Badly Drawn Man

I took a telephone call on a ward of The Maudsley Hospital where I was an inpatient for chronic depression in the spring of 1999 to be told, by a stranger, that I would not see my son again until I proved I was not a risk to him. This stranger happened to be my ex wife's new husband.

Between Aug 1998 and Aug 1999 I was an inpatient at The Maudsley on 4 occasions. This culminated in my receiving what you will know as Electric Shock Treatment, or to give it its proper name, ECT. I was given 12 courses of this in Aug 1999 and this was the last time I spent time at The Maudsley.

Now I will be careful here not to use this blog to attack anyone or use it as some form of revenge. Ignorance toward depression is rife in the UK. It is normal and sadly accepted that people with depression will face and suffer discrimination.

This is because we live in a pig ignorant country where it is perfectly ok to binge drink, cause violence and puke in gutters every weekend and folk think you're hip and cool.

I will, however, use this blog to have my say and put the record straight.

During my 19 years in the "depressive community" I've met all sorts of folk. Maybe the most refreshing aspect of this awful illness is the fact it doesn't discriminate. You can be rich, poor, black, white and suffer depression.

But I've never met a violent depressive. The very nature of depression is that it makes you a very passive person. The energy is simply not present for you to rage against anyone - only yourself. Because you self harm doesn't mean you will harm others. A depressed person is not psychotic.

My depression didn't just arrive. It was a seed planted in me as a young boy. During my 5 years work with John, my (psychotherapist) from 2010 to present, we have investigated the root and cause. This has been achieved using Schema Threapy. I won't go into details. Look it up.

John was able to pinpoint exact events which, as a child, planted this seed in my thought processes and grew as I became an adult. I didn't decide to become depressed. I'm not part of some trend. It grew inside me via life events - things I saw - things that were said to me - an appalling attitude to my education from inept teachers - many many things helped plant this seed.

I've lost many of my quality years to depression. I'm much better these days but I can never take it for granted. I have to manage myself correctly. But I haven't had a bad episode for well over 2 years. Not even a mildly bad one.

I'm angry that this illness was used against me in terms of my being able to see my son. I was eventually given access at an access centre where I shared a room with ex convicts and wife beaters. I've never hurt a fly but as a depressive I was considered to be in the same bracket as the aforementioned scum.

The reason why I can't single out anyone for this attitude to me at the time is because it is an attitude which many still have toward all forms of mental illness. You must be a bad person.

The reality is I left my wife for another woman. This was in no way connected with my state of mind.   I didn't cover myself in glory 20 years ago but I didn't commit a crime. I was unhappy with my entire life and circumstances. But when I say unhappy I mean normal unhappy. Nothing to do with my depression.

I felt controlled and manipulated during my marriage but if I'm to be honest, much of this I allowed to happen. I went with it. I was far too young to have got married. I can link my then "needy" self to my depressive illness but that's about it. And John will tell me that the choices I made back then were driven by my depression even though it had not manifested itself quite yet. But I don't use this as an excuse. All I know is that the days I lived away from London, my married days, are the darkest days I can remember in my life. Darker than being in The Maudsley.

Most of that life is now a mist. I've never been able to hold a relationship down - not in that way. Not in a sexual loving way. I'm a car crash of contradictions when it comes to women. I've a friendship now that money can't buy. You know who you are. It's the most important relationship I've ever had. I'm useless at love in terms of in the bedroom. I'm useless at relationships with anyone.

My work with John has been largely about putting this right. To teach me how to be. How to relate to other humans. I still don't socialise with strangers much. I didn't develop correctly and this was because of the Schema's which dictated my life and grew into full blown chronic depression.

Spend a bit of time with me and these traits come out. I'm socially the most awkward cunt you'll ever meet though I'm a bit better these days.

I have my best friend. My Theatre. My cinema. My books. I like my life now. I like living. I like life.

