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MY MENTAL HEALTH STORY - by mr Biffo

24/5/2017

41 Comments

 
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I tried several times this morning to move on from the Manchester attack, and write something light-hearted, but I'm not there yet. What happened at the Ariana Grande concert knocked me sideways. I can always feel the despair at terrorist attacks, but this one hit me differently.

Given the target, and as a father of slightly-too-many daughters, this one was far too close to home. It's just too overwhelmingly sad.

So, sorry... but I'm just going to start writing and see where it takes me - and I doubt, once again, that it's going to be about video games. It'll pass though. It always does. Normal service will be resumed.

These days, if I ever get down I don't get down for very long. I'm fortunate in that I don't think I'm genetically predisposed towards depression. A bit of shitty work-related news, or money worries, and I can be fed up for a day or so, but it feels like a normal human response. I'm lucky, I guess. I've too many friends who suffer from mental health issues, and I feel powerless to help them.

There has been no real history of depression in my family, aside from some distant great-uncle who threw himself under a train. When I have been depressed, or when everything in my life has felt helpless or off-kilter, I can - with the benefit of hindsight - see that it's not without some root cause. Whenever I've been low in my life - even really low - I can see that it hasn't come from nowhere. 

For a family that has managed to weather a number of real tragedies over the years, I think we have a noble capacity for picking ourselves up and moving forwards. At least, until the point that we can't.

I wanted to write about this subject during the recent Mental Health Awareness Week, but when it came to it... I just felt too exposed. I sort of resented myself for that - that there were so many people bravely discussing their own mental health history, including good friends of mine, and here I was... far too embarrassed or ashamed to do so. 

It's that classic "Boys don't cry" thing that has been drummed into too many of us. Speaking as someone who was bullied as a kid, not making myself appear vulnerable is a coping strategy.

Well... I do cry, and yesterday - seeing the reports from Manchester - I fought those tears quite a bit. So, y'know... let's give this a go. Let's see if I can talk about this without bottling it.
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TALKING POINTS
I've suffered from depression at points in my life, but it took a long time for it to manifest in any way that might be considered "classic" depression. It wasn't in me the day I was born; it needed to be built, layer upon layer, until the weight of it caused my foundation to crumble in upon itself.
 
I think that this is kind of what I wanted to talk about a few weeks ago - that depression, being clinically fed-up, whatever you want to call it, doesn't always take a (for want of a better term) "classic" form. I rarely allowed myself the luxury of wallowing and indulging the depression. I was always taught that picking yourself up, and forcing yourself to move forward, was the way to tackle it. Unfortunately, upon reflection, I think that might've been, like, really bad advice. 

Despite being pretty severely bullied from a young age, to more or less the time I left school, and amid that having had to go through the death of a 9 month-old niece (and the suicide of my grandfather a week later), parents with a fairly volatile marriage, and feeling replaced by my mother's noble (I now realise) decision to foster, I'm amazed that I reached adulthood with little more than a bunch of insecurities.

I didn't ever feel there was a black cloud inside me, that was part of me. I became a parent at 18, and though it was a shock, and - unplanned as it was - alienated a lot of my friends, it gave me the stability I had needed. I did, and still do, adore being a father. 

It was many years later, when that stability was rocked by a couple of major relationship bombshells, that the cracks in this stability first appeared. It allowed a lot of stuff from my childhood to bubble up - like throwing a big rock in a river, and watching all the crap that had settled on the bottom, out of view, to float to the surface. 

I'd held onto the same mantra that my parents had lived by - you stay together for the kids no matter what - but it pulled against the reality of where I found myself. For a year I had what might be called "classic" depression. Through it, I continued to work; there was a mortgage still to pay. Some days were harder than others - I remember one occasion still typing at my keyboard, while being slumped on the floor under my desk.

However, believing there no way out of the situation without disappointing my family - who made it abundantly clear that they wouldn't support my decision to walk away - I succeeded in pulling a functional version of myself back together and soldiered on... "for the sake of the kids, matter what". It was a timebomb, frankly.

My family had always done this; we'd been taught to put ourselves last, and everyone else first - particularly our children. Marriage was sacrosanct, however unhappy it might be.

What I now realise is that for the next few years I was probably still depressed. I never realised, because my symptoms - such as they were - manifested as the opposite of what I thought depression was. Rather than spend all day in bed, I became manically driven, and my work ethic went through the roof. 

And then I went really mad.
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THE EDGE
​If a lot of this is unspecific and lacking detail, I apologise, but it's purely to protect my kids. I'll do as much as possible to own this, and get the general gist across.

