I wish I could do more to help raise awareness of mental health to people who need it, i.e. people suffering who don't know where to turn. Fundraising is obviously brilliant, and despite not running the London marathon (26 yards is about my limit, not miles), all the fundraising stuff people do for any charity is great stuff. But there will be people out there, especially young people, who never see these fundraising ideas being exercised, or indeed, have any idea where to turn to get help. It may be that their GP doesn't know either, and consequently, they are suffering in silence.
It may be that they don't even know that they have a problem. I say this with experience - as I've mentioned before, I've had anxiety since I was about 11, and for the first six to seven years of this, I considered my intense panic attacks and fear of eating out (and many other things) as simply 'something I have to put up with,' not understanding that it was something I could try and help myself to control. I was too young to know any different.
Gladly, the charity Mind appreciates this and are beginning to act to try and help young people who have mental health problems. I saw on their Facebook feed recently that they were asking people who had experience of a mental health problem up to and including age 25 to talk to them about their experiences and to gauge an idea of the support that they either got or would like to have got. I put myself forward and I have a telephone interview with them this coming Thursday (I'm quite nervous and excited for some reason).
By way of preparation, I've spent a couple of hours today mapping out what I've experienced and what support I needed and received. I developed a table of 'key events' if you like that depicted (1) when I went for counselling, what for and who with, (2) any medication I have taken and when and (3) the key times in my life when anxiety was particularly severe and, if possible, the cause of it. This historic diary was actually very interesting to compile, but also quite sad. It made me realise just how much of my school and University life was blighted and ravaged by anxiety and panic. There have always been peaks and troughs in the severity of my anxiety (and it's also manifested itself in varying forms), and it was nice re-living some of those peaks (or troughs, whichever way you look at it!), but by the end of this exercise I was feeling a bit light-headed.
And it turns out, I could have done with a hell of a lot more support. I was confused and so were my parents, who of course were my main support source. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had a good upbringing; friends, loving parents, money was never an issue, capable if not spectacular academically... so what was wrong? I would wager that this confusion and these questions generated even more anxiety and so the trend continued.
We never had, as far as I remember, any support or education at school about mental health. I appreciate this is difficult, e.g. what age is suitable to talk about it and how. These are issues beyond my understanding. But from my experience, I know that if we'd have had some social lessons on mental health later on in high school, for example, I would have learnt about my issues sooner and got help quicker. I would envisage something along the lines of sex education in terms of delivery and frequency of lessons.
Of course, such a module would probably have to be taught by a professional. Expecting a teacher who had not experienced mental health to teach students about it would be a dangerous business.
Certainly come University, there is real potential to establish campaigns and awareness around mental health; students, on the whole, are an open-minded bunch and I recently read an article in the i newspaper about how many undergraduates experience mental health problems.
Going back to school age, targeting parents would also be a good idea, in my opinion. If, like my parents, they didn't really understand what was 'wrong' with me, perhaps awareness about the subject of mental health would have allowed them to get me the help that I needed at a young age.
However, perhaps to contradict what I've previously said, four of the five counselling spells that I have undertaken in my life (one at 11, one at 19, one at 20, one at 22 and one at 23; I'm now 25), only one of them - the latest - really had any beneficial effect. This was the Anxiety UK referral that I have no doubt mentioned in previous blogs. Again, guidance on getting the right support would have also been a God send, rather than wasting my time (to put it bluntly) on therapy that simply wasn't helpful.
I will be interested to see what Mind come up with from this research. If the result of it means that they are able to provide more and better support to young people who really need it, then great. I will gladly be a part of that. Let's try and reduce the number of young people who have their lives dominated by mental health problems and let them flourish and develop their youth into something that allows them to be successful and happy.
Best wishes
Al
Sunday 31 March 2013
Saturday 23 March 2013
Cat got your tongue?
