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The illogical logic of depression: ‘It’s been a wonderful year… But I felt awful’

October 12, 2015 by Inside MAN 2 Comments

Once a week, I visit my local hospital in north London, take a long stroll through perfect corridors, climb a few stairs and sit in a room to talk to a woman I don’t know. It’s not something I look forward to. Being a native of this island gives me that peculiar sense of shyness when confronted with strangers, so it’s taken a while for me to get used to this arrangement. I should say at this point that she’s lovely. She’s wise, intelligent and polite, but she has an unerring knack of guiding me into conversations that I don’t want to have. She is, of course, my therapist.

In January I was diagnosed with high functioning endogenous depression following a pretty bleak December. Despite writing on the subject for male health publications and charities such as insideMAN and CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) I always felt that my role when discussing depression was one of conductor rather than participant. I was keen to demonstrate how commonplace the illness is and how it should not be a stigma. Depression doesn’t mean weakness and once the world gets used to that fact it might help reduce the appalling number of suicides which destroy families daily. Anyway, I was asked to write about it and did so without realising that I too suffer from ‘the black dog’ as Churchill called it. True, I’ve had a few suspicions about my character and ‘way of looking at the world’, but simply put it down to my naturally grumpy cynicism. In January I was put straight about that in no uncertain terms.

It began a month earlier. I was talking to a close friend and explained that this current dark mood was proving difficult to shift and that I just felt awful about nothing in particular. She grew concerned (which made me feel worse) and asked me to visit my GP and tell them what I’d been telling her. I couldn’t really be bothered. It was a simple black phase and one I’d emerge from soon enough as I’d done time to time again, but she’s too smart for this and did something very clever. She told me to go. So I went. I do tend to do what others want as I can’t bear the idea of disappointing people. My therapist calls it ‘people pleasing’ and I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to it.

‘I was a fraud, a coward, a cheat’

Anyway, I went along and spoke into my armpit for twenty minutes or so about ‘feeling quite down’ etc. but pointed out that this had been commonplace over the past decade and that I’d soon pull myself together. One thing, however, I was very keen to stress was that ‘this’ wasn’t depression. No chance. I knew the difference. I have friends who struggle with it and have an uncle who has suffered awfully from it since the year of my birth and I was nowhere near that category.

Of course, she said, there are many strains of depression and that just because I didn’t exhibit manic episodes it didn’t mean that I too wasn’t a victim to it. I agreed and waited to be released into the winter streets with a pep talk of some kind or other, but she pressed me further and asked me if there’d been one thing that triggered this current spell of melancholia. Well, yes, there was and I’m afraid it comes with a degree of ‘wow, look at me!’

I told her that in the last year I had left a job and career I actively despised, got a job I never thought I would get and makes me very happy indeed, began writing about football for national newspapers, released my first novel to some acclaim, taken on lots of other writing jobs such as those stated above, was working on a second novel which (I think) is better than the first and was working on a football book with another mate. That’s not a bad year. I’ll go further. It’s the year I’ve been waiting for since my name first appeared in a fanzine in 1993.

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I may not have planted a flag in the minds of the nation but I was beginning to be taken a little more seriously.

A statement year.

But I felt awful.

I felt like nothing on earth. I was a fraud, a coward, a cheat and the worst type of human who lies and steals praise from his friends for his own twisted validation. I was kidding everyone but myself and I didn’t like it.

Karl, with his dad

When you’re in that state you can’t go out. You ignore emails and texts and wish the world would go away. Some people even take the final step and I can see why. I’m not suicidal –I’ve no interest in dying- but I’ve often wished that I could be taken out of time like I’ve never existed. I can live with being a disappointment to myself but no one else. Put me in a cave somewhere. Let my life fail to touch yours. No one will be hurt then.

I told my GP this and she smiled warmly and added ‘but you’re not depressed?’

I said that I objected to the term and maybe I had some of the undercard to that word –stress, anxiety, low self-esteem etc- but not the full blown kit and caboodle. Not the D-word.

She asked if I were able to write those words in a satellite around one enormous word, what would that word be? Then I was diagnosed. I have depression. Not bi-polar or anything similar, but a depression that isn’t focused on one life incident. I just have it. People do.

She gave me a list of medication options and asked me to go away and think about it. I’m very lucky here. My sister is a pharmacy lecturer so I called her (not an easy call to make) and went through a few options. A week later (and what a grim week that was) I signed up for a course of meds. I’m on a fairly low dosage which I’m happy with but I’ve been told that it’s hardly on the Junior Disprin level.

