The Last of the Irish Rover: A Tribute to Shane MacGowan

Sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey ’cause I’m going far away (far away)
I’d like to think of me returning when I can
To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane

— Shane MacGowan, “Sally MacLennane”

This is written as a tribute to British-born Irish singer-songwriter and musician Shane MacGowan who died November 30, 2023 at the age of 65. I have no privileged knowledge or insight into the man’s life or work, indeed I knew little about him until recently. I want to focus on the impact Shane MacGowan has had on my life. His death has given me a great deal to think about in a number of areas, including political history, national identity, resilience, mental health, and addiction. If you’re interested in more, I’ve included a list of resources at the end of this article.

Fairytale of New York

I must declare up front that I was never into punk rock, though it broke onto the music scene in the mid-70s when I was in my teens. To the extent that I considered punk at all, I found it brash and uncouth. My tastes at the time stretched to Irish singer and songwriter Dana, Neil Sedaka, and The Wombles. My musical credentials established, I’ll begin with the one song everyone knows, whether they’re a fan of MacGowan and The Pogues or not: “Fairytale of New York.” There are so many great recordings but the one I love best is this live performance from 1998 with The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. As many will know, Kirsty MacColl died under tragic circumstances in December 2000. Watching them perform together is all the more poignant since MacGowan’s death.

In the past few years the song took on some specific and personal resonances. I went so far as to learn the lyrics, should I ever be called upon to perform it in karaoke. (I wasn’t.) Singing those lines to myself until they became part of me taught me the raw brilliance of MacGowan’s writing.

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won’t see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

— Jem Finer and Shane MacGowan, “Fairytale of New York”

Writing in The Independent in 2017, Roisin O’Connor called it “a drunken hymn for people with broken dreams and abandoned hopes.” I feel that captures the song’s spirit perfectly, and reflects its significance for me personally. Singing it loudly — if not quite drunkenly — on the streets of Newcastle is a memory I treasure. O’Connor’s article was republished in December 2013 following MacGowan’s death. One of the most moving versions of “Fairytale” is this performance by Glen Hansard and Lisa O’Neil at Shane MacGowan’s funeral in St Mary of the Rosary Church in the small town of Nenagh in Co Tipperary, Ireland.

I’m rarely affected by the death of artists, actors, and celebrities. I don’t know why it was different this time, but the outpouring of love, loss, and appreciation at MacGowan’s passing caught me off guard. This man was clearly so much more than the co-writer and performer of the best Christmas song ever. I wanted to know more about him, and why his passing affected me so much.

Last year marked three decades of continuous service at my place of work. It was something of a wake-up call, leading me to consider the inevitability of my eventual demise. I’ve never given much thought to my death and funeral. I won’t be there, so why bother? I’ve come to realise that’s unfair to those I’ll leave behind, and have committed to addressing the basics at least. For certain, the event won’t be televised globally, as Shane MacGowan’s was. There’ll be no live band, dancing, or singing. No eulogies or readings by the likes of Nick Cave and Johnny Depp. No presidential attendees. My name and memory won’t be toasted in pubs and bars around the world. But what kind of legacy would I like? What do I deserve? As I wrote when considering my thirty years service, “these are questions for another day, but at least — at last — I’m asking them.” Unlikely as it might seem, Shane MacGowan is helping me ask them.

My first response to his death was to seek out other songs performed by The Pogues. (Fun fact: the band was originally called Pogue Mahone, an anglicisation of the Irish for kiss my arse.) I’ve linked a number of my favourites at the end of this piece, but I want to mention three in particular: “The Irish Rover,” “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda,” and “Sally MacLennane.”

The Irish Rover

I was blown away by the energy of “The Irish Rover,” as performed by The Pogues with Irish folk band The Dubliners. Credited to composer J.M. Crofts, the song tells the fantastic tale of The Irish Rover on her voyage from Ireland to America. The ship herself is magnificently if improbably equipped. It boasts thirty-seven masts and a cargo that includes “one million bags of the best Sligo rags, two million barrels of stone, three million sides of old blind horses hides, and four million barrels of bones.” Surviving calamities which at one point reduce the crew to two (“myself and the captain’s old dog”) the ship eventually founders, leaving the narrator as truly the last of The Irish Rover. The very different styles of the bands’ lead singers — Ronnie Drew for the Dubliners and MacGowan for the Pogues — complement each other perfectly. It’s a near flawless performance which deserves to be wider known.

