Light beyond the clouds

Depression. It isn’t just an occasional feeling of unhappiness that typically passes within a few days of its onset. Indeed, sometimes feeling low is a normal and expected feature of our emotions. On the the contrary, depression can be a debilitating, sustained feeling of dejection and despondency that permeates every aspect of your life and try as you might, you just can’t shake it. Millions of people can attest to this and I am one of those people.

I can’t put a finger on when I first started to suffer from depression. Initially, I accepted this feeling as a part of me so I didn’t attempt to address it. I didn’t even label or acknowledge it as depression. It was a feeling that I became so familiar with that trying to address it seemed as futile as changing who I was.

Dark Clouds by Christoph Kummer is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

I find it near impossible to articulate how depression feels. There’s an emptiness and darkness that is omnipresent to your life. I would often liken it to a dementor or a dark, ominous cloud that refused to go away and would spoil anything remotely pleasant. Regardless of how hard I might try to ignore it, that dark cloud would remain to remind me that my depression hadn’t gone anywhere and could become heavier and darker whenever it chose to.

Nelson Gonzalez/Handsum Studios

There was no escape from that cloud. I would wake up and it would consume my absolute first thoughts in reminding me of how I was supposed to feel. Depression wouldn't even give me any respite in my initial waking moments.

It was akin to opening your front door and stepping out into darkened skies every single day. My depression was telling me I should accept and get used to it because that would be my experience indefinitely. All day, everyday. Depression was conditioning me to not even expect otherwise and after a while, I didn't. It had killed my hope of ever escaping that dark cloud so why bother trying?

The lows of depression are so low that they can consume you and put you on a path of self-destruction. And no matter how well-intentioned, no one can understand how you’re feeling. In the depths of depression, there isn’t any hope or glimmer of light to draw solace from. It’s a sickening, crushing feeling that can cause you to lose any sound perspective and rationale that are instead replaced by helplessness, self-loathing and destructive and skewed introspection.

During my low points, I would generate the most feeble and often spurious arguments to convince myself that I was nothing. I hated myself and felt I was a loser. Although this was in contrast to the faux veneer of confidence that I would otherwise usually portray. My deceptive demeanour continued to provide a shield to anyone getting as much as a glimpse of how I was really feeling on the inside. And for the most part, I was pretty good at maintaining the act. That meant no days off work, no expressing of my emotions, no public breakdowns, no confiding in anyone and no seeking of professional or peer support regardless of how awful I felt.

I would routinely get angry at myself for feeling this way. The rage I directed squarely at myself was driven by my feeling of inadequacy and the belief that I was worthless. I would try to direct my rage into exercise and so many of my workouts would be fuelled by me trying to combat depression. Every mile ran or every weight lifted was a counterpunch to my depression. Sometimes it worked and, albeit temporarily, I would feel indestructible and impervious to depression at that moment. I was on the front foot and it was a contrast to how I’d normally feel.

Yet sometimes my depression was too powerful for me and my endorphins seemed to have no effect whatsoever. I remember running a long distance race that I had built up in my head as a showdown of me vs depression. I ran the race in a good time and felt physically strong but emotionally, I felt empty. Absolutely empty. My depression was telling me that my resistance was futile.

My self-esteem was at rock bottom and I was eroding what was left of it that my depression hadn’t already destroyed. This was based on a distorted image of myself that I was projecting in my own head, and to others on days where I felt particularly dismissive towards my own self worth. If someone enquired about what I did, I would sometimes boldly tell them that I was a loser. They saw it as self-deprecation or banter while I felt I was just being honest and it was my way of not being in denial about how I saw myself.

Rationally, realistically and relatively that wasn’t the case and had anyone realised that it was my depression talking, they would have probably been bamboozled and unable to see what I had to be depressed about. Alas, depression is often void of logic and rationale. The logical side of me knew there wasn’t anything to support my feelings. But that didn’t stop the way that I felt and there was no way logic could permeate the overwhelming feeling of despair that I was plagued with. I was alone with my thoughts and emotions in an incredibly dark place that only I could see.

Where my depression gave me a shellacking in telling me I was nothing, anxiety (often found in tow with depression) drove my obsession with feeling inferior. I was garbage and I repeatedly reminded myself of it. My depression and anxiety would tag team me in somehow generating non-existent reasons to support this idea and I’d assume random strangers were superior to me based on absolutely nothing.

I remember once seeing a nondescript commuter on the train in a fairly modest pinstripe suit. Immediately, my mind told me he was in a better job than me (because pinstripe suits confirm one’s status as being in a good job, right?), had a better life than me and was a better person than me. Within seconds, I’d built a whole back story around this commuter's life with the sole aim of supporting the narrative that I was a lesser individual in contrast to him. That was despite me having no idea of his life other than us being on the same train.

