The Worst Kind Of Anxiety (Chapter. 2)
Written by Andi Bazaar, Co-wrote by José Schenkkan Joseph | Oct 22, 2022
"A number of reports this year about the consequences of austerity and scope of poverty in the UK, question is do mental health professionals have a moral responsibility to secure people's right to an adequate standard of living given its effect on mental health and well-being?"
- A report for EHRC (Equality Human Rights) on Nov 28, 2018 by Jonathan Portes and Howard Reed found that: "changes in public spending since 2010 will have a disproportionately negative impact on lone parents (predominantly women), young adults, severely disabled people and certain ethnic groups."
- UN envoy article published on Nov 16, 2018 argued: "that the experience of the United Kingdom especially since 2010, underscores the conclusion that poverty is a political choice. Austerity could easily have spared the poor, if the political will had existed to do so."
- Another report by JRF "Joseph Rowntree Foundation" charts the nature and impact of rising poverty levels in UK, child poverty has been rising since 2011/2012 and now 4 million children and adults in work are living in poverty a rise of 500,000 in the last 5 years.
https://www.jrf.org.uk/report/uk-poverty-2018
I want to talk about priming or as I like to call it, the binocular effect. This happens to everyone not just people who are going through mental health issues, the binocular effect is like holding a pair of binoculars. We see in detail certain things while not being able to see the big picture, let’s say we are going through very happy moments in our life.
Our brain will seem to remember only other happy moments in our life, if we study or learn something while we are happy the conditions have to be similar in an exam in order for memory to function well.
This happens often in depression and anxiety as well, when we are depressed, we feel that we only remember tragic or depressing moments in our life to the exclusion of positive ones.
- We may start thinking that our life was only tragic, the reality is that it is probably not true we just have a hard time remembering the happy moments because our binoculars are stuck in that depression.
- We can no longer see the whole reality, this is because our brains are highly situational and function as a network. Our memories are connected together and what often binds them are emotions.
- We store happy memories, sad memories and other types of memories in different networks, so when we have those binoculars the only memories that come without effort are those connected to that network.
That’s why it is important to recognize that and force our brains to slowly remove those binoculars, we can consciously dig into our memories to get the happy ones. This forces our automatic thought process to remove the binoculars, this is because our long term memories do not go away. They are sometimes harder to access but they are always there.
Another important thing we can do is write down all the positive events we have had everyday, that’s because when we are depressed or anxious and our brain only registers events that confirm our mood rather than be objective and register everything.
When we write down and focus on the whole picture, it essentially forces our brain to look more at the big picture and is not an important tool for recovery. The binoculars effect is one of the things I try to change first in therapy because it becomes easier to recover after that.
So here’s a thing, after spending 8 years dozing in the corner of my mind, occasionally snorting, scratching and farting to remind “Hugo-licharre Freimann” of its existence — 8 months ago the black dog of depression bit him on the arse again, hard.
“mental health, sadly remains a taboo subject for many so hopefully this modest article will resonate for those who feel similar and normalising emotions/sensations that for whatever reason they’ve chosen not to articulate.”
For me it’s also cathartic, cathartic how?
Well, this depression feels different to episodes I’ve previously experienced. There’s no sadness or an overwhelming sense of doom instead it’s a white noise of nothingness.
This silent tinnitus fills my mind, screws up my sleep, decimates my ability to concentrate and renders my powers of coherent thought virtually useless. The result is confusion, mental isolation, utter frustration and an inability to absorb the joy I normally can from my usual staples such as poring over old car magazines.
Things that would ordinarily take moments occupy an age, this story alone has been rattling around my mind as fractured thoughts for weeks and still took a couple of ours to tap out but now it’s part-written I’m feeling a curious sense of accomplishment.
As mentioned at the start, my own black dog I visualise him as a pug (with glassy eyes for what it’s worth) has been loitering and occasionally nudging me for attention frequently over the past 8 years.
Usually I can pacify him, tossing him a biscuit, tickling his belly and telling him he’s a good boy. I can keep him content in his bed in the corner, not this time.
I’ve not experienced a specific event that’s made him so bloody furious, it just seems to be one of those things. The serotonin levels in my brain unhelpfully pissing about, knowing what it is doesn’t mean I can merely will it back away again though.
While it is one of those things, nevertheless I’m aware of agitating factors that have exacerbated the problem. Meds *should* be working but aren’t yet. So, it’s a case of waiting a bit more for now. Hoping something changes for the better soon to drag me away from daytime tell.
I’m trying to re-engage myself with things I know I enjoy, but it requires perseverance as it’s slow-going. I’ve got piles of unread magazines that I’ve yet to thumb through, which is unheard of for me.
Instead I’m endeavouring to feel normal through experiential means: driving, visiting places, going out for a coffee and seeing friends — social distancing permitting, having a supportive employer also helps massively.
That's my 8 months ago I shared a story about a period of depression I’d entered, not only did it feel like a pressure valve had been eased open — the side effect was it resonated with others who opened up about their own mental health for the first time that felt very humbling.
Based on similar experiences in previous years at that point I fully expected that by the end of 2020 I’d be back to my nerdy normality, dear reader I hate to disappoint but it’s not the case.
After 3 decades of stroking my black dog to keep him contented (not a euphemism, so don’t make it one, you animals) this period of depression has turned from an inconvenient blip to a prolonged pain in the arse.
In many regards I can work around it because my mind’s functioning far better in many regards than it was last summer, I’ve continued to work and produced some of the editorial I’m most proud of as well as diving into some fascinating research projects but it’s lingering.
The lingering I can handle, but what’s making it trickier is that it’s also fluctuating — some days I feel like I’m consuming espressos intravenously, others I’m sure I could sleep like "RIP: Van Winkle" after guzzling Night Nurse (no, that wasn’t one either).
Medication continues although as I feel like I’ve plateaued, I’ve a nagging suspicion I’ll need to swap onto another flavour at some point. Thankfully, I’m in the fortunate position of having a positive channel of dialogue with my GP which helps but there’s no quick fix.
Counselling has also formed part of my programme more recently, it’s going okay rather than brilliantly — to be honest so I’m going to explore another avenue imminently. Where I’m also fortunate is being surrounded by a team of colleagues who’re also friends, having supportive senior managers and an HR liaison plus I’m working in an industry I adore and can indulge passionately in.
As much as I’m drawing some positives, I’d much rather my mind wasn’t dicking about, that I could get on and just enjoy simply *being* again. Of course, it *is* okay not to be okay.
It’s important for me to remember that as it is for anyone else finding things rough just now, so if you’re struggling please don’t keep it bottled up. Share how you’re feeling with someone and begin that healing process, it won’t make it miraculously disappear but that sense of relief is intoxicating and will have you craving more.
You’ve got this, people and so have I.
A SPECIAL THANKS TO:
- Dr Oliver Schofield, MD (Consulting)
- Dr Seth Gryffen, MD (Consulting)
- José Schenkkan (Co-wrote)
- Clayton Euridicé Schofield (Editor/Journalist)
- Henrie Louis Friedrich (Analyst)
- Timothée Freimann schofield (Photographed)
- Shot at GQ’s Studios by José and Benjamin Schenkka Joseph
- In appearance “Hugo-licharre Freimann”