It awakens in me a yearning only truly great folk music can inspire. Part of me wishes I could claim Irish, Welsh, or Scottish descent, because those nations seem to have more or less clearly defined national identities and sense of collective pride. That may be naive but it’s how it appears to me from outside. I’m British / English but I’ve never known that kind of rootedness. I’ve written of this before, in such posts as Like a Rootless Tree (Where Are Your Roots?), and Belonging (Longing to Be). Born in England to Irish parents, MacGowan was proud of his Irish republican ancestry. Former Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams delivered a reading at his funeral, which was also attended by Irish president Michael D. Higgins. His life and music have inspired me to become better informed about world history, especially the World Wars, the Middle-East, and the long and bloody history of Anglo-Irish politics.

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

Written in 1972 by Scottish-born Australian singer-songwriter Eric Bogle, “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” tells the tale of a young Australian soldier who is maimed in the Gallipoli campaign in World War I. It carries huge significance for the ANZAC veteran community, and is a powerful expression of the futility of war.

And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity

There are many recordings of the song, including this one by Bogle himself, but for me this live version by The Pogues captures the pain and pointlessness of the conflict better than any. It inspired me to learn more about the courage of those who fell in the ill-fated Gallipoli campaign.

Sally MacLennane

It’s impossible to talk about MacGowan without addressing his long-term addiction to drugs and alcohol. Both are well documented. In an obituary piece in The New York Times Matt Phillips described MacGowan as “a titanically destructive personality and a master songsmith whose lyrics painted vivid portraits of the underbelly of Irish immigrant life.”

His wife, Victoria Clarke once stated that “his whole career has revolved around [drinking] and, indeed, been both enhanced and simultaneously inhibited by it.” There’s no denying the devastating effect addiction had on his life. It led to him being dismissed from The Pogues in 1991 due to the impact of drugs and alcohol on the band’s live performances. He was arrested in 1999 in London after being reported to the emergency services by Irish singer, songwriter, and activist Sinéad O’Connor. He later credited her intervention as helping him ultimately to beat his drug addiction. He was sober from around 2016 following treatment for a fall which fractured his pelvis. In 2004, Shane MacGowan told The Guardian that he’d been given six weeks to live, “about 25 years ago.” He outlived the prediction by more than forty years.

Alcohol and drink culture run through much of The Pogues’ repertoire. Another of my favourite songs, “Sally MacLennane,” was allegedly inspired by drinking sessions MacGowan had with friends in London before boarding the boat train home to Ireland. The title refers to a dry Irish stout brewed by Redlight Redlight Beer Parlour & Brewery. My favourite version is this live performance from 1985.

We walked him to the station in the rain
We kissed him as we put him on the train
And we sang him a song of times long gone
Though we knew that we’d be seeing him again

Sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey ’cause I’m going far away (far away)
I’d like to think of me returning when I can
To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane

The lyrics evoke the kind of drunken camaraderie I’ve scarcely experienced. (One session at the end of my final year at university is a possible exception.) I’ve never smoked, nor taken recreational drugs of any kind. That’s not to claim any moral superiority or willpower on my part. No one in my family smoked or drank more than occasionally. None of my school or university friends smoked. At university, I drank beer at the pub and white wine at parties. I occasionally got drunk but never considered it something to be proud of. I’ve been offered drugs once in my life, by a stranger within minutes of arriving with a friend at the Glastonbury Festival site in 1983. It was probably marijuana but neither of us were tempted or interested enough to ask. We declined, politely.

In more recent years, I’ve known a few people who smoke. Fran has occasionally self-medicated with alcohol and cigarettes. Our book recalls is a chat conversation from 2013, while Fran was on a very stressful three month road trip in Europe.

Martin: Tell me three things you want to accomplish today.