‘Enlightening, harrowing and fascinating in equal measure’

Therapy (CBT) took longer to organise. The NHS being stretched as it is meant that I would have to look at group therapy more than one-to-one work. I laughed that off. There’s more chance of me giving birth than sitting in a room and talking about my week with people I didn’t know.

I started one-to-one sessions about six weeks ago and so far it’s been enlightening, harrowing and fascinating in equal measure. I’m told it isn’t going to always be a song and dance but it will work out eventually. My sister tells me I have a lack of something in my brain and I’m being topped up like a car engine. That’s all. The cranial version of a sprained ankle. Plenty of serotonin and vitamin D please.

So, anyway, this is where I am at the moment. So, why am I here?

Well, today isn’t a good day. I’ve been tense, anxious and have shrunk away from the world a bit. It’s been a busy day too and, with my walk completed (I’ve taken to walking 5-6 miles per day) I’ve had a long time to listen to my thoughts. They haven’t been pleasant. I’m restless too and that’s led me to the laptop, to Word Document 1, to vomiting words onto a page that will make little sense. Ordinarily I’d distract myself by writing about football but I’m on holiday as far as that goes so what else is there? I apologise for your part in all this.

One of the most interesting aspects about my particular dose of depression is the battle between logic and emotions. All day I’ve been worried about stupid things which I know cannot harm me in the long term. For example, I have to put my car through its MOT on Monday. It’s an old car and I’m sure it’ll pass with a bit of work on it but for some reason I’m convinced I won’t have a car at all by the end of the week. I need a car for my day job and without a job I will be destitute and the whole thing will spiral. Earlier this week I replaced two tyres as I thought they were on the turn (ho ho) so they can’t fail me on that. They’ll find something though, You watch.

‘An internal feud between thought and feelings’

The corrective argument is, of course, what is the worst thing that can happen? The garage will be into my ribs for a few hundred quid which I can pay off on my flexible friend. I can’t see me wandering home like George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life with just a set of car keys in my hand, but try telling my mind that. This is the emotional side of things. The doom process. The logic says ‘people go through MOTs, Karl. People fail them and then fix something and then pass them’ I have for one, but you might as well try to convince me that David Icke is really onto something…

Earlier today as I sat in the car in traffic I thought ‘all I do is let people down.’ The logical side took over and asked me, quite rightly, when was the last time I honestly let anyone down? Rarely, I’d say. I’m nice to people, too nice at times, and am alright really, but that argument holds no brook with what’s going on up here.

Logic always takes a back seat as it can’t stop your mind from racing. The sheer energy I waste in worry could fuel a small nuclear power plant. If I put that energy into writing, reading, learning, anything I might actually make something of my life. But in some ways, I have done something with my life, I suppose. Things are going pretty well, generally.

This whole illness is an internal feud between thought and feelings.

So, what do I do? Well, everyone is different and I’m quite fortunate with the manner in which I try to distract myself. Some resort to mania or self-abuse of one kind or another, but I’m lucky enough to be a bit dull in that respect. I have passions. Not manic as such, or at least not in the bipolar sense, but I latch onto things that no one is remotely arsed about. A couple of years ago I decided to read up on American presidents. Names, dates, Vice Presidents, running mates, age at time of death, heights (Abraham Lincoln was the tallest, James Madison easily the shortest) and anything and everything about the Commander-in-Chief.

This fast became an obsession. Biographies were consumed and irritating trivia was mined which served no one (Martin Van Buren, the 8th President, was the first to be born an American citizen yet English wasn’t his first language). I’d spend hours on Sporcle, answering quizzes, writing them out in under a minute, then doing it backwards. Test me, test me, test me. Then I got bored with them and tried something else. It’s the Whitechapel murders of 1888 at the moment but it’s been the films of Alfred Hitchcock, Taekwondo patterns, Korean, Philip Larkin, David Bowie, chess (with openings taking centre stage), the works of PG Wodehouse and, a lifelong love, Sherlock Holmes. I’ve no idea what’s next but it’ll be something.

Some may read that and decide that I’m just curious about odd things, or that I’m just curious (I forgot astronomy. Jesus, I could bore people for weeks on that subject) but it’s probably just a way to get out of ‘this’ feeling. The question is, would I want to change that? Would I swap that thirst, that craving for knowledge and live a perfectly happy bland life if I could get rid of ‘the thing’? Well, today has been a bad day so probably, but tomorrow may give a different response.

In some ways, I like being like this. Not always, but sometimes. By this I mean the inquisitive side of my nature, not the dark hours when no room is dark enough and no space small enough to hide.

Today is over. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. Some tea and then bed. Let’s see what tomorrow’s mind wants.

