We Owe It to Robin Williams to Talk About Mental Health

Last night I took my daily anti-depressant and crawled into bed. 

Without a second thought of what I would read, I took what I expected to be a final glance at Twitter. It was hard to miss the succession of tweets each shouting 'BREAKING' down my timeline. 

The death of a celebrity is something social media is still learning how to deal with. The initial fear is that it's a terrible, sick joke. Sadly, last night's news was very real.

Robin Williams was one of the greats. You only have to look at his filmography to realise just how many films you knew and loved. The man who made generation after generation laugh. But social media was shocked to learn that he had been battling depression. How could such a funny man be so unhappy? If we want to show Robin our appreciation for all the laughs, let's do our bit to help end those questions. Let's finally see depression recognised for the silent killer it is. 

Many true & important words being said about #mentalhealth today. We hope they'll help someone. #RIPRobinWilliams pic.twitter.com/Ii8H8p5BCU
— Mind (@MindCharity) August 12, 2014

I was first diagnosed with depression at 15 after bullying resulted in an attempted suicide. I was ignorant as to what illness I'd been labelled as having. As were many others I quickly discovered. If I had a penny for every, "you seem so happy", '"you're in a good mood today", "get some fresh air and you'll be fine!" I've heard over a decade...

I tried numerous times to stop taking my medication, convincing myself that I had somehow become too reliant on them. I couldn't possibly be normal if I was taking this drug to somehow function. Lesson learned the hard way as days locked away in total darkness would follow. The scariest thing I find is how heavy I can feel my head become - like there is a sudden mass just filling every empty space. 

I've never been great at communicating with a doctor about how I'm feeling. I've always turned to writing it down, always with the intention of keeping it private. Late last year I had a very dark period, while still taking the medication. It took weeks too long but I eventually sought help and had the dosage increased; the first change in nine years. I was mortified. There I was at 24, crying in a GP's surgery, approaching a decade with this illness and now needing that extra bit of help.

Almost a year later and it's been far from plain sailing. Getting older has made it harder to live with depression, as normal everyday things become more and more of a challenge. Life goes on all around you but no one wants to wait for you to catch up. It's understandably difficult as they can see you on a so-called 'good day'. Walking, talking, even smiling. See, I'm totally fine! That actor making millions laugh? He's got it all, he looks so happy. Some will hear that Robin Williams was suffering from depression and still to fail to understand why we have heard the tragic news today. Ignorance is already in fine display across the internet as the word 'selfish' is repulsively used to describe a man whose battle they will never know the true extent of. 

Talk to us any time you like, off the record, about whatever’s getting to you. pic.twitter.com/6B8I7ICH5i
— Samaritans (@samaritans) June 16, 2014

People see what they want to see. And when they can't see depression, it's very easy to forget that it even exists. There's no badges, no big flashing arrow above our heads; the requirement is suddenly on the sufferer to be the person to say it. And if you know depression, you know that that isn't going to be easy.

It's no secret that men are diagnosed with depression much less than women. The stigma of living with this so frequently misunderstood illness is frightening. Be it family, friends, colleagues... the fear of them not understanding you can leave you to suffer alone. Please, please, please, do not do that to yourself. You are suffering from a very real, very dangerous illness and you deserve all the help and support available.

"You're in a bad mood". A sentence that has made my blood boil on so many occasions. But take it. If someone gives you those few words, grab them. Admit you are. Telling that one person is all it might take. It will be the bravest decision you'll make, and you will never regret it. 

While writing, I also found so much strength and comfort in reading stories from others who are living through the good and bad days. You're not alone. You're never alone.

It's extremely sad that it takes the death of such a universally loved husband and father to spark a conversation like this, but if one person out there can seek help as a result, I think everyone would agree that it is a conversation well worth having.

If you need to talk to anyone or are concerned about someone else, you can find help and advice:
NHS - http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/depression/Pages/Introduction.aspx
Mind - http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/depression/#.U-nYVvldVFw
Samaritans - http://www.samaritans.org/
Mental Health Foundation - http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/help-information/mental-health-a-z/D/depression/

The 'D' word

I was going to open this with a definition of the word depression, however I couldn’t find one that I felt worked for me.