It's all very well and good me, others, professionals and campaigns saying ''the best thing you can do if you have anxiety is talk about it to somebody else.'' I hasten to add that this is very true, and my experience has taught me that talking openly about anxiety really helps you to manage it. It allows you to feel more comfortable and less pressure with the person who you've told...
...As long as, of course, they take it well.
Telling someone about your anxiety, and getting a bad reaction, could end up being worse in the long run. It could potentially damage friendships and rather than make people feel safer, it could make them more isolated and less likely to tell somebody else. It could even fuel their anxiety. It would be even worse in the short-term if a family member reacted badly to an anxiety problem ("you can choose your friends but not your family") but the chances are they would eventually come round to supporting you. They have to, they are your family after all (although I'm sure there are tragic cases where this hasn't happened).
But friends have no ties to you, when all is said and done. I am lucky that anyone I have told about my anxiety has listened, asked questions and offered support, like a true friend does. At worst they have been ignorant, pretending when we've subsequently met up that 'the night I told them' never happened... but they have still carried on being my friend.
But I've also been selective about who I've told about my anxiety. So far, I've made the right calls, but I'm sure that there are people who have told friends about anxiety, or another mental health problem, and their friendship has never recovered. Whether it's because of mental health stigma, misunderstanding or perhaps a sense of betrayal in the friend - ''why didn't you trust me enough to tell me earlier'' - telling the 'wrong' friend could have the opposite impact to the desired one.
So how do you know who to talk to about anxiety, and how? One thing I've learnt is this: don't plan to tell someone, friend or family member, about your anxiety at a given time. Never invite them over one morning for a coffee or one evening for a beer to specifically talk about it. It piles the pressure on you, and moreover it'll be quite easy for your friend to see through the less-than-well-hidden agenda. They may feel bombarded a little. But as you'll read shortly, this is easier said than done.
Usually, I've found, it 'all comes out' when you don't necessarily expect it. And it often goes before or after your friend tells you about some deep, dark secret... often related to mental health. You end up feeling closer, liberated and supported by your mutual experiences and problems.
This more laid-back approach to telling someone, i.e just 'letting it happen,' is fine after the first time. The pressure is off a bit - you've already told one person and it went well, so thereafter it becomes easier. Although you'd be devastated if the second person you told took it badly, at least you still had the support of the first person you told. And it may even be that they can back you up in telling the second person.
But like anything, the first time is hardest. How do you set up the conducive circumstances to tell someone about something like this without manipulating the time in the sort way I described earlier? The first person I told - beyond my parents who saw what anxiety was doing to me - was, perhaps unimaginatively, my best mate. We went on many holidays together in the past and it was on one of those holidays that we had one of 'those' conversations. I had, in my mind, decided that he had a 'right' to know the full extent of my problems. He had seen snippets, but times of anxiety that I may have inadvertently disclosed to him in the past came at him when he was too young to analyse and take in. He may have just thought I was a bit weird, which is understandable. So I thought, in my mind, I owed him an explanation.
We were about 17 at the time (so eight years ago - wow...), and we basically had one of those nights where we just talked, pretty much non-stop, for hours. This wasn't the first time nor was it the last, but because of our trust and closeness I considered that telling him wasn't going to be an issue. Luckily, it wasn't, and whilst not pretending to fully understand the nature of my condition, he expressed his full support. (NB - I didn't understand the full nature of my condition when I was 17 either, but at the time I obviously didn't know this!)
So in this case, I kind of went down the half and half route - I'd half planned to tell him sometime during that holiday, and half planned to let it just happen. But again, not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who they may feel confident enough to tell quite so openly.
Since then, I've told people in the 'if it happens' way. I've never planned it. And still to this day, there are some people who I wouldn't consider bringing it up with. And yet, here I am writing a public blog about anxiety. It's not quite the same, though, when speaking to a virtual world of people you don't know.
It also seems prejudice to assume that some people you know won't 'understand' or 'be able to take' news of your anxiety. Sometimes people you don't expect are the most comforting.
