PSYCHOSIS

Psychosis: noun. a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.

I think this is a pertinent and yet somewhat incomplete definition of psychosis- at least in my personal case- which only began this year. 

It has never been something I have understood before or, to be honest, taken much interest in. I previously thought that illnesses such as this only happened to other people. I am sorry to say that in my ignorance I linked psychosis with a diatribe of negative associations, such as madness, delusion and insanity. 

While it is true that during my psychotic episodes these terms appositely describe some of the behaviours that I exhibit, they are conjointly and unjustly laden with prejudicial connotations which leave no space for the compassion and understanding needed to help sufferers with recovery. 

Psychosis does not mean that you are a mad, dangerous or volatile person. As with depression, I cannot adequately put into words the actual perception of this abstract mental state, but I can attempt to illustrate a little of its nature. 

Psychosis hits when one has mentally pierced through the ceiling of reality, only to reach the apex of existential angst which feels like a vast, vacuous and unfathomable blankness. When this happened to me I thought that the world was just a computer game and people were players in it, or that I was possessed and living in my own game. In other words, life was like a waking dream.  

Recently, I have found that walking and nature have had a therapeutic effect on my mind, as well as reminding myself of the things in life I am most grateful for. Unfortunately in my case I also need medication to recover-  in some instances, the power of psychosis and depression is far too overwhelming to face alone. It would be like entering a battle with no weapons or armoury- although finding the correct medication has been a struggle in itself with many unpleasant twists and turns along the way. More on that later..

I am happy to say things seem more settled as of late (which means I have had a couple of stable days). Let's hope that the good feelings continue and that my writing is helping others to understand more about mental illness and how to help others in recovery. 

WALKING IS THERAPY

St. Catherine's Hill, Winchester

Winchester Cathedral

THE PROBLEM WITH FOOD

It seems to me symptomatic of the current noxious, damaging and unhealthy societal attitude towards food that, for a large proportion of the population- myself included- what we choose to put in our mouths pervades our thoughts endlessly. Over time, growing up and entering the adult world, I have ever increasingly endowed food with emotional rather than functional qualities, to the point where my chaotic diet and food 'rules' carry the symbolic burden of the atrophic relationship I have with my own body image.

This love-hate relationship that I have with food began in my early teenage years. A trigger in the form of a life event was all it took to act as the catalyst that resulted in years of living in a cycle of feast and famine. This also included categorising foods into groups that are virtuous and sinful, reproaching myself for food 'crimes', a lot of emotional (not to mention physical) pain, and lamentation of all the lost time that I could instead have used to make friends and be out laughing and living life.

Food should be about enjoyment, energy and nutrition. Instead it is often about control, shame and self-esteem. I have noticed a general dichotomy of attraction and repulsion towards food within our society- I expect many of you will have experienced this for yourselves. Ultimately this results in a state where we become detached and desensitised from the instinctive and nutritional health needs of our own bodies, replaced by fluctuating and emotionally driven eating habits that only further reinforce the antagonism we feel towards food and our physical appearance.

One of my next blog posts is going to feature the terrifying illness which is bulimia. Although anorexia is also a topic of unease that I will cover, nevertheless it attracts a lot of media coverage- spurred on by the pernicious gossip magazines that seem horribly engrossed and fascinated with the amount of fat on the bodies of female 'celebs'. The effects of anorexia are also quite perceptible, as the body suffers from drastic weight loss and the mind becomes drained of energy for speech.

Bulimia on the other hand has always felt to me more of a taboo topic as it involves repeated and compulsive episodes of traumatic physical sickness, which are in themselves quite upsetting and usually remain hidden and out of sight. I don't think anyone walking down the street would be able to detect that I have had bulimia at any stage in my life. It gains its addictive powers by being an insidious and secretive disease of the mind.

However, there is hope out there for sufferers and I hope by talking about it others will not feel so alone. 

WHAT DEPRESSION FEEL LIKE

It is quite normal but most unfortunate that without personal experience of depression it can be troublesome to understand. Some people even consider it a bit self-indulgent or a lifestyle choice- of course, it is anything but. 

So I thought I would try and describe, to the best of my abilities, what depression feels like. Depression is ultimately ineffable: there is no language or diction that can accurately pin down this most terrible of mental states, but nonetheless I will have a go. 

