I like metaphors and analogies, but none quite seem to capture things the way I’d like when it comes to talking about my brain. I’ve been a little slow around here with updates to the site and these updates through Substack, which I still want to use better. Without beating around the bush too much, it’s basically due to a little bout of Depression, which seems to have decided to make itself at home in my head without invitation.
Those of you who’ve known me for a little while might already be aware that I’ve suffered from depression on and off throughout my life. Not because I won’t shut up about it, but more because I’m quite open to talking about it if and when it comes up in conversation. Mental health is a really tricky thing to talk about eloquently. It’s really difficult to explain to people who don’t suffer from things, and when you talk to someone who does, it doesn’t always manifest the same way for them.
I’ve had some really nasty bouts over the last twenty years or so, since I first had depression properly diagnosed. These days it’s not as bad, but that’s mostly down to self-awareness. I can feel it coming on nowadays, I can recognise the symptoms, and I can take steps to mitigate them. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have an impact on me, because it does, hence this update.
Explaining the inexplicable
I know some people like to use the Spoon Theory to describe mental health issues, but it doesn’t quite work for me. It’s a useful thing to know about, however, especially if you know someone who does have issues, so it’s worth reading about. For me, it’s not just a case of not having enough capacity or energy to do everything I’d like to. When I have a visit from the Black Dog, it saps the joy from everything. I’m not just talking about really happy events either, I mean literally everything. For example, I might not make myself the coffee I really enjoy, because I just don’t want to. I don’t get my hair cut, because I just can’t be arsed, which explains why I currently look like “an owl peeping through an ‘olly bush”, as my very Cornish parents would put it.
Straying briefly back into board games (that’s why you’re here in the first place), a couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to be invited 100 miles up the road to Gaming Rules! HQ to teach and play The Old King’s Crown with Paul and a couple of the guys from the Whose Turn Is It Anyway podcast. You can watch that playthrough here.
I enjoyed the game, I really like the people I played with, and I had a good time. At the same time though, it was incredibly draining for me. Mentally. I became super-aware of the gloom leaning on my mind, and by the end of the game I remember someone asking me what Spring actions I wanted to take in the game, but I had no idea about what was even happening. Being ‘on’ when that fog envelopes your brain is exhausting.
This is what happens to me when it comes to playing games here at home, or with my group, too. Learning a new game becomes a chore. Sitting down to write just has no appeal. Now, I could force myself to sit down and write, but I know I’ll have no pride in what comes out. So when that happens I’d rather write nothing than write something I don’t think is good enough. And that’s coming from someone who already has plenty of Imposter Syndrome!
Thank you
That’s it really. I’m aware that I have some really wonderful people all chucking me a few quid a month in support of me and what I write, and even when the brain slugs are sucking all the good out of it, I still value you all. People tell me I don’t owe them anything, but the cogs which make me tick tell me something different.
I’m not going anywhere, I’m going to keep writing, and I don’t need any help or sympathy. This will pass, and I know the steps to take to help it on its way. The sudden return to the dark and cold of autumn and winter never helps. I’m just writing this to explain why. Why I might not be as productive as normal. Why I might not be as chipper in chats. I mean, I might be, it’s just very difficult to know when you view it through your own smoke-tinted lens.
If you’re reading this and any of it rings true with you, and especially if you’ve never had a diagnosed mental health issue, then don’t ignore it. There are a ton of things you can do to help it, but the first step is definitely to talk to your GP. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re not ‘mental’. When you dig down into the chemistry of it you’ll realise that for a lot of people, it’s like having a cold. It’s something that happens to you, and you can’t necessarily stop it from happening, but there are things you can do to lessen the symptoms.
I’m not a mental health practitioner, and the things that work for me might not work for you, so I’m not going to tell you what to do. Speak to your friends and family, but speak to a medical professional too.
Keep smiling, keep playing games, get outside for a bit, and check in on people you care about. It can genuinely make a world of difference to someone.
Hi Adam, thank you for writing so eloquently and honestly about the difficulties you’re having. The more we normalise sharing this stuff, the more it’ll empower others who are perhaps struggling with this by themselves, and let them know they’re not alone, and encourage them to speak to others about it and hopefully to get some help.
I always look forward to your articles, but never ever feel like I’m ‘owed them’, just because I’m a supporter. Glad you enjoyed your game with some of us from the podcast, and look forward to catching up when we see you next.
Take care of yourself