In the end, it didn't take much to tip me over the edge. Just one small comment, followed by a kidney-punch from my employers at Teletext, that they were stripping away much of what I'd loved about writing Digitiser, and cutting my salary in half to boot.

The final straw, ironically, was when I chose to leave Digitiser in March 2003. Though Teletext had reversed the decision to cull Digi's humour, by removing myself from that continuity - which had been part of my life for a decade - I'd lost my final piece of solid ground.

My relationship had crumbled away, but rather than properly end it as we should've done, we felt the pressure from family, friends, and our inner voices, to keep up appearances. We split. Somebody would say something, so we got back together and tried again. We split. Somebody would say something, so we got back together and tried again. That was the pattern.

What ensued were a few years where - looking back on it - I was manic. I can see now that I was deeply, profoundly, unhappy. I told myself that I was taking control of my life, but the steering column was broken. For longer than I care to admit, I drove through life taking out wing mirrors and clipping pedestrians.

Worst of all, the part of me that I think of as the real me looked on like some helpless bystander while this maniac did his best to wreck my life. I stopped liking myself. I hated my behaviour, I hated having hurt people, I hated that I couldn't see a way out. Was this who I really was?!

Unfortunately, I was operating in a sort of feedback loop where more manic behaviour begat more manic behaviour - even in just general day to day interactions with people. More instability led to more instability. The more unpleasant I was, the more I hated myself.

It was worse on the Internet. Of course, back then we were still all learning the rules, but on the Board of Biffo - a forum attached to the blog I'd created as an attempt to hang onto some of the continuity I'd lost when I'd stopped writing Digitiser - things went from bad to worse.
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BOTTOMS UP!
I hit rock bottom when the Board of Biffo imploded, when being "Mr Biffo" made me vulnerable to people using me as a target, or to settle scores... when my own dickishness invited more dickishness. I had my privacy violated, I had my children contacted online and their safety threatened. People posed as me on message boards, or spread weird rumours about me. Attempts were made to blackmail me, and I was stalked.

I felt that I'd brought it all upon myself, and upon my family, and to a considerable degree I had. "Mad Mr Biffo", as I was occasionally referred to, wasn't all that far from the truth. It was too much. 

Yet it's because of my kids that I didn't throw in the towel. I mean, there were plenty of times when I wanted to. When following in the family tradition of throwing myself under a train felt like the only way to stop it, and I screamed and raged at my life, but I knew I had to change it. It was an untenable situation. It was change or stop. I was very, very, very low.... I knew I couldn't go on with things the way they had been; sooner or later it would become impossible to live with. I had to try.

It was a gradual process. First, I went to the police about some of the above. Second, I had to take myself apart, and examine how I'd ended up here, how my life had become such an utter mess. I had to learn to stop blaming myself for everything - or, at least, take responsibility for my own actions, but also try to understand them.

I took myself out of the public eye, and though I couldn't quit my job as a screenwriter entirely - I still had bills to pay, and I still enjoyed it - I stopped focusing on grown-up telly, and put my energies into the less high-profile world of kids TV. Being Mr Biffo brought its own dramas, and I couldn't deal with them on top of everything else. I returned to being Paul Rose.

I worked towards moving out of writing altogether. That's how much I wanted to disappear. I toyed with becoming a teacher - but could find no way to train that would also leave me without a home - and then settled on psychotherapy as a potential career change.

I'd dabbled with therapy, to limited success; one therapist told me I sounded lonely, which was the first time I'd ever considered that, yes, I was deeply lonely. However, it wasn't until I signed onto the Foundation Degree course that the real big life changes came about.

Through that, I realised that the "stability" I kept trying to return to, with little success - my marriage - was nothing but an illusion of safety, and that I was there because "Staying together for the kids" was a condition of my own self-worth. That had been drummed into me from birth.

By trying to make it work - when the foundations of what a relationship should be built on had been  destroyed many years before - I was trying not to harm my children, and had been hanging onto what I believed was a shred of security.

​By trying to make it work I'd been hurting my kids and slowly killing myself. 
DROP OUT
I eventually dropped out of my training; a burning cauldron of self-examination designed to make therapists and counsellors as secure as possible. I've written before about the reasons why I quit, but it reached a point where it had done me all the good it could, and going over the same ground again and again was keeping me trapped in the past.

However, I'd also met and fallen in love with my current partner.

​Through her, I learned to like - and then love - myself again. Her acceptance of me, warts and all, was one of the key rebuilding blocks. She saw in me the good that I no longer could. The other thing this gave me was finding a stability again. It took a while, of course. There were still changes in my life to go through - aside from a new relationship, there were a couple of house moves, my kids moving out and growing up - and such key events always require some adjustment. 