Telling a partner, of course, adds an entirely different dimension to things, and of course is the most important. Something to explore later in this blog I don't doubt. I'm coming at this from a 'single' kind of angle. The one in which I have most experience...
I realise, having read back, that this blog doesn't really give any answers to the best way of talking to people close to you about your mental health problem, especially for the first time. It wasn't necessarily designed to, but I suppose my message would be twofold; (a) be tactful and (b) don't let one bad reaction put you off from telling somebody else.
It's quite feasible that the mental health charities, in particular Anxiety UK and Mind, have information about this on their websites, so you're probably better looking at them... instead of talking to me!
Best wishes
Al
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Our cat Molly
|
Telling someone about your anxiety, and getting a bad reaction, could end up being worse in the long run. It could potentially damage friendships and rather than make people feel safer, it could make them more isolated and less likely to tell somebody else. It could even fuel their anxiety. It would be even worse in the short-term if a family member reacted badly to an anxiety problem ("you can choose your friends but not your family") but the chances are they would eventually come round to supporting you. They have to, they are your family after all (although I'm sure there are tragic cases where this hasn't happened).
But friends have no ties to you, when all is said and done. I am lucky that anyone I have told about my anxiety has listened, asked questions and offered support, like a true friend does. At worst they have been ignorant, pretending when we've subsequently met up that 'the night I told them' never happened... but they have still carried on being my friend.
But I've also been selective about who I've told about my anxiety. So far, I've made the right calls, but I'm sure that there are people who have told friends about anxiety, or another mental health problem, and their friendship has never recovered. Whether it's because of mental health stigma, misunderstanding or perhaps a sense of betrayal in the friend - ''why didn't you trust me enough to tell me earlier'' - telling the 'wrong' friend could have the opposite impact to the desired one.
So how do you know who to talk to about anxiety, and how? One thing I've learnt is this: don't plan to tell someone, friend or family member, about your anxiety at a given time. Never invite them over one morning for a coffee or one evening for a beer to specifically talk about it. It piles the pressure on you, and moreover it'll be quite easy for your friend to see through the less-than-well-hidden agenda. They may feel bombarded a little. But as you'll read shortly, this is easier said than done.
Usually, I've found, it 'all comes out' when you don't necessarily expect it. And it often goes before or after your friend tells you about some deep, dark secret... often related to mental health. You end up feeling closer, liberated and supported by your mutual experiences and problems.
This more laid-back approach to telling someone, i.e just 'letting it happen,' is fine after the first time. The pressure is off a bit - you've already told one person and it went well, so thereafter it becomes easier. Although you'd be devastated if the second person you told took it badly, at least you still had the support of the first person you told. And it may even be that they can back you up in telling the second person.
But like anything, the first time is hardest. How do you set up the conducive circumstances to tell someone about something like this without manipulating the time in the sort way I described earlier? The first person I told - beyond my parents who saw what anxiety was doing to me - was, perhaps unimaginatively, my best mate. We went on many holidays together in the past and it was on one of those holidays that we had one of 'those' conversations. I had, in my mind, decided that he had a 'right' to know the full extent of my problems. He had seen snippets, but times of anxiety that I may have inadvertently disclosed to him in the past came at him when he was too young to analyse and take in. He may have just thought I was a bit weird, which is understandable. So I thought, in my mind, I owed him an explanation.
We were about 17 at the time (so eight years ago - wow...), and we basically had one of those nights where we just talked, pretty much non-stop, for hours. This wasn't the first time nor was it the last, but because of our trust and closeness I considered that telling him wasn't going to be an issue. Luckily, it wasn't, and whilst not pretending to fully understand the nature of my condition, he expressed his full support. (NB - I didn't understand the full nature of my condition when I was 17 either, but at the time I obviously didn't know this!)
So in this case, I kind of went down the half and half route - I'd half planned to tell him sometime during that holiday, and half planned to let it just happen. But again, not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who they may feel confident enough to tell quite so openly.