I couldn’t find the right phrase to describe what I feel defines something that has defined me as a person over the last decade.

I’ve touched on the subject in my post from last December, but it is going to back to 2005 when I took an overdose in the early hours of a Monday morning - I was that terrified about facing another week at school.

In the months that followed I saw a stream of people from an adolescent mental health team to the school counsellor. The latter being quite a challenge - I completed my GCSEs studying at home, only venturing to the school to see an American counsellor who visited once every two weeks.

From what I remember, I was quite quickly prescribed anti-depressants. On reflection I don’t remember a great deal about the early stages of taking the medication. I just know they worked.

During all of this I was of course still keeping the secret of being gay. Quite a big topic to have avoided discussing - but I was also scared at it becoming ‘the focus’ and dealing with my own feelings, blaming it for causing this ‘mess’ I was in.

It’s taken a very long time, but I’ve come to terms with the fact this is a life-long situation for me.
I’ve struggled - my poor parents can vouch for that - with taking medication regularly and trying to live without it. What was I thinking?! I got a few good weeks out of those experiences before needing some interventions...

Of course, medication doesn’t make everything perfect. Moving to London was always my ambition, but I had to convince myself I could cope with it. Almost three years in, I won’t lie, it’s not always easy.

There’s been long periods of struggling through and navigating my way through dark, confusing and scary thoughts. But that’s where I find myself being a different person. Different to the teenager who gave up almost a decade ago; having a family who I love and adore, a best friend I can turn too no matter what, a job I bloody love and other people in my life who I feel care if I’m at my desk in the morning has made ‘growing up’ and dealing with who I am a much easier experience. My best friend would probably describe me as a “stubborn bastard”. That’s the best compliment I could ask for. That stubbornness has got me where I am today.

I found it funny when a celebrity, who I had interviewed several times, called me the ‘smiliest person he’d ever met’. Don’t get me wrong, I am a happy person! The downside being that people can’t quite comprehend this side to you when you’re in a bad patch. It makes it more difficult. Mental health of course still carries that stigma. The clear lack of understanding I see on a daily basis when I read through Twitter can be quite astounding and heartbreaking. Then I remember that I don’t do anything about that. As little as I could do, I've always stayed quiet about my personal experiences.

Am I embarrassed? Yes, sometimes. Wrong answer perhaps, but the honest one.
It’s not the easiest topic to discuss, it’s not easy to describe to people and even reading lines of this blog back have made me cringe - just thinking how some people might read it and possibly judge me.

But this is me. I live with this. I know what I’ve been through and know how depression has, and will continue to be a big part of my life. So I’m dealing with it and where better to start with that than by getting over my own struggle to speak about my experiences. I’ve read some amazing pieces from people who have been to darker places than I can’t even begin to imagine. I’ve been so inspired by those stories.

I want to do something useful, no matter how small, to help continue the battle to raise awareness, spread understanding and provide a greater focus on mental health issues in the UK.

I finally found the #timetotalk :)

Mental Health Awareness Week: May 18th - May 24th - http://www.mentalhealth.org.uk

Mind - http://www.mind.org.uk

Stonewall - http://www.stonewall.org.uk

Something I finally decided to share.

I initially wrote this in the body of an email and then, after running it past a couple of people, decided I would share it on my Twitter and Facebook. The reaction was overwhelming. I wanted to make sure I had it posted on this so that I always have quick and easy access for those days when I need to remind myself that I am happy and proud of where I am.

Another day of Tom Daley headlines made me think about my own experiences. So I started writing tonight and after a few hours of debate I decided I'd just bite the bullet and post it here... Phew!  

It’s been four and a half years since I sent an email telling my parents I was gay.
Almost as long as I spent knowing who I was and trying desperately to hide it, to stop anyone from getting to know the real me.

Having been bullied for quite a number of years, the realisation that I would have this extra label to try and cope with was not easy. Did it help trying to hide it? Of course not. I know that now…. As a scared and lonely 16 year old it was something else to fear. Looking back I was called “gay boy”, “faggot” etc etc quite a lot in secondary school. I’d ask myself if they knew something I didn’t or was it just because I was happier in the library and could sit and chat my favourite English teacher for hours; perhaps “gay” was the only word they knew to throw out as an insult?