My depression was now spiralling out of control yet I avoided pretty much everything that might have put me on a path to recovery sooner.

I wouldn’t entertain any possible solution to my depression. I wasn’t hiding my emotions or my depression out of shame but out of a refusal to accept the vulnerability of the weakness I believed it presented in me. Avoiding the acceptance of that vulnerability probably did me even more damage and was probably supported by my then perspective on mental health.

Coming from a community where mental health concerns can ignorantly equate to being “sick in di head” and being of a working class background where depression is often seen as something one should “just snap out of” to get on with life, on some level I probably didn’t want to address my feelings openly or internally. So I didn’t. Instead, I accepted them. I decided that feeling this way was how I was supposed to feel. I had to accept the internal and emotional darkness, no matter how much it affected every facet of my life. With punishing consequences to my mental health, I decided to continue on that basis.

As a man, there was probably another obstacle I was placing in addressing my depression in avoiding a label of being weak and unmasculine. It’s a problem that males face increasingly as the gender roles we’re subject to in society still disseminate a message that we shouldn’t talk about our feelings let alone have any feelings that might suggest any weakness. Suicide is the biggest cause of death of men under 45 in the UK and 75% of UK suicides are male. Yet when it comes to mental health, men are keeping the lid on a pressure cooker of emotions with no outlet as the pressure only builds.

My anxiety too was worsening. I was now experiencing panic attacks and breakdowns (which I obviously kept to myself). As a result, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide how I was really feeling. Perhaps that was down to some measure of my vulnerability coming to the fore. Conversely, perhaps my depression had just reached a point where my struggle to permanently conceal it was becoming untenable. On reflection, it was probably both.

The turning point for me in acknowledging that there was a problem came from my partner. She knew something was wrong but because I did my utmost to hide it, she had no idea what. She couldn’t empathise with me and similarly, I wasn’t able to fully detail what I was experiencing either as it had become a default emotional state for me. Nevertheless, she knew something wasn’t right and try as I might, it couldn’t be denied. Finally, after years of my depression being my secret, someone else knew and I gradually started articulating to her how I’d been feeling for all those years.

It might seem a trivial detail but this was major. I had finally admitted to myself (and now someone else) that I had a problem and had embarked on the path to addressing it.

Having told my partner how I was feeling, I unwittingly moved closer to trying to address the problem and had shed a layer of obstruction to at least some notion of recovery. Where I had once told myself I would never confide in anyone about how I felt, let alone seek help, I began to see the latter as less of an issue. It’s also where I warmed to the idea of counselling.

The albatross of my secret of suffering from depression had been lifted off of my shoulders. Seeking help became something I was open to and I spoke to men's mental health charity, CALM, who suggested counselling and our conversation was another layer removed.

With a surprising lack of trepidation and disregard for any stigma, I eventually started counselling. I wasn’t expecting it to be a panacea that would lead to me constantly feeling happy and rid me completely of any depression and anxiety and if I’m honest, I still don’t. There has to be some realism when it comes to addressing depression as unhappiness and occasional sadness are features of life. It also means that any successful recovery from depression doesn’t suddenly mean a utopian life of perpetual happiness. What it does mean is being able to deal with feeling low in a manner that doesn’t spiral into anything more than that and if it does, having coping mechanisms to manage it. 

As I was increasingly experiencing deeper depression and anxiety, I felt I had nothing to lose with counselling. I went into it with an open mind and was probably so emotionally drained from my depression that any resistance I might once have had was diminished.

I opted to seek counselling privately rather than through my doctor. Despite my relaxed perspective on it, I was wary of how it would be viewed on my medical records. I say that with some reluctance as in some way my attitude probably exacerbates the very stigma I was afraid of. I just didn’t feel comfortable going to a doctor with this and still maintain distrust for how a doctor might advise me to deal with depression.

Whether or not it’s an unfounded view, I felt a doctor might possibly pass it off nonchalantly, putting it down to “feeling blue”, suggesting “it’ll soon pass” or even suggest medication before exploring what was right for me. My expectations show how much work there is for even doctors in understanding how they may be perceived by a patient with mental health concerns.

Counselling was a completely new experience for me, especially as a very private person. However, I soon became comfortable with it. I’d talk about how I felt in whatever detail I offered and my counsellor would listen. He’d unobtrusively ask intermittent questions or make an observation that might gradually signpost our conversation towards some clarity. As only my counsellor knew how I felt, I wasn’t exactly straying from my usual private self either. Furthermore, I felt I was finally being proactive in fighting my depression.

It’s difficult to explain the undoubted effectiveness of counselling but it provided an environment that was free from judgement and a forum where I could safely articulate my feelings. Not to mention, it’s helped me explore some of the possible roots of my depression and anxiety. I still don’t know exactly what caused me to feel this way and depression is far from logical insofar as it doesn’t need a reason to be present.