Fran: Charge my phone, smoke, breakfast, rest.. I will quit smoking on the boat home.. For now it helps take the edge off my stress..

Martin: The cigarettes are self-medication for stress? Like drink is for mania and depression?

Fran: Yeah.. I’m using them now to make it through hell..

Fran stopped smoking on her return home and reduced her drinking to social levels. She’s recently given up alcohol altogether. I consider myself fortunate never to have taken up smoking or drugs, or drinking excessively. I’m aware enough to recognise I might easily have become dependent if I’d been exposed to them. Fran was able to stop smoking and drinking without too much trouble but I’ve known other friends for whom smoking and other addictions have been far harder to address. I applaud and support anyone battling addiction and other compulsive behaviours, however they manifest.

I’m reminded of other artists I admire whose lives have been affected by addiction. The first to come to mind is Amy Winehouse, who died of alcohol poisoning in 2011. Performing as RØRY, Roxanne Emery is another. I wrote of my love of her music last year in a post which also discussed German band AnnenMayKantereit. In an interview for Underground Emery said, “I got sober in 2018, and then a load of therapy in 2020 when I realised being sober was HARD. I processed a lot of trauma, from the death of my mother at 22, to the dysfunctional dynamics and addictions in my family.”

Shane MacGowan, the Absurd Man

I recently explored my response to the philosophy of Albert Camus. Specifically, his approach to the existential absurdity of seeking meaning and purpose in a universe that offers neither. For me, MacGowan exemplifies Camus’ Absurd Man better than anyone I can think of. This may seem presumptuous, if not ridiculous, but it’s not the first time parallels have been drawn between punk and existentialism. In Existentialism as Punk Philosophy Stuart Hanscomb identifies a common spirit of rebellion. “Punk is music that is anti-music,” he declares. “Existentialism is a philosophy that is anti-philosophy.”

Rebellion is a central theme in Camus’ work. In The Myth of Sisyphus he asserts “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” It’s hard not to think of MacGowan when you read those words. The following is from a tribute piece in The Guardian by Sean O’Hagan titled “Chaos? This is natural living!” The genius of Shane MacGowan.

More than anyone else I have ever met, he lived entirely in the moment, the eternal present as he understood it, inextricably linked to an altered state of consciousness: alcoholic, chemical or hallucinogenic.

O’Hagan recalls a conversation with MacGowan which is especially pertinent to Camus.

“I believe in the dignity of the human soul,” [Shane] once told me, when asked about his spirituality. “People who can put up with incredible hardship and still not be depressed, still enjoy themselves.”

This is the essence of the Absurd Man. Condemned by the gods to forever push a boulder to the top of a mountain, only for it to roll down again, Sisyphus finds a way to escape the futility and hopelessness of his situation. Camus writes:

Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

We must likewise imagine Shane MacGowan happy. Certainly he drank deeply of life. I’m reminded of the poem “And Thus in Nineveh” by Ezra Pound.

“It is not, Raana, that my song rings highest
Or more sweet in tone than any, but that I
Am here a Poet, that doth drink of life
As lesser men drink wine.”

I’ve no idea if MacGowan knew of Pound’s work, but it’s an epitaph of which he might have approved. There’s a wonderful YouTube video on Camus titled Absurdism. How to Party at the End of Meaning. Its irreverent and engaging narration ends as follows:

Absurdism isn’t an answer to the mysteries of life, why bad things happen, where the universe came from or how to survive this shit. It’s just asking the question, oh god what if we never achieve final explanations, what if we never see the big picture, what if we go our whole lives without ever having known what it was all about, and replying to oneself — oh look, it’s a puffin! It’s a nice puffin. It’s a nice day. Oh, we’re alive. That’s unprecedentedly weird and cool, whether it’s fully explained or not. Let’s go for a beer.

In this piece I’ve explored aspects of Shane MacGowan’s life and work as they resonate for me. I hope I’ve brought an awareness of his genius — and flaws — to others who, like me until very recently, knew him only as the front man in a punk band who sang that song about Christmas. I hope I’ve shown there was much much more to the man, his music, and his life. At the end of that life, he was and remains loved and feted by millions. Absurd or not, that’s a life well-lived.