Ultimately, though, removing myself from a situation that had made me unhappy, and finding myself somewhere happy, somewhere that gave me the continuity and acceptance I'd lacked, was the final element I needed to change my life. It helped me find myself again, and through that I was able to enjoy life and accept myself. 

That makes it sound simple, but of course it wasn't. It took time. It took effort and willpower, and support.

It's hard to have regrets about a life I now love, but if I do have them, my biggest is that I know there are people out there who most likely hate me, because at one point in my life I wasn't who I've always wanted to be. There are people out there who have known only a version of me that I existed as for a few wretched years. I can only apologise for the collateral damage, and hope they've moved on from the arsehole I was. I'm truly sorry.
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TIPS SECTION
So there you go. That's my own mental health story. I don't know if any of it will be helpful. I don't know how it'll be received. I hope that some of you will be able to take at least something from it which might be useful.

Feeling vulnerable, I hope you don't all laugh at my misfortune, or read any of this as self-pity; I've simply tried to tell the story as honestly and openly as I'm able. I'm not bulletproof - none of us are - I still get hurt, I still get scared, I still feel insecure from time to time. But it feels like its within acceptable, "normal", tolerable, parameters.

I can't guarantee that what worked for me will work for everyone. We're all wired our own way. The only thing I implore is that we all just be kind and accepting of one another.

People with depression or other mental health people can be an energy drain, but they can't get beyond it if we don't offer them unconditional acceptance. That isn't to mean you have to indulge them - sometimes people do need tough-love, because depression can come to be a way of life, like wearing a pair of old slippers that are worn through (
you can always buy new slippers). It can be used to exploit the better nature of others.

Nevertheless, empathy - in big and small ways - is the key to making the world a better, happier place, and improving the lives of those around you. Surely, we all want that don't we? Surely, we don't want to be the person who makes somebody's day worse? You never know what else they might be dealing with.


I dunno if this'll be useful, but in conclusion - before we (hopefully) get back to talking about video games and bums - I'll offer you some bullet points on what I take away from my experience. Just remember, I'm not an expert.

  • If you don't like yourself, ask what it is you don't like. Wouldn't you rather be the person you want to be? 
  • If you don't like yourself, and how you're living your life, then it's probably a sign that something isn't right. It might take a lot of effort and willpower, but you can change it.
  • If you don't like your life, ask what it is that you don't like. Are you making people around you unhappy because of it? If so, something is wrong that needs fixing.
  • Take responsibility for your actions, but don't be too hard on yourself. For a while, when I was in the grip of beating myself up, I carried around a photo of myself as a kid. Every time I started giving myself a hard time I'd pull out the picture and ask whether I'd say the same things to that little boy.
  • Change is scary, but it's like ripping off a plaster. Sometimes you just have to do it. The pain doesn't have to last forever.
  • It's a cliche, but make sure your oxygen mask is fitted before you try to help others.
  • Try to recognise when you're doing stuff because you've internalised the values of others - "Boys don't cry"... "People have to stay together for the kids" etc. - and do what is right for you. Those aren't necessarily your values.
  • Try to remember that everyone has got their own stuff going on too. How they see you is as much down to them seeing the world through this lens as it is you. 
  • Be aware that you also see others through your own frame of reference; chances are, they're nothing like what you think they are.
  • Asking for help is nothing to be ashamed of. Don't suffer alone. If your friends or family can't help, or are part of the problem, seek professional help. Anti-depressants can help.
  • There's also no shame in admitting that you're depressed; it's part of being human. 
  • But check when you're legitimately depressed and can't function, and recognise when you're just doing it because it's convenient; we're all capable of wallowing.
  • ​Nothing is more important than your happiness. If you're happy, you'll make other people happy. Be who you want to be.
  • You're stronger than you realise.
FROM THE ARCHIVE:
A FEW WORDS FOR MANCHESTER - BY MR BIFFO
​
ME AND DAVE PERRY; A TALE OF TWO GAMING VETERANS - BY MR BIFFO
​
THE FALL OF ATARI: EYEWITNESS ACCOUNT - BY MR BIFFO



41 Comments
John Veness
24/5/2017 11:32:29 am

We love you, Mr B.

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Mr Biffo
24/5/2017 08:00:28 pm

Aw, thanks, John...

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Simon James
24/5/2017 12:12:09 pm

Thanks. Well done.

