A Matter of Mind

Hello, dear readers!

Sometimes it’s not all about me.

I know. It’s a little hard to get your head around, isn’t it? It’s true, though. There are a plethora of things happening in this great big universe of ours that have little to nothing to do with your friendly neighbourhood blogger, and this week, my personal blog will concentrate on just one one of those.

This week it really isn’t about me. It’s about my wife.

Sudden Impact
Those who have had the questionable honour of following these ill-thought-out musings over the years will know at least something of the lady in question. You’ll probably know her name is Tina. You may recollect that she also suffers from the mental illnesses known as anxiety and depression.

Now, as we all know, life is hard at the moment. Covid-19 and the mammoth changes it has caused to the lives of vast swathes of society has been hard on everyone. The need to socially-distance (a contradiction in terms if ever there was one). Relationships and institutions we once took for granted, impacted. Contact minimised. A hug forbidden. All these things and more have caused stress, distress, and anxiety for millions. An effect that can only be amplified by mental illness.

The last few weeks in particular have been tough for Tina. Partly I think this is a cumulative effect as the months of isolation, worry, and uncertainty bore down on her like a stone slab in some Indiana Jones movie. It’s inexorable progresss a growing and undeniable weight threatening to crush her under its weight.

Watch And Learn

It is, perhaps, something I should have been aware of sooner. As I’ve said none of this is new. Tina’s depression is a fact of her life and has been since before we met. Covid -19, well, I don’t think anyone needs reminding of how long Covid’s been with us. So, yeah, I probably should have been on a better lookout.

The last couple of weeks the signs were more than apparent. Bed became a destination of first resort. A place to shut the world away. Small but incendiary disagreements became more frequent. Conversations started to fill with landmines. And perhaps most telling, the world became something to reject, rather than something to seek.

Tina, you see, has a strong support network. She is a member of The Salvation Army whose number is legion (yes; the reference is deliberate). She has close friends who have seen her at both her best and her worst. A loving family, both the one she was born into and the one who she inherited when she married me (us Rankins stick together. Thick and thin), and countless people who will pray with her, listen to her, and offer nothing but love and support. Last, but hopefully not least, she also has a husband who swore to love and support her for better or worse and meant it.

Black Dog Days

The trouble is, when the black dog (our name for Tina’s illness) bites, it stops her from seeing any of that. It causes her to doubt her own value, and because of that to question why anyone would value her. Why anyone would support her. It tells her she is a burden to be borne rather than a gift to be celebrated

So, to cut an increasingly long story a smidge shorter, there we were. Tina was ill. She didn’t want help. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She was becoming more and more isolated. Shrinking down inside herself. The doctors were not to be contacted. People were not to be told. It left me in a bit of a bind.

To clarify, Tina will never receive anything other than my love and support. This was, however, becoming more and more difficult to deliver. A few tears, born of frustration more than anything else, were the catalyst that unlocked this stalemate.

The Best Policy

One constant in the relationship between myself and my wife, is we both have a tendency to look after each other more than we look after ourselves. Depression only adds to this. Tina may not be able to recognise her own value when it strikes, but thankfully she can still see mine. As soon as Tina saw those immensely manly tears, something changed. 

The next day after a hug and a talk, Tina agreed to ring the practice nurse at the local surgery, a man who has mental health training. I listened to the call but felt no need to interject at any point as she was blazingly honest about her symptoms and actually agreed to a short course of antidepressants. Something she’d been actively resisting.

All this was two weeks ago, and I am happier than Mr Happy on a day trip to Happy Valley to report the meds have kicked in and the black dog kicked out (for the most part). There is another phone appointment with the practice nurse, but both Tina and I feel a corner has been turned.

How You Doin'?

I think what matters now is that we use this time of better mental health to seek out more holistic therapies. Coping mechanisms which rely less on the pharmaceutical approach. It won’t be easy, but few things worthwhile are. Luckily there are resources out there, most of which can be accessed through self-referral. 

In these harsh, brittle times I can see these services becoming more and more valuable to more and more people. Covid has led to more and more fragmentation of traditional support networks. More and more isolation. It is vital that as we look after the world’s physical health; we don’t leave its mental health behind. Technology can help us with this, but more important is basic human compassion and consideration. Listening to people and understanding what they need. Being there for them, but realising it will need to be on their terms.

As I said. It’s not all about me.

Until next time…