I hope by writing these blogs that at least one person will read them and relate.

Tim (London, 2015)

Melancholia and Art as Therapy

I've been inspired to write this blog after reading the piece by Mark Lawson concerning the power of heavy 'high end' Theatre used as a tool to help lift the darkest depression. It just so happens that I'm going to see the same play this week - 4 hours of Greek tragedy at The Almeida.

I can concur with this piece. During my deepest moments of Chronic Depression I found myself engaging with a particular type of Cinema. Films with a message and a soul. Most of them come under a term I hate - Art House - World Cinema - my particular passion is French New Wave.

I feel drawn to the images. Most folk go to the cinema to escape reality but I'm a big fan of realist cinema, books, theatre. After all, we're all looking for answers. I just find mine in unlikely places.

I took on a project in 2010 to read novels that I had previously been genuinely terrified of. These books were out of bounds to me at school. I challenged myself and felt a great sense of achievement at the end of that year.

I once feared a certain kind of play at the Theatre. It was an irrational fear which I can now laugh at. I feared I wouldn't understand the piece - but then I discovered that I could come to my own conclusions.

My Pinter Quotes account on Twitter has 28,000 followers. I enjoy Pinter. I enjoy the menace. The complexities. The fact that you leave the Theatre with more questions. It's s gym for the mind.

On the surface it doesn't make sense. It is assumed that a depressive, during a bad episode, can not concentrate. This is not always the case. In fact I've found my ability to engage with the heaviest, deepest art is far more likely when I'm in the pit of melancholia. It can be a book, a piece of Theatre, a film.

From my own personal experience I've found that my mind opens up during a depressive episode. It becomes more concentrated. The images that I'm presented with become clearer and I think it's because this kind of more intelligent art is really reflecting life - realism.

Comedy was the last thing I wanted when I was depressed. I craved the darker art.

There's much research already in to the benefits of performance art for the depressive mind and I'd like to see the NHS look into this more - ok so it would cost a lot to send patients to the Cinema or Theatre but what about the long term benefit and possible savings ?

The NHS has embraced Mindfulness as a genuine treatment for depression and the results have been staggering. I believe there's a connection between Mindfulness and what is awfully known as High End Theatre / Cinema.

Your mind is massaged by great work. You enter a world which doesn't reject you ...it allows you in - it doesn't throw you out. It existed before you were born.

Part of me has always believed that melancholia is a twisted gift. I'll pursue this thought process



Tim - London 2015

Nearly 50.

I've been treated for chronic depression for 20 years now. I've gone almost a year without a serious episode but I can't take that for granted. The black dog tends to bite when you least expect but I'm more confident I can fight it off now that I have the tools.

I've lost some quality years because of it but I'm not at all phased at becoming 50 at Xmas. In fact I see it as an opportunity to kill off two dark decades. I only see John every two months now and I continue to try to embrace mindfulness when I feel the need.

I do have some regrets. The way my depression has dictated my personal relationships. The way I've treated people because of it. It's not something I had any control over at the time but I still regret it or become angry because it has cost me so much in terms of experiences and friendships.

I view life differently now and hopefully I'm a better person to be around. One day I will try and do chronic depression some credit and hopefully be able to help others who suffer. This is difficult because it is such a personal experience.

I have found twitter has helped me. Not in some deluded way. I know the limitations and falseness of social media. It has given me a voice though and many amazing things have come from it. I've always been happy to speak of my depression on twitter despite it being such a public platform. I've experienced mainly positive feedback for being open about it as well as some nasty comments but as in life as on social media.

Once I cared what folk thought of me. Now I don't. I enjoy the banter, good or bad.

Anyway this was just a brief check in to say everything is ok and I continue to fight it and survive it.

I've always appreciated the feedback and I'm always around for anyone out there suffering.


Tim - London - 2014

The Depressive v The Addict..An imbalance in Empathy.