I’ll close with a quotation from author Neil Gaiman’s charge to artists everywhere (which is to say, all of us) in his commencement address at Philadelphia’s University of the Arts.

Now go and make interesting mistakes, make amazing mistakes, make glorious and fantastic mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being here.

Shane MacGowan more than met that charge. The onus is on us to do the same.

 

Further Reading and Listening

The following links are provided for anyone wanting to further explore the life and works of Shane McGowan.

Books

A Drink with Shane MacGowan by Shane MacGowan and Victoria Mary Clarke

A Furious Devotion: The Life of Shane MacGowan by Richard Balls

Articles

Shane MacGowan (Wikipedia)

Victoria Mary Clarke on her husband Shane MacGowan

“Chaos? This is natural living!” The genius of Shane MacGowan

Fairytale of New York

Fairytale of New York (Wikipedia)

Fairytale of New York lyrics

Fairytale of New York Official video

Fairytale of New York with Kirsty MacColl 1998

Fairytale of New York The Pogues and Ella Finer

Fairytale of New York played at Shane MacGowan’s funeral (Glen Hansard and Lisa O’Neill)

Other Songs and Performances

Spancil Hill (Shane MacGowan and Christy Moore)

The Rare Old Mountain Dew (The Dubliners and The Pogues)

The Irish Rover (The Dubliners and The Pogues) The Late Show 1987

Sally MacLennane (album version)

Sally MacLennane (Live)

And the Band Played Walzing Matilda (Live)

And the Band Played Walzing Matilda (Eric Bogle)

A Rainy Night in Soho (Live)

A Pair of Brown Eyes (Live)

 

Photo 185240628 | Shane MacGowan in concert. Milan, Italy. June 2009. © Fabio Diena | Dreamstime.com

 

RØRY and AMK: Two Brilliant Bands Living Rent-Free in My Head

And now Avril’s on the radio / Takes me back to 15 years ago / Just a small town kid with no regrets / ’Cause I ain’t dropped out of uni yet.
— Roxanne Emery, “Uncomplicated”

TW: Mention of suicidality, trauma, and addiction

Music is an important part of my life. I’ve previously shared two playlists: Twelve Songs That Remind Me What Caring Is All About and Ten Anthems for Comfort, Celebration, Inspiration, and Healing. In I’m on My Way I explored my response to Ed Sheeran’s “Castle on the Hill.” This time, I want to talk about two bands that have been living rent-free in my head for the past few weeks. I may just be very late to the party, but I hadn’t heard of RØRY or AnnenMayKantereit (AMK) until recently. It’s my pleasure to share them with you. Song links are to my favourite versions on YouTube.

RØRY / Roxanne Emery / ADHD_love

RØRY is the stage name of London-based singer-songwriter Roxanne Emery. I first came across Roxanne through the YouTube videos she’s made with her partner Richard Pink, in which they share their experiences of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). On their Instagram channel ADHD_love they introduce themselves as “Rich (neurotypical) and Rox (ADHD AF!)”. Their book Dirty Laundry: Why Adults with ADHD Are So Ashamed and What We Can Do to Help is available on Amazon and elsewhere.

I’ve not read their book yet, but Roxanne and Richard come across as lovely, genuine people with a passion for sharing their lived experience. It’s clear from the responses they get on social media that their content resonates with and helps a lot of people. It won’t surprise anyone that I draw parallels between them talking about ADHD and what Fran and I share in our book and blog regarding bipolar disorder and supportive friendships.

At some point I realised that Roxanne is also a fantastic singer-songwriter. It didn’t take me long to search out all the RØRY tracks I could find on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and Spotify. Without exception, her songs are raw and personal, exploring such themes as depression, suicidality, family dysfunction, and addiction. The first song I listened to was “Help Your Friends Get Sober” and it remains one of my favourites. Speaking about it in an interview for Kerrang! Roxanne said:

We have a mental health crisis, especially among young men, and their coping mechanism? Going out with mates, getting in a few bags of cocaine, and staying up all weekend. That’s not what they need. They need a chat. A hug. And maybe some support getting help.