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Treacle
24/5/2017 12:18:22 pm

Relating what you wrote to my personal experience of depression, I can only say that you have written some very wise words. As someone said in the comments section yesterday, digi is a community, and despite all the silliness it has a very big heart, so love and hugs to you Biffo, and to everyone else in this little community you've built.

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Damon link
24/5/2017 12:36:36 pm

I totally get the manic thing.

Around 14 my GP ("Family Doctor" or whatever) suggested I may have depression. I suspect he told my mother first and she's the reason he asked me at all if I thought I might have depression. At 14, of course, I didn't understand what it was or how it worked. So I insisted I couldn't have it.

Then, I guess I was around 22, I realized I probably did have it. That's also around the age I was permitted into the treasure-trove of my family's history of mental illness. Let's just say there's a lot there to keep anyone busy.

Armed now with the knowledge I probably had depression-- or perhaps worse, bi-polar-- I had to decide what to do about it. I didn't want medication for fear that I may become dependent and find I didn't have it when I needed it. So I had to decide how to live my life with it. Coping skills.

Now where it more directly links back into Biffo's story is that it's very easy to get into a manic pattern. If you're too stressed and busy then you don't have time to be miserable, You have people depending on you for deadlines, projects and so on. In my case there's no kids... but I tend to bite off more than I can chew to give myself a project to distract myself. It's not healthy and, er, I'm trying to stop it but it sort of creeps up on you. Someone asks for help and you think, "sure, I can do that" then someone else and you very quickly start to think it's better for everyone, including yourself, to say yes, rather than no.

Gak.

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Rob
24/5/2017 12:59:56 pm

Thank you for writing this. I won't go into details, but I see so many, many echoes with my own experiences. Then recently losing my favourite parent, and now the events this last Monday, I too find myself fighting back the tears - more of the time than not, today.. It's natural, I should let them out, but "boys don't cry" so I feel conflicted and all torn up.

I've never been a avid Digitiser fan; I was aware of it of course, and of Mr Biffo, but I'm not really a gamer, and I guess our paths through life just never intersected. I will be watching now, though. You've put together my thoughts and words in a way I never could.

Love and hugs.

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Fontoon x
24/5/2017 01:16:41 pm

That has actually helped me a lot. Esp in understanding some of the Board Of Biffo stuff.
You're awesome for sharing.

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dan de la peche
24/5/2017 01:31:13 pm

It was good to read this. I'm currently going through the suicide of my uncle, who I was very close to, and I still hadn't really dealt with the suicide of my other uncle who I was also close to, which was fourteen years ago, next month. I'm just over a month into this turn on the grief merry-go-round and every single day is like trudging through a mire of shit.

Reading this has actually helped a little, even though it's not the same thing.

Thanks.

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Jareth Smith
24/5/2017 01:34:34 pm

Lovely article, thank you Mr. Biffo. I consider myself fairly manic depressive and with a range of anxiety issues which make a "normal" life pretty much impossible, but I keep myself happy and occupied with creativity and escapism. It gets easier as you get older, but being a part of "generation rent" and with all of the work struggles post-university in a recession stricken, low wage society really took its toll on mine (and, I'm sure, many others' mental health).

A common misconception is, I find, depressed people must be depressing company. It's usually quite the opposite - to friends and colleagues, I'm the carefree, witty, jokey, silly individual with seemingly nary a concern. I think folks are becoming more aware of mental health issues now, however, although you still get those suffering from Old Fart Syndrome applying the "snowflakes" moniker and whatnot. I say!

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John
24/5/2017 03:15:45 pm

I like the 'Old Fart Syndrome'. In some cases, just tough for people to learn new things - my parents are, despite being very clever people, definitely stuck in the received wisdom of their age. So just think - for all our faults, just by being more aware of mental health, you and I are actively creating a wiser, more tolerant generation than the ones that went before.

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Jareth Smith
24/5/2017 05:18:37 pm

It's good news indeed - progressivism in action. I have noticed, not wishing to turn this into a polemical rant, right wingers are the ones who struggle most with change. Bloody leftists! etc. Destroying society by being all open minded and accepting. Curse them!

Maggie May
24/5/2017 08:07:37 pm

Jareth, there is no political divide over mental health, or "change" for that matter.

Perhaps the greatest change of the past 50 years were the reforms of the early 80's Thatcher years that took us from being forced to take the largest IMF loan in history at the time, through to paying it off and becoming one of the most successful economies in the world.

Something the Left are still bitter about and trying to reverse today.

It was also a right wing Government that legalised gay marriage and had the first two female Prime Ministers. In the US it was the Democrats that were the party of the slave owners and the Republicans that abolished slavery.