It's been a very interesting week which started with a discussion about men and depression which was recorded and podcast. The reaction to it has been really positive but the problem is the message will soon get lost again. It takes the suicide of a major movie star to get folk talking about an issue that is such a major killer of men in the UK.

Depression is not trendy. It is a dirty word. Addiction is trendy and is not a dirty word. In fact in terms of the celebrity world addiction appears to carry with it much kudos. Obviously addiction is part of a wider issue for the sufferer and the person will almost certainly have an MH problem at the root of their addiction.

Depression just seems so dull and draws a picture of a man or woman with slumped shoulders and a melancholy tune playing constantly in their head. The reaction to someone confessing to depression is normally to tell the person to pull themselves together. The addict will find empathy and folk stating that they have suffered in life and that their addiction is a reaction. The addict finds a queue of people ready to hug them and support them.

The fact is most depressives will have had a life event that set off the depression. Not always. Depression can just be a chemical imbalance. The depressive who has had the perfect life really is the hard done by one. No one deserves depression or asked for it.

There is no pain worse than depression. Physical pain makes sense. Depression doesn't.

People need to get educated. Read up on it. Maybe then the depressive will find the empathy that the addict finds in our rather fucked up society.

Tim 2015 

Not Drowning. Waving.

This month marks 4 years ago since I pitched up in Johns office a rather fucked up person who had been passed through the system and shat out the other side. They got so pissed off with my depression in 1999 that they gave me 12 courses of ECT(electric shocks). But this did get me on the BBC so it's not all bad. I spent most of 1998/99 in The Maudsley Hospital in South London.

Self harm had been a massive issue back then but I didn't think it was a big deal. It was part of my day to day. I've not done anything like self harm for over 7 years now.

So, I eventually ended up with John. I've been lucky in that he has given me 4 years on the NHS. But, in his words, I was, am, a complex case. I should just stick with was because I am a very very different man now to the one who sat in his room in 2010..  I'm still a complex cunt but a more free of    
my demons complex cunt.

I'm happy to go through life as I am. I have a good and loyal friend. I still don't like people very much  and tolerate them and trust no one. But this is not a bad thing. There are many out there you can't trust. So I have that one person I can tell anything to and not face judgement. I didn't have this in 2010.

I've used twitter as an outlet but I'm slowly withdrawing from it. A week of silence last week did me good. I lived inside my head. I couldn't do this in the past.

John and I now see eachother every two weeks and this goes to once a month and so on. The work has been tough. Chronic depression doesn't just go away.  It will never really go away. You have to be taught how to manage it. And I don't quite have it sussed but I'm 80% there and if that's all I end up with then that will do.

Don't be ashamed of depression. Normally the judges are binge drinkers. Drunks. Believe me. They have a bigger problem than us.

If anyone does judge your mental health condition, do as I do. Tell them to fuck off.

Tim 2014

One for the lonely at Xmas...

Xmas is hard for many people. For those of us with depression it can be extra difficult. I've been trying to figure out why this is so. After all it's just one day. The problem is, this one day is built up to for over two months. A relentless barrage of imagery from advertising. These images are likely to make you feel inadequate if you are not part of a huge family who all sit round a table on the 25th. Or they are likely to make you feel excluded because you don't look like one of the beautiful people applying make up or spraying perfume.

Of course these adverts are all just vanity projects of the cunts who make them. There is nothing real within these images. But have you ever seen any Xmas imagery that represents those cast aside by society? Or an advert depicting a person who can't face days like this, so stay at home isolated and away from the overdose of bonhomie.

The only images you will see of this kind will normally involve the Sally Army cuddling some actor who's been paid to act homeless.

There will be a large amount of people out there who can't cope with the 25th of December but they don't get a look in.

Secondly, and personally, I find the need to celebrate Xmas for what seems like endless weeks is quite disturbing and very isolating. You will walk past the packed pubs and look in and see a world you simply don't feel you belong to or can possibly be part of.

