Magnolia
Four years ago today, I had a nervous breakdown. This is the story of what I learned during my journey from 27th March 2007, which I spent crying uncontrollably in a bus stop, to the launch of Love It Love It Love It three years later.
This post isn’t going to be all about how awful it all was, which it was, for a long time. It’s just a simple list of the things that helped me to recover. You never know, they may help someone in a similar position, or give them hope. That would be truly wonderful.
Look for the joy.
This small tip, which was absolutely central to my recovery was supplied by the eternally wonderful Carolyn. Her extremely pertinent point is that beautiful, pleasing things are all around you, but they are sometimes so small or transient that we miss them. Many of them involve using your senses to feel what’s going on in the world around you. Someone’s smile, the feel of a cool pillowcase against your face, the smell of coffee brewing – actively look for them, grab them, and your life is instantly enriched.
Despite my world being oppressively grey at the time, the real world was just sparking in to life. I decided to go and take some pictures of the blossom that was coming out. There was no tangible reason why, I just wanted to – especially of the gorgeous magnolia tree down our street, which was bursting with delicate beauty. It was the first thing I had done in ages that I did simply because I wanted to, rather than because it needed to be done or someone else wanted me to do it. The pictures in this post are some I took that day. They’re not brilliant, but they mean a lot to me. It was the first positive step towards getting better.
Don’t ignore the signs.
My breakdown had been a long time coming, building up over many years, but things had been getting much worse for the past few months. I’d been grimly hanging on, putting one foot in front of the other. It was a real shock to me to be diagnosed with anxiety and depression, and had I paid any attention to the changes in my own behaviour, thought patterns or emotions, it may have been possible to prevent my illness reaching the stage it did. Life is not a miserable slog, and if that’s how it feels to you, then perhaps you need to honestly evaluate whether that’s a rational reaction to a shitty set of current circumstances or if your mind is playing nasty tricks on you.
Perfectionism is a curse. Give it up.
Four years ago I was trying to be a perfect mother and wife, perfect in my career and to create the perfect home from a recently purchased tip. It’s not possible to do any of them perfectly, never mind all four at once, especially as perfection in one of those areas is directly incompatible with perfection in the others. To a perfectionist, any failure, whether real or imagined, and no matter how slight, is like a dagger through the heart. Whilst it may be possible to live like that whilst life is relatively straightforward, as our lives get more complicated with age, it becomes completely untenable. Learning that ‘good enough’ really is good enough may be one of life’s hardest lessons to learn, but it’s also one of the most valuable.
Have faith in people, especially those you love.
When I broke down, my overwhelming feeling was a sense of failure, of intense shame at crumbling. Unless it was absolutely unavoidable, I couldn’t admit to anyone what had happened. The only people who knew were my husband, the HR contact at work and a few select online friends who I didn’t need to look in the eye. To everyone else I simply pretended everything was normal to avoid having to admit my weakness. Each day, I’d get dressed in work clothes to pick Evie up from nursery or my mum’s house. I avoided friends and any questions they might ask. At the time this seemed like a sensible tactic to protect myself from the terrible things they’d think and say about me. With hindsight, it was a grave mistake. Now I’m better, I still find it difficult to admit that I suffer from mental health problems, (consider this a coming out of the loony closet post!) but without exception, everyone who has found out has reacted brilliantly. They’ve been sensitive, helpful and loving. You might not love yourself, but whether you believe or not, plenty of other people do, and they want to help. Please let them. Be honest with them and you’ll be very pleasantly surprised, which in turn helps you recover.
Be as nice to yourself as you are to everyone else.
Erm, pretty much as it says. Slow down, stop beating yourself up. Imagine how much easier life would be if you were as kind and forgiving to yourself as you are to everyone else. If you let yourself have time off when you needed it. If you could turn a blind eye to the clutter in your house they same way you don’t even notice it in your friend’s house. To be honest, although I know this point intellectually, I doubt it’s something I’ll ever be capable of.
Seek professional help.
If this post makes it seem like I just thought pretty thoughts and magically got better, that’s rubbish. It took several years, a shedload of various pharmaceuticals, a whole coterie of fantastic medical professionals and the unstinting support of my amazing husband. It will continue to do so forever, perhaps. If the joy has all but left your life, then have a word with your GP, Health Visitor or Midwife. They’ve seen it before, they’ll see it again. They won’t judge you or palm you off, they’ll help. Let them, and act on what they say.
Get rid of the stuff that will stop you getting better.
This is so very much easier said than done, but it’s worth trying every possible alternative and doing anything you can to get rid of whatever is exacerbating your problem. My career, and the devastating effect that motherhood had on it, played a big role in my breakdown. To begin with, ‘recovery’ meant being well enough to get back to work. Six months and one failed return to work later, the idea of ever going back to my old job still terrified me. (If you want a very flowery version of the full gory story, or at least one about a woman called Claire that’s very definitely not me, it’s here and here) My GP and Psychiatrist both gently suggested that that point was never going to come, and it was time to move on. That was a shock. What to? Who would employ a woman with a mental health problem and 1 and a half kids? As far as I was concerned, no one would, but we couldn’t survive without my income. That was the first time that the idea of working for myself had ever occurred to me, but it seemed to be the only way I could ever earn a living again.