By Karl Coppack

Karl is a former writer for Through The Wind and Rain and a whole host of others who are desperate for copy. Troubled with the modern world, grimaces at ball-playing centre halves and frowns at fancy-dan back heels. Apt to talk about the magnificence of Ray Kennedy wherever possible.

Karl’s debut novel, And What Do You Do? is available on Kindle download (not about footy). To check out more of his writing visit The Anfield Wrap and follow him on Twitter @thecenci

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Filed Under: Men’s Insights Tagged With: Depression, Karl Coppack, The Cenci

  • Groan

    I too have “the thing” and have had for 20 years. My “feuds” sounds just exactly the same. When I got to CBT it turned out I’d largely developed the habits to manage my bouts. No idea what it means to you but every shared story that shows me I’m not that special is a big help. In my case I do the behaviours of “normal” no matter how hard and the emotions gradually fall back into the usual range.
    Personally the sudden death of my father when I was 7 probably has a role. Also an exaggerated (or perhaps even ordinary) sense of responsibility for my partner and dependents, the clue being the first feud occurring not long after the birth of my first child. Now maybe a resolution might come from some deep therapy but to be honest I’m more comfortable with tasks and routines to apply to re-calibrate mind and emotion and get back to normal(ish) service. I’d recommend CBT.

  • http://www.theskirtedman.eu Jeremy Hutchinson

    I too suffer from Depression. As you say not bipolar or other serious forms like suicide. I have suffered this if I’m honest for the last 30 years, bounced around in my early years, found solace with my wife who really is a true best friend and made me realise that the world can be different but it was still there. The baggage of the past needed to be deleted but as two amateurs how. In the mid 90’s some 5 years of marriage NHS help was sought via the GP but Depression help was really not there.

    A huge life style change in 1998, literally packing up and relocating with no jobs helped, my wife securing a job in the teaching profession in the new area and I starting self employment consisting of just me and my clients. All my hobbies and interests that had died of over the years all came back. Sadly as two amateurs my baggage was still there and crept back in with societies attitudes, perceptions, expectations and to me if you are not one of the ‘clan or share drinking or sporting interests’ pushed aside, the sense of nothing a failure lures. In 2010 it became too much I was worse than before our life change but we had a good GP and by then Depression was recognised more seriously and I sought help from a female Counsellor.

    She showed me how to to handle Depression. I had no problem with talking and although at that time I thought suicidal she convinced me that I clearly wasn’t. Like you, I obviously had no intention of dying. She also helped sort out a long standing issue of mine within the world of labels. stereotypes that society places upon others either as individuals or within groups.

    Life is good now, for us both, especially since 2012. My wife has retired from a stressful occupation which indirectly brought negativity towards me and now works along side me in my self employment but as you say at times it is awful still. Awful with the occasional regression and implementation of what I need to do and realise I have to do. These got fewer and fewer as I sensibly altered my life so as not to allow the Depression which can still be around for me. It’s like being an alcoholic, going back to drink often makes it return. I need to remain positive, look forward positive, reflect on matters positively and implement strategies to cope with the big wide world out there which is primarily negative. These do become easier as time moves on but negativity for someone who suffers from Depression is not good.

    Recently though in mid August I had a huge bout of external negativity, massive amount, couldn’t avoid it, recovering slightly I hit another external negativity in early October and this put me back, contemplating going back to a Counsellor. I maintained my work, concentrated purely on two main hobbies that give me a positive boost, serious DIY eg real building work, and walking. I stepped away from anything negative, that included topics on male gender discrimination etc. This kept me ‘busy’ on being positive, replay all the strategies that I can still recall as if my Counsellor was sat in front of me and then the low mood shifts, you think rationally and move forward. We have both learnt from this temporary regression and have placed strategies from now on. The sad thing is very few will recognise this even if they knew some one was suffering, to many it’s not an illness, and is usually followed with ‘pull yourself together’. You do but not in the sense that they expect. Having gone through this I see many people in self denial of depression, even many of our friends so I didn’t even talk to them about it this last time. Yes they cope, tick by, exist and survive and yes to them they are happy but with my Counsellor I’ve seen the other side of being “positive”.

    If you suffer from Depression, triggers are not consistent, or the same. I find there is no pattern. The secret is to remain busy, positive and I keep recalling what my Counsellor said to me “be proud of myself, me, an individual, a man, look at what I have, I am, rather than what I don’t have or what others expect. Why try and get the world to look at you? We are simply many worlds within one, concentrate on your own world and above all ignore what others say about you. Move on, ignore them, you are you, not them.”

    All the best. I strongly recommend recognising Depression and get help with a Counsellor. It is very rewarding in so many ways.

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