Mental health isn’t a modern phenomenon. It has always been there.
Consider how you react to a certain situation and then imagine being in someone else’s position.
People are quick to point out there are others worse off than you, but you already know that. You know there are plenty who are better off too.
You conclude it makes no difference to your state of mind, but it can and does.
So how do you react? Sink into a state of bitterness and jealousy? I’ve done that.
Fight back and attempt to gain your rightful place in the world? I’ve tried that, but then, what is your rightful place and what if you fail to reach it?
Give in and accept your lot? Been there too and regretted it.
I can safely say I have tried it all. I’ve genuinely but perhaps patronisingly, thought about those involved in war and heartbreak and marvelled at their resilience while my world has collapsed at the slightest irritation, yet I also know I have remained strong in the face of tragedy.
There’s online tuition, there’s counselling and medication, but the only real solution is talking about it.
Decades ago I didn’t do that and it all nearly ended – twice – but for some reason I was spared. Three years ago I was heading the same way, but someone recognised it, stepped in, asked me and I talked. A lot. Then I told others.
It’s not a brave step to take but it’s a hard one.
Almost accidentally, or at least naturally, mental health became a theme of my novel The Choreography of Ghosts and its central characters Michael Morrison and Marianna Bianchi. One talks, the other doesn’t. One survives, the other doesn’t.
People have said the Morrison is based on myself. He’s not, though there’s plenty of me in there, and I guess that’s the case with a lot of writing. I removed a large chunk of the real downbeat stuff, but the writing of it improved my state of mind.
And there’s a cat in there in tribute to my lovely Belle and Sebastian who died while I was writing the book.
Three weeks ago Nibble and Thimble (pictured) arrived in my life and they certainly help concentrate the mind.
You could read The Choreography of Ghosts (it’s available on Amazon and from The Maker’s Emporium in Rotherham), you could write yourself (it’s cathartic but not the quickest way of expressing your feelings), or you could talk about your own problems. Maybe even rescue a cat or two (other animals are available).
If you don’t feel up to talking with those close to you, maybe look for an organisation where people meet regularly and confidentially to discuss their feelings. There are plenty about these days.
Whatever you do, don’t stay quiet.