I haven’t lost anyone to addiction or suicide, but I do know the fear that someone I know and care about might be in serious danger. The final lines of the song hit me hard, as they should.

In December, just gone, I lost a friend.
Got a call from his mom, saying, “Jimmy’s dead.”
Where do we go now the party’s over?
Fuck.

“Alternative” explores the enduring impact of dysfunctional families. It opens with a spoken, close-to-tears introduction: “I think there’s a version of me that’s happy somewhere in an alternate universe. I don’t know why, but that just is so sad to think about.” Check out the official roof-top video on YouTube.

I’ve yet to find a RØRY track I don’t respond to, but the one that’s really got under my skin is “Uncomplicated.” I wake in the middle of the night and find the lines turning in my head. The official video is quirky and colourful, the lyrics are catchy, and it’s more upbeat musically than “Alternative” or “Help Your Friends Get Sober,” but pay attention and you’ll find a powerful story about living with the consequences of trauma, pain, and loss.

And now Avril’s on the radio
Takes me back to 15 years ago
Just a small town kid with no regrets
’Cause I ain’t dropped out of uni yet

And my brother is still in my life
Ain’t lost nobody to suicide
Take me back I fuckin’ hate it
Those days were uncomplicated

Discussing the song for Kerrang! Roxanne said “[i]t’s about feeling old and lost, and missing the days you were an angsty teen because things were uncomplicated then, even though you didn’t know it.”

With its mention of Canadian singer-songwriter Avril Lavigne, “Uncomplicated” has some personal resonances for me. Lavigne’s “I’m With You” was a favourite of my friend PJ who died way too young. Ironically, given the title, it also evokes fond memories of singing to Avril’s “Complicated” with a friend at Stack Newcastle, one of my Four Happy Places.

AnnenMayKantereit / Henning May

There’s less of a back-story to my discovering AnnenMayKantereit. Also known as AMK, the German band is named for its founding members, Christopher Annen, Henning May, and Severin Kantereit. I chanced on their cover of Suzanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner” while browsing video shorts on social media.

I mean no disrespect to the other performers (on this track, AMK are joined by indie rock band Giant Rooks) but Henning May’s voice is beyond awesome. As the band’s Wikipedia entry attests, “[a] notable feature of the band’s music is the distinctly rough voice of the singer Henning May.” One YouTube comment on “Tom's Diner” puts it even more clearly: “I love how the second guy looks unassuming then he hits you with the most soulful shit you’ll ever hear.”

Despite covering only the first half of Vega’s lyrics the band have created something I find utterly compelling. I’ve been known to put it on repeat for an hour at at time, and it’s another song I find running through my head at unguarded moments. Musically and lyrically, it’s flawless, but I also adore how it plays to my love of coffee shops and people-watching.

I am sitting
In the morning
At the diner
On the corner

I am waiting
At the counter
For the man
To pour the coffee

And he fills it
Only halfway
And before
I even argue

He is looking
Out the window
At somebody
Coming in

I’ve written about this love elsewhere. In Coffee and Scribbles I described ten of my favourite writing venues. My current favourite, Costa Coffee in Kingston Park, Newcastle, is another of my Happy Places. As I write this now, I’m sitting at my favourite table in Costa, with “Tom’s Diner” playing in my headset on repeat. It captures the many hours I spend in coffee shops, my connection with the baristas (a recent post was inspired by a conversation with a friend who works here) and meeting up with various friends over the years.

Since discovering AMK I’ve listened to as many of their tracks as I can find. They cover several other songs in English, of which I love their gutsy version of “Roxanne” by The Police, Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out of My Head,” Earth Wind and Fire’s “September,” and Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young.”

The majority of their songs, though, are performed in their native German. I can’t understand the lyrics at all, but I can certainly feel and respond to the emotion in such songs as “Katharina” and “Pocahontas.” I’m reminded of other foreign language songs I’ve enjoyed, including many of the recordings of Nana Mouskouri, “Je Voulais Te Dire Que Je T’attends” by Manhatten Transfer, Tolkien’s elven hymn “Namárië” as sung by Donald Swann, and the “French bits” of Blondie’s “Denis.”