Since then, I've told people in the 'if it happens' way. I've never planned it. And still to this day, there are some people who I wouldn't consider bringing it up with. And yet, here I am writing a public blog about anxiety. It's not quite the same, though, when speaking to a virtual world of people you don't know.
It also seems prejudice to assume that some people you know won't 'understand' or 'be able to take' news of your anxiety. Sometimes people you don't expect are the most comforting.
Telling a partner, of course, adds an entirely different dimension to things, and of course is the most important. Something to explore later in this blog I don't doubt. I'm coming at this from a 'single' kind of angle. The one in which I have most experience...
I realise, having read back, that this blog doesn't really give any answers to the best way of talking to people close to you about your mental health problem, especially for the first time. It wasn't necessarily designed to, but I suppose my message would be twofold; (a) be tactful and (b) don't let one bad reaction put you off from telling somebody else.
It's quite feasible that the mental health charities, in particular Anxiety UK and Mind, have information about this on their websites, so you're probably better looking at them... instead of talking to me!
Best wishes
Al
Sunday 3 March 2013
A Flood of Emotion
I mean this all too literally.
As I may have explained at some point during the inception of this blog, my day job involves trying to protect Staffordshire from becoming shafted from the impacts of severe weather, particularly with consideration of the fact that is likely to, and already seems to be, increasing as a consequence of climate change. I know everyone has a view about climate change (even if it's "I don't give a flying freezing fog patch") but regardless of whether you believe in the concept or not, too many people in this country become affected by the impacts of flooding, cold, heat or snow when, quite frankly, the impact is avoidable. Factor in a likely increase, and we risk a future of utter carnage, with the odd duck floating in through your front door and death by over consumption of ice-cream thrown in for good measure.
I work in this field, so I could have a website about this on it's own - so I won't go off into any heated debates here. You'll get used to the "jokes."
There are obvious impacts from extremes of weather, most of which are, on the surface, physical, practical or financial. Let's take flooding as an example (why not? We've had enough of it lately). These impacts could include damage to a building due to water coming in through doors and plugs, logistics and travel being hampered due to flooded infrastructure and the cost all of this could generate by way of recovery. Then of course there are the health implications, such as the spread of vector-borne diseases. Heatwaves and cold conditions, in particular, also have direct health impacts.
But what about the mental health impacts of such events?
The Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) have recently written a couple of reports on 'Climate Change and Social Justice,' which aims to assess what the wider social impacts of climate change could be, and where they are likely to be most prevalent. I'm pleased to say that mental health is covered within this, and from recent conferences I've been to, it is beginning to get noticed on the agenda. The physical health of climate change and severe weather has been known for years, albeit with improvements in this knowledge year on year. Heat causes heatstroke, cold cause hypothermia and wind causes... well, discomfort for everyone around you. But it's not difficult science to know this; indeed, we have a frankly scandalous number of winter deaths per year, especially scandalous as we're not a particularly cold country and we're of high economic development (current situation aside).
The JRF reports go into more detail about this, but let's have a look at the flooding of your home as an example. Here's just a few possible questions you'd need to ask yourself:
How am I going to cope to pay for the damage?
Can I get insured?
Can I get a loan?
What if it happens again? All this will be multiplied. I'm struggling to make ends meet as it is.
Should I just move out; it might be cheaper in the long term. But where to? I don't want to start afresh, I like it here...
How will I support my family?
What if we get a health problem as a result of the polluted water?
All valid questions, but consider the scenario... imagine your mind spiralling out of control. All of these questions would cause greater strain and stress and generate feelings of anxiety. This could mean that your thinking becomes foggied somewhat and you start making rash decisions, wrong decisions, that in turn generate more anxiety. Then the vicious circle begins... and it all becomes duplicated if a second flood was to happen. One can also develop trauma from such an event - something as simple as shock can easily happen, if you've never experienced it before.
And what about those people who already have anxiety or another mental health problem? How do they cope? Such an event could cause incredible strain, and it's something that we need to really look at in light of increasing damage, displacement and disruption from severe weather.