But, my friends, most of the above is bullshit. It's not real.  And Xmas is just 24 hours long. It is way past being anything to do with religion. It is now about greed and excess. It's about fucking someone at the staff party. It's about throwing up in public because you can't handle your booze. Do you really wish to be part of this? And yes, many people do have large extended families but the majority don't.

All of the above isolates people like us. The 'sensitive ones'. You are constantly told that it's a time of year for spending with your loved one. What if you don't have one?  The truth is most of the imagery represents a time long lost. Or it's a middle class ideal. I don't recognize any of the images I see leading up to Xmas. They are alien.

I'm a big fan of January 2nd. It signals normality. Whatever that is. But don't go sitting there thinking you have to love Xmas and that if you don't you are somehow fucked up.

I will be 49 on Xmas eve. I've been through much in those 49 years. Xmas makes me extra sensitive. Not because I'm getting older but because it sets me off on a trip down memory lane I'd rather not go on.

I'm not the miserable cunt I come across as on twitter and I'm not the loud mouth either. I'm a quiet reclusive person the vast majority of time. I'm lonely much of the time yes and this is why I wrote this. For the lonely people who may feel even more isolated and cut off from everyone else. Well, you're not. You, like I, just walk differently from those others.

Switch it off. Put your favorite music on. Shut out the imagery. It soon gives over on Xmas day
afternoon to Boxing Day sales and the death of our culture and the death of the morality of the people fucking mad enough to camp out for a sale. They're the unwell ones.

I find much of Xmas morbid. The way people say goodbye to eachother on the last day of work like a death is about to happen. It's melancholic in the extreme and we already know about that via our black dog. Remember, the TV or magazine adverts are made by pigs for pigs.

You will survive.

Tim (London2013)

Xmas and Social-phobia/Isolation.

I spoke of social isolation in my last blog and the weekly work I've done with John to conquer this for the past four years. This time of year challenges what I've taken on board but I fucking dread it. I'm not my best around fake bonhomie at the best of times but December brings it on like an express train of vomit.

The work I do with John is entirely based on my childhood and the schemas that were put in place back then and shape your life. It's a fascinating but scary process. Facing demons is hard but John has shown me that everything I do now, the way I behave, was shaped from about the age of 7.

My Dad died last week. Making this time of year all the more difficult. But that's for another blog. I haven't filtered this properly yet.

I'm not going to be forced into doing Xmas stuff. In the past I felt like I had to go to parties at work or pretend I like being squashed in a pub surrounded by people I don't like very much anyway. I'm selective on whom I like and whom I wish to spend any time with. I operate most of my life solo. I have my close friend and can confide in her.

My big change is that I'm comfortable now to decide I don't like this that and the other. Take away my depression, BDD, social phobia, and I'm quite sure I wouldn't like doing these things anyway. In fact most of the elements listed here don't haunt me as much as they once did. I've told John that I'm not putting myself through hell in a pub or a party just because I HAVE to. I don't have to. I find people who've had a drink repulsive at the best of times. Call it another lesson of childhood well learnt.

I like the things I like. I'm not clever or cultured because I watch French films. I like them because they speak to me. My mind is filled with images. Images invade me. I fall in love at least twice a month. I get crushes that crush me at least once a week. I sometimes skew reality with what I watch on film. Even my poems are for a muse I've never met or seen. I think my single sexless life for 7 years has taken its toll but sometimes the films, the images, the non existent muse, are enough. They are my souls companion. I must sound a right cunt but I'm not. I'm just a tad too honest, not a trait that wins you much kudos these days. I must sound or read like a loser. I'm not. I was dealt a hand that just means I can't cope with things that some others find easy.

When you are a single person, this time of year is extra tough but it's only an illusion. An illusion not helped by TV ads telling you Xmas is a time to be around love ones. Images of the beautiful people handing each other perfume etc. It's all bollocks.