When severe depression hits it is like a viral infection that takes over your whole body. It becomes debilitating because your limbs become dead weights and your mind is overcast with oppressive thoughts. It really does take over your entire being and reduces you to the feeling of abject worthlessness, sucking out all meaning from your life and feeding on it. Having depression gives the impression that there is something dark and arcane lurking within you, revolving around the perimeters of your brain, just out of reach of your conscious mind so that you cannot control it. 

Sometimes, when the pain is so intense that it becomes unbearable, it feels as though your mind is being tortured. When I hit my low points I found that I could not even bear my thoughts no matter what they were- not because of their harsh and hopeless nature, but because they signalled my existence at a time where I did not want to be alive. Sadly, just breathing gave me a sense of anguish. 

These feelings that depression induce are so harrowing and excruciating- and the depressive part of your brain wants you to believe that change is not possible, that it will be like this forever. However, it is good to know that moods are a bit like the weather, and nothing can linger for too long without some form of change. And even if it is just an iota of difference, it can be enough to keep you going.  

Where there is life, there is hope! Depression is a canny beast, but it can be beaten.

NATURE: MY PANACEA

I find that spending time in the physical world around me- creating moments that grant stunning views such as this- anodyne some of life's worries. 

THE BEGINNING: WHERE I'M AT

I thought I would start by stating the truth, which is that I really resent the state that I'm in. I am all too aware of all the labels, the associations and history of mental illness and the pain and shame of it all. I am not crazy, but I think and act in strange, often extreme and aberrant ways that don't always even make sense to myself. This is not a sudden onset of mental disorderliness that has emerged unprecedented. My mind has been rewired over the years so that old treacherous pathways have become worn and wider- deceptively enticing to walk down- whilst the other side of my brain that enables me to get on with life and function socially has grown into a dense, unexplored and seemingly impenetrable wilderness. 

All this means is that I don't think in quite the same way as other people. Although there are many others like me out there, sometimes it feels like I am the only person in the whole world going through this. And by 'this' I am talking about the complete spectrum of mental health and well-being, beginning with my diagnosis of clinical depression during my formative teenage years, since which my life has consisted of all possible modes of persistent and belligerent self-destruction.

 It is much too cumbersome a task for me to describe to you everything that has happened in all its gloriously drab and dingy details. So, firstly, to simplify, shall we begin with a list?

These diagnostic names all have associated labels and stigmatised ideas attached to them but I must stress that writing or hearing about them is one thing and experiencing them is quite another entirely. My personal experience has included anorexia, bulimia, self-harm, depression, compulsive overeating, body dysmorphia, OCD and psychosis. And wow, what an irksome and rotten old list that is. I wish I could make it all dissipate or archive it inside my brain with a warning notice saying 'DO NOT OPEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.'

Now, I also want to make sure that by writing this blog I don't come across as a victim or self-pitying. I don't displace blame on to others for the way I am. It's really just one sour cocktail of genetics mixed with environmental and social factors. I try to be self-accepting in spite of myself, as, for some reason, although I find having compassion for others quite easy, being nice to myself seems to go against all my natural instincts and inclinations. 

Since December 2013 my mental health has experienced a new and most unwelcome drenching in some horrible issues. It feels as though I am walking around some sort of atramental abyss looking for a sign of light or a tunnel to give me some direction or sense of hope.  This descent all began with a trigger whereby my own heightened self-consciousness and critical voice started to obsess about a particular aspect about my appearance, which soon enlarged to gargantuan proportions to the point where I did not want to be alive if this 'defect' in my appearance could not change. My mind went into a broken shut-down mode- a state that words alone cannot  express or give justice to. I do not intend this to sound supercilious or condescending but there really is no way of transposing mental illness into a form of logical understanding. 

Perhaps it is like trying to explain the immense pain of a broken arm or leg to someone who has only ever been bruised and never broken a bone in their body. And, to continue with this little analogy, like broken bones where there is a near infinite spectrum of minor and perilous injuries one can experience (from a broken finger to a broken back), mental health similarly exists on a panoramic and sepulchral spectrum of ailments. Each person will have their own subjective and unique experience of mental well-being, and in my personal case I feel as though I am on a constantly swinging pendulum of extreme highs and lows, always searching for some middle ground to grasp hold of and land on.

Anyway, that is enough for today. I hope that this first post has given you a little understanding of the complications and complexities of mental health and I have not yet lulled you into a state of depression yourself by reading what I have to say..!