In my experience mental health issues and depression are equally misunderstood by an equal percentage of people across the political spectrum. Usually just people who it hasn't touched in some way.

I have certainly not seen a generational divide either. Pensioners today saw some of their favourite big name stars lose their lives to it in the 60's and 70's and read about people like Stan Collymore and Marcus Trescothick more recently. Not to mention they saw large numbers of instances of it in their work places. Back 30 odd plus years ago it was referred to as "having a breakdown". It was talked about openly back then. I remember it so. It was also depicted in soaps etc.

It's like PTSD. My deceased Grandfather could have told you about the mental health impacts of war. I remember him telling me about it in the late 80's and how common it was amongst his mates who came home (or rather were sent home) from Northern France in 44. They just didn't have fancy names for it back then.

It is true that treatments were different in the past with many people suffering from depression being locked up, losing their rights and suffering inhumane treatment. That's down to the medical profession of the time. Mental health professionals are the ones that have changed the way they classify and deal with such conditions.

Jareth Smith
25/5/2017 12:27:19 pm

Maggie May - Funny you mention the gay marriage bill rushed through government (i.e. no democratic vote - I'm sure plenty of right wingers would have been eager to shoot that down without a second thought, hence Cameron's need to go through undemocratic means).

Something the right are eternally bitter about is the shift towards progressive values - have a scan online at the hilarious warbling as they bemoan tolerance and understanding and it's pretty easy to see your specious reasoning falling apart. I'm not wasting my time, frankly, on the vacuity hidden amongst your prolixity, but picking out a handful of instances, ignoring actual history to suit your delusional agenda, and making stuff up are all trademark right wing policies.

The result? I wash my hands of you! Have a good one, dear. :o)

John Veness
25/5/2017 12:30:16 pm

Blimey, can we agree not to have politics chat in Digi2000?

sleepydays
24/5/2017 02:04:58 pm

Really, really nice post, Biffo. I'm struggling a little of late and this helped me, for what it's worth.

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RichardM
24/5/2017 02:19:30 pm

I know a wee bit about this stuff, and have to reinforce Biffo's advice above that your GP can refer you to a mental health professional who can help. Also that the Samaratins and Lifeline are there to talk to in a crisis: their numbers are on Google if needed.

It is hard to bare your soul like that, Mr B, but is is enormously helpful to people who are struggling to hear from others who have been in a similar place and survived. Taking one day at a time is a good place to start. Good on you.

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Neil
24/5/2017 02:26:47 pm

Thanks for posting this Biff. The bullet points at the end especially.

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Voodoo76
24/5/2017 03:35:15 pm

I'm not quite sure how to say this but here goes - How good do you think Arms will be on the Switch?

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RG
24/5/2017 04:53:15 pm

Ooh risky. A light hearted bit of sillyness after a serious and poignant (and helpful) bit of soul bearing. This made me smile. And I think Arms will be a joy.

Great piece Mr B!

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Mr Biffo
24/5/2017 08:33:20 pm

Fun but limited.

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Koworld
24/5/2017 05:50:33 pm

Ahh man Paul, so much so familiar. The online treatment you had, I've had that too. As far as I can see, we both ended up as targets because we'd made good things that made people laugh a bit, think a bit and then laugh again. Often with pictures of cocks and balls incorporated in some way. Being impersonated on Twitter got scary as the authors of that account would use details from my life to make it seem like this was me and then rolls tweets on rape and my children together. I still don't understand why people would do that sort of thing?

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Mr Biffo
24/5/2017 08:00:06 pm

Feller - so sorry to hear that. I've got to say, most of my experience since sticking my head above the trenches again, has been almost entirely positive. I dunno if people have grown up or what... or whether others simply got scared off by the threat of arrest, or that it was just a long time ago... but I'm lucky in that Digi2000, at least, has brought me into contact with so many properly lovely people. But yeah, I dare say that there are still many nutters out there.

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Koworld
24/5/2017 09:22:40 pm

We're about to risk a bit of head above parapeting again in the next week. I get the feeling you're right that maybe now there's a chance of getting a two-stretch, bellends are a bit less likely to go beyond calling us cunts on fucking Twitter :)

Mr Biffo
26/5/2017 10:33:37 am

Good luck, sir!

dab88
24/5/2017 06:58:35 pm

I was made redundant recently, then both my parents chose to take their own life and now there is a very real prospect of becoming homeless. Sometimes things are too much and there's very little that can be done about it. Every day I want to stop trying right now

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Mr Biffo
24/5/2017 08:01:28 pm

I'm so sorry. You're right: sometimes things are just a fucking 'mare, and it sounds like you are going through worse than anyone ever needs to deal with. Drop me an email at the Digi address if it'd help to have someone to talk to.

