Mental illness

For me, mental illness was all about anxiety and hiding that perceived weakness away from the world. 

Most people who knew me in my darkest times would have considered me the joker of the group, a playful character with a wicked sense of humour. In a social situation, I would either try to sit quietly in a corner somewhere or take over the situation by "holding court". If god forbid, I was sitting quietly, everyone had to come over and trying and drag me onto the dancefloor, or engage me in conversation, try and pull me into a group to help me "come out of myself". No one seemed to realise that was exactly what they were doing, they were trying to get me to act like the version of me that they liked. No one wanted me to be ME.

Since finding a more effective way of dealing with my issues I have stumbled across the idea of a social battery. It described in beautiful detail the feels that I felt for all those years and to some extent still feel today.

For most people, they finish the working week at a low ebb, drained of energy and motivation, they then revive themselves by going out with friends on a Friday night, singing, dancing, drinking. Or perhaps they spend the weekend relaxing with family. That is how they top up their social battery, those interactions charge it for them. For people like me, after a draining week at work, the last thing we have energy for is a social event. My social battery is already drained, a night in the pub, a day spent with my family at a BBQ or a birthday party is enough to grind me into the ground and completely dismantle the battery.

For me, and those poor sods like me, we want to be left alone. A former boss of mine used to always ask what I had planned for the weekend. If I had something going on she'd seem pleased, sometimes even excited for me. From her perspective, if I was busy I had a good weekend ahead of me. Theatre or cinema visits, going to see family, drinks with the wife and her work colleagues etc. it was all good in her eyes, yet to me, it felt exhausting. I had to build myself up for those events. I had to try and keep something in reserve the week before. What I wanted to see on my calendar was a big empty space. Perhaps popping to the shops if needed, but otherwise staying at home with the wife and my dogs, maybe taking in a Formula 1 race or some football.

We need to remember that the Covid-19 lockdowns, a painful isolating experience for some, have been a refreshing holiday for others. It gave us the type of break we never expected to have in our lifetimes. 

A while back, I started to train as a counsellor. I'd found my own way through some deep dark place in my life and I wanted to help people others do the same. Whilst on the course I found out this is my the majority of people get into the industry.

During the course, I had the chance to perform a counselling session. I won't lie to you, it was a scary thing to do but hey, that's why I was there. I wasn't paid for it of course and I was being scrutinised and assessed which was kinda odd.

When the session ended, I asked a question I wasn't supposed to, I asked, "How was that for you?"

The woman I had spent the last 30 minutes speaking to paused for a moment before saying "I have been in counselling for more than 15 years, and I can say without a doubt that you have given me more to think about, and more guidance, than all of the counsellors I have had in the past combined. That was amazing, thank you."

We had a little back and forth, but to say I was pleased with that feedback would be the understatement of the century. That's all I'd set out to do with this entire enterprise, help someone, and I'd done it. I marked that up as a success.

The following day, I had a review with my assessor. She proceeded to tell me in her very calming counsellors voice, that although the session went well on the surface, I didn't seem to understand what it was for. I was confused, so asked her to be more specific. She went on to tell me that I wasn't there to help, I was there to listen. Just, listen. Don't give advice. Don't try to help. Never give solutions to problems. Just sit, and keep them talking. Allow them to find the solutions to their own problems.

Counsellors are apparently not there to help you, they're just a sounding board. It's like paying £60 an hour to talk to the wall.

I'd spent decades talking to my own wall and not finding solutions, only after stumbling across some good meditation practices, after sitting and reading the Stoics did I begin to build up a philosophy for life. I knew I had information that could help people. I could teach them in a few hours what had taken me years to discover. 

I wrestled with that overnight. I actually meditated on it. The thought occurred to me, "What if schools worked this way?" Imagine if teachers had spent years learning their subject and then sat in a room and asked children to discuss what they thought. No guidance, just letting them bumble along making all the same mistakes they did. What would be the point? How would going to school be better than simply picking up a book and reading? Guidance is the key. Without it, we'd all end up limited to the same level. We've all seen footage of this happening in the animal kingdom, Otters teaching their young how to use a rock to break a shell, or watching a Chimp show her baby how to use a stick to get ants out of the anthill without having to break it open. If I wasn't allowed to help people, what was I doing?

The following morning I sent an email and I left the course.

There are few things in life I hate more than lying. Sure, animal cruelty and genocide might beat it to the top spot if I were making a list, but on a day to day level, I just can't be dealing with it. At that moment counselling felt like a lie.

Counselling, noun: something that provides direction or advice as to a decision or course of action.

That's not what we were offering.

Pretending you were something that you weren't seemed to be contagious. Suffering from depression or anxiety? Pretend you're not. Want to help those who are suffering? Pretend you are!