Of course, any external event can generate similar, if not worse, anxieties. Take a house fire for example, or a road traffic accident. But I speak of weather as it is my interest, I know more about it and the impacts from which do appear to be happening more often.
Perhaps one with anxiety could recover better from such an occurrence. Those with a chronic condition will have had some real challenges to deal with, potentially making them tougher, more durable, more able to cope with scenarios like this. It may just be another day to them. I like to think of chronic anxiety as something to strengthen you, despite the weakness one may feel when it's at its worst. So perhaps we will laugh in the face of increasing extreme weather and say to the world's natural phenomena - BRING IT ON!
It was just interesting, and pleasing, that mental health is starting to be factored into big issues, like climate change. I'm sure other such global challenges are starting this factoring process too, or at least I hope so. And for me, it's great that I can look at mental health and climate change together and not, necessarily, get funny looks!
Best wishes
 |
Flooding in Stafford, 2012
|
I work in this field, so I could have a website about this on it's own - so I won't go off into any heated debates here. You'll get used to the "jokes."
There are obvious impacts from extremes of weather, most of which are, on the surface, physical, practical or financial. Let's take flooding as an example (why not? We've had enough of it lately). These impacts could include damage to a building due to water coming in through doors and plugs, logistics and travel being hampered due to flooded infrastructure and the cost all of this could generate by way of recovery. Then of course there are the health implications, such as the spread of vector-borne diseases. Heatwaves and cold conditions, in particular, also have direct health impacts.
But what about the mental health impacts of such events?
The Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) have recently written a couple of reports on 'Climate Change and Social Justice,' which aims to assess what the wider social impacts of climate change could be, and where they are likely to be most prevalent. I'm pleased to say that mental health is covered within this, and from recent conferences I've been to, it is beginning to get noticed on the agenda. The physical health of climate change and severe weather has been known for years, albeit with improvements in this knowledge year on year. Heat causes heatstroke, cold cause hypothermia and wind causes... well, discomfort for everyone around you. But it's not difficult science to know this; indeed, we have a frankly scandalous number of winter deaths per year, especially scandalous as we're not a particularly cold country and we're of high economic development (current situation aside).
The JRF reports go into more detail about this, but let's have a look at the flooding of your home as an example. Here's just a few possible questions you'd need to ask yourself:
How am I going to cope to pay for the damage?
Can I get insured?
Can I get a loan?
What if it happens again? All this will be multiplied. I'm struggling to make ends meet as it is.
Should I just move out; it might be cheaper in the long term. But where to? I don't want to start afresh, I like it here...
How will I support my family?
What if we get a health problem as a result of the polluted water?
All valid questions, but consider the scenario... imagine your mind spiralling out of control. All of these questions would cause greater strain and stress and generate feelings of anxiety. This could mean that your thinking becomes foggied somewhat and you start making rash decisions, wrong decisions, that in turn generate more anxiety. Then the vicious circle begins... and it all becomes duplicated if a second flood was to happen. One can also develop trauma from such an event - something as simple as shock can easily happen, if you've never experienced it before.
And what about those people who already have anxiety or another mental health problem? How do they cope? Such an event could cause incredible strain, and it's something that we need to really look at in light of increasing damage, displacement and disruption from severe weather.
In other words, the anxiety becomes worse than the event itself.
Perhaps one with anxiety could recover better from such an occurrence. Those with a chronic condition will have had some real challenges to deal with, potentially making them tougher, more durable, more able to cope with scenarios like this. It may just be another day to them. I like to think of chronic anxiety as something to strengthen you, despite the weakness one may feel when it's at its worst. So perhaps we will laugh in the face of increasing extreme weather and say to the world's natural phenomena - BRING IT ON!
It was just interesting, and pleasing, that mental health is starting to be factored into big issues, like climate change. I'm sure other such global challenges are starting this factoring process too, or at least I hope so. And for me, it's great that I can look at mental health and climate change together and not, necessarily, get funny looks!
Best wishes
Al
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