Either way, once I’d realised who I was came a very difficult few years of not being sure what do next. I’m very envious of people who can look back on their teenage years and proclaim them to have been the “best years of their life”. From a failed suicide attempt at 15 I found myself lost for several years. I cut myself off from everyone I knew - no really, literally every single person - and studied at home. Without my parents and siblings I wouldn’t have survived that period. They got me through it, they encouraged me to focus on getting through that dark period and focusing on the one thing I hadn’t let anyone take me from - the ambition to live in London and do a job I loved.

So there I was, the fat, shy, nerdy one who had attempted suicide (If I ever hear the words ‘cry for help’ again….) and was now home schooled. It wasn’t exactly going well. And then there was the gay thing. Counselling never helped me. I guess the fact I was hiding this ‘secret’ wasn’t great, but it got to the point where I felt it was too late to bring up. Was it the root cause of my ‘issues’? I didn’t want to accept that and I certainly wasn’t going to hand it over as a ‘reason’. The thought of it terrified me. And so it stayed bottled up.

To avoid this becoming a novel I’ll skip forward to March 2009. I moved to London to do my NCTJ course. I moved into my aunts for the first month, during which I celebrated my 19th birthday. Mum came over for the weekend as we had the house to ourselves. In between flat hunting I somehow reached the conclusion that this was when I needed to tell her. She deserved to know. I genuinely couldn’t have been blessed with two more amazing parents and keeping this secret was quite frankly insulting to them. So I was going to do it on the Sunday evening. I’ll never forget an evening going so fast. Next thing I know Brokeback Mountain is on. So what did I do? Panicked and went to bed. Incredible.

And so my moment was gone. I then had the worst week ever. I remember locking myself away and not leaving the house. I was so distraught at my own failure. Then at 3am on the Friday night I spontaneously wrote everything I wanted to say in an email and before I could stop myself, hit send. It was done. It all felt very surreal - I recall being quite bemused at how calm I felt climbing into bed knowing that the email would be read quite early the next morning.

The next part couldn’t have gone any better - it was quite incredible. Coming out had been this terrifying nightmare which I had built up to be something much worse in my head. Instead my only emotion now was total guilt for having done it via email. I had done my family a disservice by hiding it from them and only telling them via a bloody email. I’ll regret that forever - they deserved so much more from me than that.

I’ve digressed a little now, but that’s the basics. Watching Tom Daley’s video this week brought it all back to me. Seeing how Tom bravely spoke about his feelings knowing he was telling the world that he was in love really hit me hard. I’m almost jealous that I didn’t have that video to watch as a scared 19-year-old. Seeing people complain that someone coming out should’t be news brings up such conflicting emotions for me. Of course it shouldn’t in a perfect world. We love who we love, why should it need to be explained or justified in a YouTube video?

Alas we do not live in that perfect world. However, we are lucky to live in a time when there is more acceptance, more love and understanding - but there is still a long way to go. People are still persecuted and bullied for who they love. Some are not as fortunate as I am and can find themselves without the support of a loving family. In the world I live in, I most certainly want that to remain news. If Tom Daley coming out being national news provides encouragement to one other scared person - from teenager to sportsperson - then he has done an incredible thing for which he deserves all the praise and support he has received.

Being gay is something I still struggle with. Just last week I told myself that I was not ‘a very good gay’ and immediately spent the rest of the day feeling shit. It’s quite pathetic, I know.
I spent so long trying to hide this part of me that it can still be quite difficult to remember that I don’t have to do that anymore for anyone. That’s probably a whole other blog post tough to be honest. I’m not sure what writing this actually achieves, but I felt the need to just express some thoughts. I felt such admiration for Tom yesterday that I didn’t really want to tweet about - it felt strange to declare how proud I was of someone I don’t know personally, but I genuinely did. If i, like Tom will be, could in any way be a person of support for anyone going through that quiet struggle, I would feel like all those awful experiences had been worthwhile. 

Mind
http://www.mind.org.uk
http://www.twitter.com/MindCharity

Stonewall
http://www.stonewall.org.uk
http://www.twitter.com/stonewalluk