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Wrist Flapper
24/5/2017 08:17:54 pm

I strongly suggest you look at your options regarding housing. I've not been in your situation, so I can't comment from experience, but contacting the local council about emergency housing or doing so through charity Shelter (who'll them be able to offer you more advice) would seem a good first step. Dealing with any of the other stuff will be that much harder without the stability of a place to stay.

If you need to vent, I'm at lord_crumb(putanatsymbolhere)hotmail(putadothere)com. Sometimes it helps.

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Wrist Flapper
24/5/2017 08:20:35 pm

Beaten by the Biffles. Sounds like something you'd have to pay extra for. Either way, the offer is still there. Don't be a stranger if you need a chat.

Kelvin Green link
24/5/2017 08:37:02 pm

Thanks BIffo. I've had a couple of "episodes" in my life and it's always good to see stories from people who have come out the other side.

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Phil
24/5/2017 11:21:23 pm

Thank you, that's a tremendously honest, relatable and, in some ways, inspiring journey. I've recently had to read a lot of mental health materials (for professional reasons only, I've long ago co-opted my own personal demons into a reasonably productive, if factious, mental house sharing agreement), and it's exactly this sort of engaging personal tale that does the most good when encouraging folk to consider their own mental well being. I'm sure the Mental Health Foundation or the people at Time to Change might be interested in your story, if you are happy to share it?

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EvilKeg link
24/5/2017 11:37:20 pm

Hell, yeah. I went through most of my life being mentally ill. Of course, they never DID anything when I was child. I mean, how can a child have mental problems? These are the happiest days of your life, kid. Needless to say, the 1980s weren't much good for that stuff.

I was diagnosed with depression at 23 in 1998, and was put through all kinds of treatment, some more appropriate than others. One time I was even sent to a counsellor who tried to convert me to her religion. I never went back, of course.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with Asperger's at 32. You know how they diagnose you with that as an adult? They give a questionnaire to your parents which asks them what you what you were like as child. Apparently, my mother knew something was "wrong " with me from about 18 months old, but never did anything as she was worried she'd be blamed for it. This was the 1970s, and she was young, I suppose. But she probably could have done more by my teenage years where I was obviously not functioning.

After that diagnosis, I realised my depression was "reactive" rather than the much vaunted "chemical imbalance", It comes from the strain and bafflement of having to interact with the world on about 50% of the social information other people have access to. Of course things are going to go wrong for me. I literally DO NOT UNDERSTAND a lot of what is going on.

But hey, I have a full time job and enough money to indulge my pleasures. At 41, I've learned to work within my limits, due to the consequences have gone outside them. The internet helps me interact with people without the troublesome issues of having to immediately answer and displaying the wrong body language.

It's easier than it was, but I wouldn't class life as easy.

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Starbuck
25/5/2017 12:04:34 am

Everything above this line is incredibly important. (And hopefully anything below)

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Paulvw
25/5/2017 06:40:47 am

Sending a punch on the arm and a hug. Thank you for sharing.

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Rich
25/5/2017 11:04:13 pm

Thank you so much for sharing that, I genuinely know how difficult it is to share something like that, as it echoes quite a few of my own experiences.
Cut a long story short after not addressing some incredibly erratic behaviour through my life it finally got to the point where it stopped merely being entertaining to the people around me and I began to hurt them.
I got an Australian girl pregnant after 3 months of dating. She had to leave because her visa expired. 3 weeks later I get a call saying 'I'm pregnant!!' I knew I had got to try and do the right thing as in no way did I want a little on on the other side of the world that I never got to know.
So 8 weeks later I said my goodbyes and off I went.
Then the list of 'life events' that made me spiral dramatically downhill began
Australian immigration lost my visa application resulting in 28 months where I couldn't work or volunteer
We had to live with her incredibly high maintenance parents for all of this time. Her father an absolute control freak of a man who's control was not only limited to events but controlling people.
Her Mum a lovely lady but incredibly depressed.
Pretty much complete isolation from the outside world, we lived almost rurally and I didn't drive at the time so talking to other people rarely happened.
Completely cut off from family and friends more or less
And then the real kickers, my grandfather died quite unexpectedly who I had probably been the closest in my family too and my Father got diagnosed with vascular dementia, went down hill rapidly and is now in a care home
I started doing things I knew intrinsically were wrong (infidelity being one) but almost just either seemed on a quest to self destruct or attempt to feel anything.
Fortunately I have a WONDERFUL wife who knew that when she married me there was something a little extreme about my behaviour (which didn't help in some ways because that's partly what she loved) but was absolutely 100% willing to overlook my indiscretions on the condition I get help. I immediately agreed, I'm 36 now but truth be told I knew since the age of about 15 I wasn't quite wired in a conventional way!
First shrink, seemed more interested in peering over her glasses and talking about herself.
Second shrink. Amazing. Within a fairly short (by these standards) period of time I'd been diagnosed with bi-polar, a form of autism called PDA and quite oddly narcolepsy.......
I'm nowhere near out of the woods yet. I still mess up, just not as badly as I did! But I'm trying and take every little time I go the opposite direction to the excited little boy inside me (NOT IN THAT WAY) as a victory.
I'm now pretty open about everything that's happened because I think if someone else can recognise their own behaviour patterns in my messed up cacophony of life and get help, then it's a story worth telling.
Cheers for sharing Biffo.

