problem. This for some will be heresy, but actually I want to name it. Say it loud and clear. Many many people post about the positive benefits of running, for them that’s amazing and wonderful. That running helps them keep their mental health balanced and well. I thought the same. Until I realised it didn’t.
Running started for me as a hobby, something fun, that I looked forward to and did with friends, helping me to feel really good. It continued this way until a couple of years ago. When suddenly as my other coping mechanisms began to fail. So too did running. In fact it made things worse. The pressure I felt. The fear of failure. The mental exhaustion from taking part in ultras, that didn’t make me feel better. They just made me feel worse and like a failure. Even the social side became unbearable as I pretended that all was okay and kept going out with others, all the while eating myself up inside and then comfort eating for real afterwards. Medication helped contribute to an ever growing weight as did this comfort eating and an inability to say no to food. The spiral downwards was quicker and faster than I imagined and running felt at the heart of lots of it.
We hear all the time “It’s okay not to be okay” or “the power of positive thinking”, “No excuses”, kick out the negativity in your life...I hate all these expressions. For some of us, none of these things are true. For me this isn’t about mental health. We ALL have mental health. It’s inescapable, what most of us do is manage to keep this well. We may have dips or drops but actually 4 out of 5 are okay with their mental health. The rest of us, well we aren’t. And actually that makes us ill. Mental illness is NOT a dirty word. We all get ill. Colds. Upset stomachs. Flu. Broken legs. These things are not okay. We take tablets or see a Dr to help us and they take time to heal. Mental illness is no different. I don’t want it to be okay not be okay. I want it to be okay to say “help me!” I want it to be okay to say “I’m struggling” and actually i want this hideous, dark swirling mess of pain to go away. Even for a few hours. I want to feel okay!
And no power of positive thinking will help that. At least not for me. Treatment. Exploring why some of these feelings are here, that will help me. Drugs - not so much. And believe me I’ve got plenty of excuses and even more reasons why I’m not well. At times hearing the world say they only want positive people in their lives helps drive you to believe there is no place for you in this world. So you’re better off out of it.
It felt so hard to say that running was a part of the problem. Until London. How I got round that marathon I will never know. Driven by something I guess that I can’t explain and don’t understand. But it was hell at times. When you’ve been feeling like you just want to die, 26.2 miles isn’t the best thing to try. After I told close friends and my counsellor that I wasn’t doing the wall anymore every single one of them said “thank god”. No one wanted to be the person who stopped me doing it. But as my counsellor said “you’d have run out all your mental reserves and then what...” the pressure came off and I the fact I didn’t feel like going for a run didn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, I still think I’ll run. I’ve still got a few races this year and I believe I want to do them. Running is actually good for me. But stepping away has made such a difference. I’m strava free. No desire to check on everyone else’s runs and although my Garmin does still auto-upload to my account I have no notifications so only look if I want to look. I’m starting to believe that those achievements like Race to the Tower were achievements. And I’m convinced that Jeffing will help me keep the ability to run races and parkruns even if I can’t win my battle with my weight.
Whether I ever go back to running in a group or with friends, that I’m not sure. Other than perhaps a parkrun now and then and the races I’ve managed hardly any of my runs this year have been group runs. Those that were all happened in the ‘let’s pretend’ phase of the year. Hard to believe that I don’t take selfies either. And I don’t know if I will. I have changed. I can’t go back to who I was before. And I don’t want to. Battle scars make us, apparently. They don’t define us and our lives can change like the weather. “Always in motion is the future”, which means I can’t say anything for sure. But it’s no bad thing that things will never be the same again....
Thanks as always to the AMAZING @sow_ay for his illustrations - see more at https://sow-ay.tumblr.com/