This time of year just highlights social phobia, isolation, awkwardness. If you struggle like me then read this and take it in. You don't have to go to the lousy fucking office party. You don't have to do anything in this life you don't want to do. Instead of feeling like an outcast look at it this way. I don't have to follow sheep. I Make my own life. I'm a one off. I'm an individual. I find my happiness in other ways and not the ways of a society that only appears happy when it's pissed and puking up in a gutter or kissing people it doesn't even know.

This is how I do it.

I am who I am.

Tim, London 2013 

Social Isolation/Twitter and I.

It's very difficult to explain what work I do with John and have done for coming on for four years come January. If you are reading this you will be on the internet. It's called Schema Therapy, a form of deep CBT. Look it up.  They are the root to my chronic depression.

I have two schemas that I scored highest on when assessed. Defective and Social Isolation. I have a deep seared belief that I am defective. BDD if you like. I do believe this. I believe I am ugly and have no relation in looks and physicality to any other man. This has been my belief for as far back as my mind takes me.  John has proved to me that these beliefs were  established in me around the age of 7/8.  My learning difficulty was badly dealt with at School.  I am dyslexic. John diagnosed this when I was 45!!

So social isolation. Sounds straight forward enough. Far from it. I find it almost impossible to do things that most find so easy. The idea of say going in to a pub full of people will keep me awake for days. Going to the supermarket takes days of mental planning.  My life is going to work and coming home the quickest way possible.

People say, 'you live in London, how can you avoid people ?'. Easy ..London makes it easier in that I can get lost in crowds of strangers. It's the up close and personal stuff that I find impossible.

It has cost me much. I am a total social recluse. I can't establish relationships, love, sex, and all the messy stuff. I've been single coming up to a decade. It has cost me just experiencing things.

Some things are not so hard to do now. I can plan to go the Theatre in advance.

Strangely I can sit in a bar in Paris and feel ok. It's as if the language barrier somehow protects me.

I live alone. I have just the one friend who I trust my life with. I live in a darkness that is so hard to put into words. Desolate. Empty. Noisy silence.

I've never written anything for sympathy. I am not looking for it. I write and tweet truths about it just so people may understand a bit more or someone may think it sounds familiar and that they won't have to feel alone.

And that brings me to why I tweet. It's my company. My lover. My mate. My outlet. My pub.
People dig at me for the time I spend tweeting. Because they are perfect. Always strange how they tweet me this info. It's allowed me expression, creation, proper friendship. My shell opened up on it.

I'm an ok person. Not mad. Never been arrested. I work hard for the down trodden in my community.

Twitter is my small entry into a social life. It is mainly safe. I've been tweeting for 4 years. Folk who have followed me that long kind of know me. I've never known anyone for 4 years apart from my parents.

It will sound very melodramatic to those who don't suffer the side dishes of depression but it saved my life to a degree. I know this to be 100%  true.

I started the Pinter acc and it's loved. And despite the big names who follow it
the big joy for me is been a kid says he picked up a play and read it for the first time because of it. That's my being social. I exist most days. So don't judge me.

Tim ...London 2013

Depression...the real last Taboo

You know me by now...you know me by now because you follow me on twitter. I tend to speak off the cuff. I don't shirk the issue. I am a truth teller...well, ok it is my truth. Facing the truth will free you.

Here we are late in 2012 and depression is still a taboo subject. And coming from a man???..shock horror..shoot me now!!

I get a little pissed off with the 'celebrity' depression. They check in to The Priory because they can afford the £500 per nigh fee's. They normally check in after a tabloid has caught them with their nose in the coke bag. Best to say you are having a break down rather than just casually experimenting with Class A drugs. For some reason this kind of 'depression' will win you kudos.

I am not saying for one minute that because you are famous you can't suffer depression. It is an illness that knows no divide. It is just that small number of assholes who can see their career going down the shitter and turn to depression and The Priory to court sympathy.