Reply
Starbuck
25/5/2017 11:35:23 pm

Openess is key.

Reply
Mr Biffo
26/5/2017 07:34:36 am

It is indeed about identifying those patterns. Dunno if this'll be helpful - it verges on cringey self-help stuff - but I was given this poem when I was doing my counselling training.

Chapter One
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost…I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep whole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in…it’s a habit…but,
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately,

Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five
I walk down another street.

Mr Mwenda
26/5/2017 07:59:36 am

Thank you for writing this. I've just within the last year and a half begun to acknowledge that I am depressed (although have known it for an awful long time). Your case resonated with me, particularly having a job that one loves - allowing one to throw ones energy into that. In the long-term I feel I've been using that as a way to avoid other issues. It's a slow process but as I now also have a kid I feel matters are coming to a head. Hopefully I can avoid being too much of an arsehole to those I love. Tah again.

Reply
Bryan
26/5/2017 03:18:49 pm

Thanks for sharing your story, Mr Biffo. I've been through it myself and I'm probably always going to be prone to bouts of depression but over the years I've learnt to tell what my triggers are.

It's actually brought a tear to my eye seeing all the people commenting who've also been through similar awful times but it's good to see that we're all here for each other.

I'm not ready to share my story as honestly, talking about it is the worst thing for me, yes, it really does help and i'd advise anyone to do so, but I'm very very careful of who I open to. Guess it's the paranoia part of the illness.

And, Dab88, please go to see Shelter for advice about your home, Citizens Advice could point in direction of some good advice too.

Reply
Mr Biffo
26/5/2017 04:01:56 pm

Thanks, Bryan - and everyone else who commented. I've been lucky in that, as I said in the piece, I don't think I'm prone to depression. I've come out the other side like a reset button was hit and I found myself again. I was never really a "down" sort of person before my life ran away with itself, and I'm not now.

I feel like a survivor more than anything. I'm not without my scars, but it's as if I walked away from a car crash. It was a long time ago that I started putting myself back together, but I still have my moments where I look back and can't quite believe things got so bleak. All I ever needed was stability.

Indeed, it surprised me how much writing this piece affected me (and all the comments from people who've had their own dark times were definitely moving).

It stirred up some stuff, mostly sadness - and a bit of anger - that I lost a big chunk of my life to it, because of the actions of others (and then the feedback loop of my own actions, which certainly affected the lives of people I knew), when it could've all been entirely avoided.

Absurdly, I kept checking with my partner that this was all real, and that this really is my life now. The thought of losing it scares me, but... I can offer hope that if I can get my happiness back on track then you can too.

Something I've realised is that being a good person, or striving to be, is really its own reward. Feeling good about yourself, knowing that you're doing your best and you're treating people as you want to be treated - even when they're being absolute shits to you, or saying stuff about you - does wonders for keeping you happy. Or it does for me anyway. It's not just hippy-drippy, love-everyone, stuff. I can recommend being nice to others as an entirely selfish act...!

Reply
Chris Wyatt
27/5/2017 01:26:30 am

@dab88

At one point, I was worrying about becoming homeless too. I ended up getting stressed at a job I had been at for 5 years, and instead of being given help for my mental health issues, I got put on a 'performance improvement plan', which essentially meant I was about to be sacked.

I had to go to meetings every week which were apparently to 'assess my performance'. I would go the meeting thinking I had a productive week, and that they couldn't possibly have anything to moan about, but then, small things that were not a big deal were blown out of proportion, and they would even raise false allegations; when I would get angry about these false allegations, they would then use my anger against me! Later, through the process, I found that the managers that I had always got along with were now treating me differently. Just because one manager was trying to oust me, all the managers just blindly believed the made up allegations; yet I was just getting on with my work as I'd always done!

