Living with the mentals (or what's #selfcare got to do with it?)

Thoughts from a person whose been at the bottom of the barrel - many times - cos it’s #mentalhealthawarenessweek

It’s #mentalhealthawarenessweek. What could I possibly have to add to the endless advice doing the rounds right now? Much the same: that recovery is possible; it’s also hard work, and man it hurts! It’s not linear (which can hurt some more) and for some of us it’s a life-long journey. The last rock bottom (I’ve had many) was probs one of the greatest things to happen and asking for help one of the boldest and wisest things I ever did. ⁣⁣⁣⁣

On June 1st 2016 (a few weeks shy of seven years ago) I white-knuckled it through a day without drinking. I’d done that before but invariably ended up at an off licence the following day. So this was another first attempt after about 11 years of miserable drinking and I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it again. But I didn’t drink the next day or one after that and I’m still doing that. 

I didn’t do it alone. No one can.

June 1st isn’t a day I celebrate in a massive way cos that just feels weird. Pride is a hard thing for me to digest and I did this putting the booze down thing for myself after all. But I do taken an annual pause to remember how life was and how it now is. It brings to mind the yogic concept of “tapas” which deals with transformation. This is now one of my faves if not the most fave of the philosophical points for me because I just didn’t buy it for a long time. I was used to feeling stuck and believed I was beyond repair.

I’ve since done a giant U-turn; completely changed my mind, and now am a big believer that - with practise - it’s possible for anyone. That’s not to say recovery’s been an easy road for me - it hasn’t. I relapsed more times than I can remember and every one hurt more than the one before serving as a reminder of how much of a big failure I was. If this sounds familiar I’m here to say that absolutely anyone can change and that includes you or someone you love. But you’ve/they’ve really gotta want it. And I didn’t for a long time.

There’s hope, then despair and then hope again because without hope there’s nothing else.

This year as I’ve been travelling around the country teaching yoga classes and talking about my book The Yoga Manifesto I’ve met many people who’ve read it and come to speak to me privately about a loved-one who is still in it. The illnesses of drinking and/or eating til it hurts or not eating enough; all things I’ve done and written about doing and learning to stop doing in chapters 2 and 3. My heart goes out to them because loving someone intent on destroying themselves will make your heart ache. These people are unspoken of heroes. I always wish I could offer some advice having been on the other side. But all I have available is a hug and to say that the only thing I think anyone can do is to love the person suffering because they don’t have a clue how to do that themselves.

Nudging them towards support (i.e. shoving them into a recovery meeting so they can meet others like themselves or into a doctor’s surgery) is worth a try. These things will work for some and others will run a mile. Sometimes it’ll take a few gos to find the thing that clicks. There’s no one-size-fits-all approach and all you can do is try, be prepared for some push-back, arguments and a hellova lot of pain.

People who are hurting themselves to that extent are in so much pain it’s inevitable they’ll end up throwing some of that onto you. I know this because I did it many times and to quite a few lovely people. It’s a thankless task trying to help someone but aside from giving up all you can do is keep trying a and one day they might become become ready and willing to try for a life that’s different. It’s scary territory because you’re asking someone to do something that’ll mean life will never be the same again. It’s a risk. Recovery is an ending but it’s also the best beginning. And God it’s tough work but after several years in the game I also know that it’s the only work that matters.

⁣⁣⁣⁣Course this doesn’t mean my life’s perfect now and I’ll probs spend the rest of my life working on staying “better”. I say this because though I never think about drinking anymore I’m choosing not to go into the old eating disorders and body issues because that part of my life is too painful to delve into. This is because it’s not about being fat or wanting to be thin, or body positive for me - not really. It’s way more nuanced and complex than that. It’s about feeling at odds with your own body, struggling (as crazy as it sounds) to live inside it and trying to understand why.

I wrote about this more in my book and found it easy to do back then. Nowadays it’s harder because truth is things have changed since I wrote about it. I have periods of being on top of things and sailing through and many agonising periods when I’m very much in it. It’s a work-in-process (again) and I’m most def not a finished project. Since a mega disastrous food relapse (after years of being well) in the summer of 2020 when my heart was smashed into a million pieces and life felt like it had burned to the ground in ways I really didn’t see coming I’ve never quite recovered. Or at least not returned to that freedom I had found before.

There’s hope, then despair (will I ever get there again?) and then hope again because without hope there’s nothing else. And when you’ve been in hell and come out of it before you know there’s a chance you can do it again.

We live, we learn, we fall down and we try again. 

Briefly, I’ve said it in my book and on other platforms before but messaging like “its ok not to be ok” and “good vibes only” which is still so rife still grate on me even if I understand the sentiment behind them. In fact these phrases can make me feel pretty rough about life when I’m in a low spell cos I remember what it feels like “not to be ok” EVERY SINGLE DAY. And when it’s like that, life just doesn’t feel worth it. It isn’t worth it and you’d do anything to be okay. And that’s when we MUST ask for help because if we don’t I guarantee many of us will end up wanting to die. And that’s a big emergency zone we want to be steering clear of if we can help it.

So asking for help is where it’s really at. It can be as simple as opening your mouth and telling someone you trust, or a kind person on a helpline THE TRUTH about how you feel. ⁣⁣⁣⁣There might be people who don’t believe you and it’s awful when this happens. If anyone engaging in destructive behaviour (in my case binge-drinking at the time) needs an excuse to keep on doing it - well not being taken seriously is surely it.

I wasn’t deemed sick enough for help so I went back out and did all I knew what to do - a lot more drinking. Some years later I asked for help again. Well, I didn’t really ask. I fell face down in a ditch (aka was crying in a toilet one Christmas) and my heartbroken mum intervened. I got help. I stopped. I relapsed a few months later and then in June 2016 I stopped and here I am almost seven years later still somehow stopped. I didn’t do it alone. No one can.

I figure we spend so much time on our own when in despair, we might as well get better together.⁣⁣⁣ The older I’ve got, the shame of the mental troubles hasn’t quite left, but I also know that shame’s a giant brick wall between staying ill and getting better. ⁣ This week’s about highlighting that you don't have to be alone. It took me years to realise this. But you really don't. And it's important that you're not. ⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣Finally, photos can tell a 1000 truths or a hundred lies. I don’t have many snaps of me from the drinking days. Before and after shots just aren’t my bag. I might have looked okay, sometimes people have even told me I looked lovely, but I know the story behind the story when I see them. I don’t do well with this-time-all-those-years-ago thoughts so my thumb tabs delete pretty sharpish on those pics when I find them. The pics above are of me today having written this. Feeling ordinary, doing alright in the moment and looking like myself I think (or thereabouts). That’ll do.

And finally, FINALLY, to the still suffering: I know it’s hard and life hurts. But you’re not a loser or not worthy or beyond change - all things I’ve thought myself and that people like us have told me about themselves. I won’t lie and say recovery is a bed covered in Egyptian cotton cos getting better hurts like hell but if you give it a good solid go, one day you’ll find that it doesn’t. Then it’ll get better and keep on getting better and easier. Deep breath. Ask for help - when you’re ready. And keep asking until you find it.