Outside vs Inside - The Ultimate Battle

Okay, so there are many campaigns circulating now based around mental health, and it’s about time, but words on a screen aren’t always a great comfort when you’re suffering.

I’ve struggled for a few years now, had various appointments, been placed on meds and had the messages from friends and relatives offering help. I went to a dark place in my head, battled invisible demons and became awful to be around for other people. With some support (from both people and medication) I started to improve; I was able to go out, smile, laugh, be the centre of attention: and that’s where the issue seemed to lie.

People seemed to forget, not on purpose obviously, that I was still in this constant battle inside my own head. Once it became a regular occurrence for me to be out, playing darts, cracking jokes, making future plans; it suddenly left everybody else’s thoughts that I’d ever had any issues at all, I was completely “normal.”

Over the past few months, I’ve had a couple of minor episodes where I’ve not completely been myself, but nothing too serious, just a day off work, or cancelling plans last minute, looking for reasons not to go out. It didn’t seem all that troubling, however, it’s now clear that something more was building. I was struggling a lot more than anyone could have guessed, and as I didn’t reach out, nobody ever would have guessed.

Then, recently, things took a turn. I didn’t want to get up in the morning, saw no point in getting dressed, having a shower or eating. I didn’t tell anyone though. I just carried on, letting people get frustrated with me because I couldn’t remember details of any conversations, didn’t want to change a routine; letting my work life suffer because basic tasks had become mountains I had to climb. I needed help, I needed someone to tell me everything was okay, that I wasn’t suffering through any fault of my own. Yet, I couldn’t have that initial conversation, and I began to deteriorate even more.

It was one morning when I hit my lowest. I physically couldn’t get myself out of bed, I saw no need to do so; I didn’t want to be here anymore, so why pretend to other people that I did? I spent the day ignoring phone calls and messages, contemplating thoughts that I couldn’t shake, battling my own mind, being told by myself how worthless I was by my own being. I saw no way out.

I knew some friends were meeting up; I had already decided not to go, saw no joy in spending time with other people, knowing I’d spend the entire time thinking of ways to leave. Then I made a decision; the hardest decision. I went to meet them, to say goodbye. Not vocally, not even in any way that gave a clue. I just spent the evening pretending that everything was fine, as it always had been...

I got home, sat in the dark, and prepared myself to come to terms with the decision I’d made; this was the turning point. Why did I need to come to terms with it? There was obviously something at the back of my mind that was on my side. I still wanted it, but I also didn’t. I battled with myself, argued with myself, there was something happening inside me that I wasn’t really in control of. So I reached out.

You send a text, you get a reply. It’s simple enough really. I found a small comfort in it, at first, someone inside my phone prepared to listen. I envisaged a friendly voice, reaching out to me, wanting to help. However, it didn’t feel enough. I was talking to a stranger, probably one with about 4 different conversations happening at once, just going through the motions, probably using templates to reply to each thread. I needed something different, something more, something real. So I did something that most people would find foolish, even attention seeking. I posted on social media.

There’s a lot to be said surrounding this sort of thing, mainly that it’s just attention seeking rubbish, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe I was attention seeking. Not in the sense that I wanted to get the most likes (this wasn’t my version of a half naked selfie) but a way for me to talk, without literally talking.

Now I had friends reaching out to me, family members using every means of communication to make sure I was okay, sending multiple messages if I didn’t reply straight away. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. I mattered to these people; they wanted me around, wanted me alive. I spent most of the night talking to people, not always about anything in particular, just talking, shifting my focus from my own mind, taking a break from battle.

In the morning, my mum did something she rarely does, she came and sat down and let me speak about what I was going through. I knew she wanted to do this for months (she has an amazing sixth sense when it comes to me) but didn’t know how to initiate a conversation. I’d finally given her a way in, she could speak to me because I had already reached out for help. We chatted for a while, it felt nice, it felt like a weight had lifted.

I went out later in the week, just to see how I got on, see if I was ready for company again. It was unsettling for the most part, but I wasn’t totally uncomfortable. Mum decided to come with me to work on the Saturday; I wasn’t sure at first, but it did me so much good, having a support network with me throughout the day. We finished early enough to be able to go home and just watch films for a few hours; probably the best Saturday I’ve had in years.

A friend from university came to visit on Sunday, we watched some football, had some food, went to my friends house where a group gathered to watch the Super Bowl, and I honestly didn’t think about anything other than what has happening in front of me. Three of us met up on the Monday, nothing special, no occasion, just met up. Monday night I actually felt happy, at least, I think that’s what happiness feels like.

Then, on Tuesday, I woke up feeling okay, not down, not up, just somewhere in between. Then I dropped again, without warning, without a trigger. I had managed to escape for a short while, surrounded by people, engaged in meaningless activities, but it was all temporary.

I can’t say for sure how my particular story is going to pan out, none of us can. I can say this, though; at my darkest, most desperate point, I found solace in the simplest places, the simplest activities. My battle continues, but I’ve acquired allies.