I was actually the best developer there (I realise that sounds big-headed, but it's true); I think projects would have fallen apart if I hadn't been stressing about them and clearing up all the mess that other developers had left! No one else seemed to give a shit, so I actually think it was my passion for the job that actually got me fired, ironically. If I had laid low and not kicked up a fuss when projects were falling apart right in front of my eyes, maybe I would still be there.

Then I became unemployed, and because I was unemployed, my housemates started treating me differently. I lived in a houseshare, and around the time I was going through the process of being sacked, a new housemate moved in next to me. He was one of the most vile cunts I've ever been acquainted with. Our rooms were separated by a partition (not a wall), so, naturally, there was a precedent that we would both respect each other in terms of noise, seeing as we could basically hear *everything* from each others boudoirs. My new housemate had no respect for my need for peace and quiet, and he just seemed to constantly eminate noise. He would have parties till the early hours; he was always in; and he was always making loads of noise (not an exaggeration). He never left his mancave (like most new melennials) and he did not give one piddly shit about my mental health. I was basically going mad living next to this guy, and with the employment issues I was also having, I was being pushed way past my threshold.

I was getting really depressed and all my housemates started to gang up on me. I had some of my equipment in the living room (Bluray player, Wii, etc.), and they kept unplugging SCART leads, power plugs etc. just to wind me up. Rather childishly, I ended up getting my own back by setting the TV to hotel mode, and getting the volume level to always default to 100 whenever they turned the TV on! The whole time I was there, they never figured out how to disable hotel mode (thick as shit). Then not long after this fiasco, one of the housemates hid the master key that the agency had forgotten to pick up, and because they had constantly been messing around with my possessions, I was really paranoid about them going in my room! When I raised this issue with the agency, they just seemed to pretend that I was just being annoying and wasting their time, but I couldn't fucking sleep with the thought that any one of those cunts could enter my room! So I had insomnia to deal with on top of all the other shit.

So my housemates drove me out, and because it was 4 against one, there wasn't much I could do, even though I had lived there longer than every one of them, and I had got on just fine with the previous residents (who weren't cunts). The complaints I had sent to the agency were ignored, and they stipulated that they could do nothing about domestics, yet, when my other housemates complained about me, I got evicted!

So, I now had no job, no house, and I was in debt; had it not been for my parents support, I could have quite easily ended up homeless, and because I've always been rather delicate (mental healthwise), I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have handled being homeless, and I'd probably be dead by now! I had a friend who became homeless last year, and he jumped off Clifton Suspension Bridge. Seeing the effects of homelessness has given me more respect for what they have to deal with, because it must be a really shitty situation, and I felt like I got so close to ending up in that same situation: I feel like it could happen to anyone, and that all it takes is as unfortunate set of events.

The other problem with depression is that it is cyclical. Once you start showing symptoms of depression, people treat you differently, and the weird thing is, is that you might not even realise you are depressed. Suddenly, it seems like everyone is out to get you, and you have no idea why? I think, if people had a better understanding of depression and could spot the sympt

Reply
Chris Wyatt
27/5/2017 01:30:11 am

Whoops. Too long. Got truncated:

symptoms early on, maybe they could prevent some of the paranoia that inevitably sinks in.

So I had a year of mostly being jobless, and there was one particular drunken situation that left me depressed for probably half-a-year (that I don't like to talk about), and I had basically lost all my confidence. I eventually got a job, but it took months-and-months-and-months to gain the confidence back, and all the while my new managers were thinking of firing me, because they had noticed how utterly miserable I was. Anyway, I'm sort of back-on-track now, even though in the last month or two I have had issues with hypochondria and had to phone the Samaritans because I was starting to have a panic attack at one point, so I'm not *really* 100%, and always wondering whether some kind of breakdown is imminent, but so far I seem to be managing.

While I've gone a bit off track here, what I mean to say is that I can sort of maybe relate to some of the shit that you might be going through, and while you might think that it's happening to you because you are a bad person, you are almost certaintly not a bad person (even though I have never met you)--and while you might lose your confidence at this point, do not blame yourself. When a lot of crappy things happen at once, the system is not particularly geared to helping you get back on track, and if anything, it might even push you back down and make you feel even more inadequate. Just keep remembering the person that you were before things turned to shit, and remember that you can get back to being that person as well, as miserable as you might feel inbetween.

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