Following a long-haul turbulence of depression/anxiety, starting University was the catalyst in gingerly waving the white flag and seeking help. I heard somewhere it’s sensible to address your issues.
Let’s outline this bit: Appointment with the GP, promptly prescribed a hefty dose of SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors), huge sense of relief.
Things were going to change around here; I would reach my potential and be fixed. Normal. “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen would play on loop in my head while I shimmied forth tearing down obstacles and basking in the glory of my many achievements. Of course, this would come after the initial week of yawning like the MGM lion and grinding my teeth/perspiring like a 90s free party attendee.
I garnered the hindsight (within the space of about 6 months) that I’d traded responsibility of my own wellbeing and ambition for apathy and lethargy. Taking comfort in a safety blanket that slowly smothered my spirit and veiled my personality. The Queen fantasy would not be coming to fruition.
It took complete self-diagnosed, rock-bottom “failure” (following two blurry years of, well, blurriness) to have the confidence to take back the reigns of a frankly very poorly-behaved horse. Ready for revolution as I was, anti-depressants, and indeed what they are designed to treat, are not a Bastille to overthrow, instead more a methodical Prison Break. We cannot use physical weapons where what is required is the use of our greatest tool: the mind.
Perhaps I should interject my own monologue at this point to add that these medications are perfectly successful for some and that my angle is based purely on individual experience. However, the point I am trying to make is that they are not a universal wonder-drug and that other approaches should be considered before potentially risking our wellbeing further. If a problem is complex, the harsh reality is that it cannot always be solved with a quick fix.
Trying to simply knock my particular SSRI on the head can result in the aforementioned symptoms with an added peppering of nausea and psychosis similar to a junkie eschewing their particular poison. Based on this, I made the resolution to gradually replace the drugs with true self-improvement strategies. Get well. Organically. Sustainably.
So here’s where the tools come in.
Step One was attending group Mood Management sessions, based on Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). Although at first unnerving, it soon became an extremely comforting notion that while we cannot always control our surroundings we can control our reactions and patterns of behaviour. The ‘Vicious Flower’ model is an element I found particularly poignant- something as simple as breaking down thoughts, emotions, behaviours and symptoms can demonstrate that they are, in fact, just that.
Not to mention, I have a flower name and am sick to the back teeth of vicious cycles.
We are encouraged to focus on the present. Personally, I cannot think of anything more positive than to practise self-forgiveness and relinquish guilt and blame. Eschew it like the ex-junkie for the good of your health.
So, as I inquisitively leaf through a “Meditation for Beginners” book (a gift from a, let’s not use the word “failed”, previous relationship) and arrange my first Mindfulness appointment it is very clear to me I am no connoisseur in this field. However, I will venture to say that it’s bizarre to think that things have to get so seemingly hopeless for many of us before we utilise these methods of self-improvement and exercise a little faith in our own ability to battle on. Just a simple change in attitude, for me, has kick-started what I feel will be a positive chain of events. Consider me a convert.
I’m one of those kids on the X-Factor and writing this, my audition, marks the start of my “journey”. The exception this time is that we can hold the sob stories.
Written by Daisy
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