Remembering the day I photographed the blossom, the idea of doing something with colour really appealed to me. It took another 18 months, lots of research, sleepless nights, stress and planning before that first thought became an actual business, but I got there, and have never been happier or prouder of myself. However, none of it would ever have happened without that awful breakdown and that beautiful magnolia, which will bloom again any day now, reminding me how far I’ve come.
Keep looking for the joy.
Love Ruth x
3 September 2011
Oh Ruth, why were you worried about this post? It is both inspiring and uplifting. I am so glad that you are where you are now. LesleyAlmost x”
3 September 2011
Beautiful post ! I can relate to a lot of it. I am so glad that you have come out trumps. Wish you all the very best for a fabulous and a happy future. Ipshita xx”
3 September 2011
Good going buddy x
3 September 2011
I was truly inspired by your blog. Thankyou for sharing your experience. Xx
3 September 2011
Well done you for learning the lessons and getting better x. I went through something very similar…the breakdown, the anxiety and depression, the psychiatrists, overcoming perfectionism, never returning to my career and becoming self employed, and ‘touching the joy’…a long tough road but so worth it to have learned the lessons and moved forward. From one survivor to another, I salute you x
3 September 2011
I’m struggling to do all the things you mention at the moment. Thank you for writing this.
3 September 2011
Thanks so much for your comments. Best of luck to you on your journeys. x
3 September 2011
What a beautifully up lifiting post. I love to watch my 2 yr old daughter take pleasure in “the moment” and think that that is ultimately what real happiness is. Just as you said; stopping, doing nothing else but enjoying the moment! I hope your magnolia friend springs into action soon!! x”
3 September 2011
Thank you for this post, you’ve given me hope when I thought there was none!
3 September 2011
A thought-provoking & inspiring post. I very much admire that ultimately you’ve turned an awful time in your life into a positive opportunity (and brought colourful brightness to many others’ lives to boot). I actually read “Claire’s” story in Grazia when it was published & felt pretty outraged on her behalf. It makes me want to march into The Firm’s offices and give them the sharp end of my tongue (as my Gran would say). Thank you for sharing your recovery tips too – good everyday principles for us all to bear in mind I think. Hxx”
3 September 2011
You brave, wonderful, darling. That resonated so much, in so many ways. Kia kaha, aroha nui.
3 September 2011
Such a moving and beautiful post. Well done, you. xx
3 September 2011
Ruth, I had no idea. You are one of the funniest birds I know. I’m so sorry to hear that you have been through this
I’m pleased to hear that you’re on the mend though. I can only imagine how you must have felt & still do feel at times, but I can empathise with your ‘appreciate the small things’ approach. This is good advice whether you suffer with depression or not. We all need to take a step back at times & appreciate the world around us & where we fit into it all. Funnily enough, one of the reasons I love this time of year is the short time the Magnolia is in bloom. I love it. I think I’ll be reminded of this post (& you) when I look at the tree in our garden now. X
3 September 2011
What an inspirational post. I have been where you were, I almost lost everything dear to me through my depression and attempted suicide. Depression is hard, but with the right treatment you can get better. I have learned that I may not always be depressed, but it does tend to be a travelling companion and I am do positive things to make sure it is always in the passenger seat.
3 September 2011
Meant to comment on this earlier in the week – you’re very inspirational. As you know, I already think you’re unbelievably funny, but I now admire your honesty and bravery and also the fact that you’re not remotely pretentious and trying to make out that you’re superwoman. Someone else will read this and feel like they can breathe out. Kudos my Tyra loving friend (((hugs)))
3 September 2011
Thanks so much for all your comments, they’ve really touched me and mean a lot. Lots of love too, to the surprising number of people who’ve said here and elsewhere that they have been through the same, or are currently experiencing it. xxx
3 September 2011
Thanks for putting this down in words. Struggling with PND & have been for almost 2 years now. Trying to be the perfect wife, mother & full time childcarer ended up with me taking a tearful trip to the HV to admit to her that I needed help – that had to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. 2 years down the line, still have a couple of bad days a week, but getting there. Like you, I’ve started my own business which has helped hugely – finally I’ve been doing something for myself & my own enjoyment. Going to keep coming back and reading this post whenever I need a boost – thankyou again
7 September 2011
I’m coming to this late, lovely girl, but it’s such a brave and insightful explanation and I know a little of how long a journey for you this post captures. I’m so very glad that you’ve found your joy, and reading this at the same time as the post about Liv on a bus shows just how much better a place your life is now. And I’ve never been described as “select” before! Love you. x