Bipolar seems trendy with this sort of person at the moment. I have been in hospital with people who suffer bipolar....it is no to be mocked...and I find it astonishing the high level jobs the trendy bipolar celeb has. Presenting TV shows...etc etc....I will leave it there.

Depression kills....depression is something that people would rather not talk about. Well tough...because talking is what is needed.

I have had a good life, up to a point. It could have been worse but it could have been much better. Depression has cost me so much.

I have been in recovery now for 3 years...as you know my therapist is a genius. He pulled me from my gutter. I have to fight it everyday but these days I tend to win.

It has cost be relationships...the reason I am long term single is so that I could deal with this black dog on my shoulder and not bring my gloom on others. So now I am 48 and, well, maybe the 'big love' has passed me by. I will not get depressed about this...(promise...it's a joke)

I shall be doing some blogs in the coming weeks and try and tell my side of what it has taken to beat the darkness.....beat is a bit final....I am beating it...that sounds more active.

I love life...I have my 'own way'. Others would see it has lonely, maybe...but I like what and who I am now.

It took 20 years but ...I would not change it. It has shaped me......odd that really.

T.R London 2012

ATOS ..The Shit That Stinks The Sewer.

I am not someone The Daily Mail can put a label on. Never been a ponce. Paid my Tax. Worked since 16.

A couple of years back I did need the help of the benefits system for a very short period of time, like most normal people will do at some point in their working lives. The majority of us have uncertain jobs. We are not all Civil Servants who appear to believe they are entitled to everything.

Because of my various battles with Depression/BDD I was forced, by one of the best Psychologists in the business, to take time out of work.

I found myself sitting in front of an ATOS health worker. The whole experience was humiliating.

I don't mind someone questioning mine or anyone else's health condition if they hold a qualification within the particular field of expertise in your condition.

I sat in front of someone who had 'Nurse' on their badge. Now I am not trying to be a cunt here but I would not discuss my health to an NHS nurse. A nurse is a nurse. A nurse is NOT a Dr. Is NOT a consultant. Nurses are marvelous but they are not qualified to have opinions on clinical conditions. They are there to serve the condition.

From the moment I walked in the ATOS office I was struck by the coldness of the staff. In their eyes you were guilty as charged with Daily Mail crimes. ATOS employees are bastards.

I had the advantage of not having to worry that their decision on me would ruin me. I would return to work at anytime. Because of this advantage I took on the person who interviewed me.

He had a list of set questions that had no relation to my problems.

I asked him what right he had to question a very experienced 58 year old Psychologist. I asked him what he knew about BDD or Chronic Depression. He had no clue the former existed and he did not know what Chronic meant. I kid you not.

The whole attitude of ATOS staff to me would have made Hitler blush.

They are sub human, these people. No one can possibly love them. How do they sleep at night? Where is their humanity? Where are their ethics if they are nurses/Dr's. Ask any Dr worth his salt and he/she will say they have no clue who ATOS Dr's are or where they came from.

I don't hate them because they cut me off....they didn't. I was successful. I hate them because of what they represent.

There are people out there taking the piss out of the system. Just come round here and check the amount of people with Blue Badge disabled car parking permits. These same people get around perfectly OK. There is a woman on my block who has not worked for 15 years and many of us here could not say why. She has a good life on benefits and yes she should be held to account.

But 99.9% of people who have to go through the system are genuine. They deserve better than an amateur organization like ATOS.

ATOS is a fake company. No one who works for them is a genuine Dr. If they are then the ethical body that looks after Dr's and Nurses should strike them off.

The contempt I have for ATOS knows no bounds. They are the scum of the earth.  As low a form of life that you can find. I include every single one of their employee's in this.

I would rather starve and live homeless than ever let these people dictate my life.

I can only wish the most awful things upon anyone who works for them.  The planned occupations of their offices is, in my eyes, not enough, but it will do for now.

London 2012