Counselling hasn’t resulted in an epiphany where one day I realised I was free of depression. Nonetheless, I attribute counselling to the incremental but significant progress I have made in addressing my depression and my anxiety. When I look back, especially to some of the emotional lows I’ve had, the contrast in my mental health is startling.

The stigma surrounding mental health issues arguably and subconsciously affected my willingness to consider counselling sooner. There isn’t a stigma around going to see a doctor for a physical concern and it should be no different for mental health. Seeking support for mental health has nevertheless remained taboo with no validity and to the detriment of those who would benefit from that very support.

I lost years to depression. Years in being impeded from experiencing progress in so many areas of my life where depression made me stagnant. Years of not feeling good enough and inferior to everyone around me. I was suffocated by the dark cloud and it held me captive from experiencing the light that it had hidden from me for so long.

My life was effectively on hold thanks to depression. I wondered if one day I'd be free of the emotional and mental prison that unbeknownst to everyone I was trapped within (although there was no actual feeling of optimism in my thoughts). In retrospect, that was an obvious dichotomy with how I was feeling but in spite of that I told myself to be ready for that day should it ever be realised.

The Deep by Sarah Ingram (www.sarahingram.co.uk)

While our environment and circumstances can appear one way, depression is potent enough to make them feel drastically different. It’s a distorted reality but one that no one can see but you. Consequently, I’ve come to accept that amidst my experience, I’ve benefited in some way from my depression and anxiety.

Depression and anxiety has given me a perspective of the human condition that without it, I wouldn’t have. My heightened awareness of this is almost the gift that came with the curse of depression. Similar to a sixth sense, I can now see and empathise with depression and anxiety in others in a way that many are unable to appreciate. Moreover, if depression and anxiety is making someone feel inadequate or weak, I instinctively understand not to voice or project anything said depression and anxiety will feed on.

That doesn't mean concealing your own successes for fear of triggering or exacerbating someone’s depression or their anxiety, it just means having some sensitivity and empathy in what you might project. It should be a given but if someone is depressed about their finances, they probably don’t want to hear about your new Rolex. Depression and anxiety have a way of making you realise that even more vividly because that empathy is much more likely to be instinctively forthcoming.

I don’t know where my depression came from but to no avail I’ve spent years trying to reason with myself what the source might have been and why depression chose me. What I do know, but didn't always realise, is that depression didn't prey on me because I’m weak. Depression has taken me to such lows that to be able to write this today tells me I’m far from weak. I still need to remind myself of that but it's a reminder that my experience with depression undoubtedly refutes.

As a fan of combat sports, I look at some of the fighters who’ve been victim to depression, fighters I’ve supported and followed in awe of their prowess in combat yet depression has been able to metaphorically send them to the canvas. Ricky Hatton, Tyson Fury, Oscar de la Hoya to name a few suffered from depression and there are plenty from other sports.

Hatton especially has spoken of his experience with depression and being suicidal with a candidness that helps to fight the stigma around men speaking about their mental health. As a working class man too, his message resonates with me and hopefully others. Having followed his career, there's nothing weak about ‘Hitman’ Hatton whatsoever and more men need to follow his example as we fight the stigma.

My depression didn’t subside overnight and addressing it was, and remains, a work in progress; one that perhaps may never be wholly complete. What I now experience, I refer to as ‘residual depression’. The cloud might sometimes continue to be present in the background, just not directly over my head or engulfing me, and I’m better able to expedite its retreat.

I struggled on how to conclude writing this but realised that's because there can’t be a static state of happiness as a conclusion to my experience. That’s ok. Therefore I’m ok. Mental health can’t be viewed with rose-tinted glasses because that isn’t reflective of life and for most of us, our emotional well-being can’t be expected to plateau regardless of that being in a good or bad state.

Good mental health is about managing our emotional well-being and addressing the stigma of mental health conditions plays a significant factor in that. Depression, and other mental health conditions, can’t remain a taboo conversation or be perceived as weakness. It needs to be in the open so that more people suffering from depression realise they too can experience light beyond the clouds.

Anthony Joshua has answered the questions about just how good he is

My prediction for Anthony Joshua vs Wladimir Klitschko came fairly late compared to most fights. The fight simply raised so many questions upon which it was difficult to make an informed choice as to who would win. My biggest question was just how good Anthony Joshua actually is. Although after last night’s heavyweight barnstormer, we now know that he’s the real deal.

As the fight neared, my doubts for a Joshua victory incrementally grew. I wasn’t buying the smoke and mirrors narrative that Eddie Hearn and Sky generated because it was based on Joshua defeating fighters like Charles Martin. That wasn’t a slight against Joshua but merely a fact that Joshua hadn’t fought anyone upon which to gauge how good he was.

In contrast, Klitschko looked more focused than ever and as an experienced fighter who didn’t need the money as an intrinsic motivator, he clearly believed he could win having seen a chink in Joshua’s arsenal that he could exploit. Consequently, I hesitantly went with a Klitschko victory by stoppage in the mid to late rounds but to his credit, and in more ways than one, Joshua proved me wrong.

The tactics and developments of the fight largely played out how I anticipated. I expected both fighters to be fairly gun shy in the opening rounds before Joshua would try to steamroll Klitschko; relying on his power to stop the Ukrainian but getting gassed in the process. And in the fifth round that’s exactly what happened with Joshua unloading a barrage of his signature bombs that put Klitschko on the canvas.

Klitschko, who’s always been perceived as chinny from earlier in this career, managed to get up and showed he could indeed take Joshua’s power. He returned to put a spent Joshua on his backside in the sixth with a stunning knockdown. An exhausted Joshua, exacerbated by him coming in at a career heaviest to presumably bolster his power for a stoppage, was taking a shellacking and experience was now trumping youth.

I thought it was now over for Joshua as the fight continued to play out largely as I had predicted. He was now in uncharted waters, being on the receiving end of such punishment and unable to answer back with anything meaningful, and I expected the referee to stop the fight or for Klitschko to take matters into his own hands. He looked punch drunk after the knockdown. His corner must have been concerned and I wouldn’t have been surprised if Eddie Hearn soiled himself as his cash cow was on the verge of defeat.

Though somehow Joshua managed to survive. If we didn’t know if he had heart and survival instincts before, there was no doubt based on the sixth round. But this was also the round where Klitschko’s experience perhaps lost the fight for him. Where a greener fighter would have probably emptied the tank having smelt blood and gambled on seizing a brutal stoppage, Klitschko didn’t succumb to the temptation to take a risk in such a high stakes fight. Yet had he, he may have seen the W.

Klitschko continued to play the long game in subsequent rounds but neither fighter disappointed. For a 41 year old who hadn’t been in the ring since November 2015, Klitschko showed no signs of ring rust or age. Similarly, any doubts over Joshua’s ability at this level were banished. We always knew Joshua could dish out punishment but now we knew he could withstand it too.

In the 11th, Joshua, maybe sensing urgency, showed that he’d carried his power throughout the fight despite what were a gruelling previous ten rounds for both fighters. To have power is one thing, but to maintain it in a fight like this shows true mettle that Joshua has never had to prove. Coming out from the bell, he looked to take Klitschko out and was seemingly willing to empty the tank yet again to achieve it. It was a gamble worth taking and after Klitschko met the canvas twice, a further onslaught saw the referee stopping the fight. Youth and power had trumped experience and delivered Joshua to a deserved victory.

What was probably the biggest surprise was that the fight was truly a humdinger of a bout. Klitschko has been responsible for many a borefest that has characterised heavyweight boxing as a division void of the glamour and hype of yesteryear while Joshua has been largely in routine fights that excited only the casuals and frustrated the boxing fraternity. Both fighters were therefore unlikely players in a thrilling act that has restored the excitement that should be inherent to heavyweight boxing as the pinnacle of the hurt business.

We cannot doubt the heart, power, chin and resilience of either fighter and there is absolutely no shame in Klitschko’s defeat. Indeed, for yesterday’s performance, I rate him more now than I did for the bulk of his career.

Similarly, Joshua has answered the question of how good he is. He survived a tear up with a future hall of famer who wasn’t past it either and came out victorious in a manner that I didn’t foresee.

Joshua is still being built as a fighter and would have learned an abundance in this fight (and arguably implemented some of that within the second half). Against explosive and predatory fighters like Deontay Wilder or David Haye, Joshua wouldn’t have been granted the respite Klitschko gave him by not pursuing the knockout in the sixth round and upon smelling blood, both would have pounced with the ferociousness of a savage lion upon its prey.

Wilder and Haye will have been watching realising that while Joshua is dangerous, he is vulnerable with a less-than-granite chin and can be hurt and even put down. Tyson Fury too, who Joshua called out post-fight, would present an awkwardness that would test Joshua as it did Klitschko. Nevertheless, Joshua isn’t just a heavy puncher, we now know he’s also a fighter who’s willing and able to go in the trenches and come out fighting.

The fight will be fuel for the Joshua hype train driven by Sky and Matchroom and boarded by those who’ll continue to make irksome and sycophantic comparisons to Muhammed Ali and other legends. Though right now, Joshua is at the top of the heavyweight tree and deservedly so. A rematch clause was included in the contract but at 41 and after a tough fight, will Klitschko want it?

Before the fight many questions were asked. Subsequently, many answers have been provided. We saw two unlikely warriors banish the doubts that have characterised their respective careers thus far and instead putting on a performance that will contribute to their legacies as great fighters.