Compassion and Understanding

On the surface, RØRY and AMK have very little in common. They nevertheless represent for me aspects of what I call vicarious living. As I wrote recently in Second-hand Experience, much of what I know about relationships, travel, and living with illness and trauma has been learned from other people.

Through her music and ADHD videos, Roxanne Emery shows me aspects of life I’ve never known personally. The music of AnnenMayKantereit evokes past experiences and people, but also opens me to things beyond my knowledge and understanding. In their different ways, both bands invite me to explore beyond my own lived experience.

As Fran and I were discussing the other day, when you’re confronted by other people’s experiences, especially those that confront or challenge you, you have a choice to make. You can reject them and turn away, or you can stay and do your best to listen, to learn, to grow in compassion and understanding. I’m grateful to RØRY and AMK for reminding me of this important lesson.

Over to You

In this post I’ve shared two bands I’ve recently discovered that mean a lot to me. Which musicians or bands speak most directly to you? Which songs or performances do you keep returning to? Who lives rent-free in your head? Who do you want to tell the world about? We’d love to hear from you, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by William White at Unsplash.

 

Self-Harm, Addiction, and Recovery: Thoughts Inspired by My Friend's 365 Day Milestone

This article was inspired by conversations with friends and colleagues, including Aimee Wilson of I’m NOT Disordered who recently shared on social media that she was a day away from celebrating one year free of self-harm. In addition to talking with Aimee about her achievement, in the past week I’ve spoken to two people beginning their respective journeys to shed unhealthy dependencies. One is working to break an addiction to sugar and unhealthy food. The other is determined to give up alcohol and nicotine. Despite very different situations and experiences, certain themes kept coming up, which I want to explore in this article. I should state up front that I have no first-hand experience of self-harm or addiction. My perspective is that of a caring and concerned outsider.

What Is Self-Harm and Is It Addictive?

Self-harm can take many forms. In the words of UK mental health charity Mind, “[s]elf-harm is when you hurt yourself as a way of dealing with very difficult feelings, painful memories or overwhelming situations and experiences.” In the charity’s words, “[o]nce you have started to depend on self-harm, it can take a long time to stop.” The Mental Health Foundation confirms that “[i]t is habit-forming, and some people believe you can become physically addicted to self-harm.” A friend with lived experience told me she definitely sees self-harm as addictive, especially if it is someone’s main or only coping strategy.

Respect and Understanding

When someone we care about engages in harmful practices, our instinctive response is to try and get them to stop. I’ve certainly felt that way in the past. The impulse is understandable, but it’s unlikely to help or be appreciated if it’s imposed without the person’s agreement, and without attempting to understand what led them there in the first place.

Unless the underlying issues are resolved or our loved ones find healthier ways to manage them, they may turn to self-harm again. This is not because they are “weak-willed” or lack what is sometimes still called “moral fibre.” I suspect people who use those terms have no idea what it means to be in such pain that self-harm appears the best or only step to take. Anyone who has been in that situation deserves respect, understanding, and support, not judgment or condemnation.

There’s No Single Road to Recovery

I’m unqualified to discuss how self-harm, addiction, or dependency are best addressed. I’ve included links to a number of organisations in the resources section at the end of this article. That said, it’s clear that no single strategy will be appropriate for everyone. I’m grateful to those who’ve shared with me approaches they’ve found helpful.

The protective effect of treatment for underlying health conditions, including mental health conditions, cannot be overstated. Aimee has written previously about how badly she was affected when one of her prescribed medications was stopped. Her safety was severely compromised until the error was identified and corrected. More generally, Aimee finds aspects of dialectical behavioural therapy (DBT) invaluable in keeping her safe.

Another friend used the Twelve Steps recovery programme when working with addictive behaviours in the past, and still finds it helpful. Under medical guidance, she’s started a new program to address her dependence on sugar/soda, caffeine, and unhealthy eating. She’s currently exploring whether a cold turkey approach, in which she attempts to give these things up all at once, will work for her, or if she’s better titrating herself down more gradually.

Fran and I have experienced our own struggles with weight and eating. We’ve learned how difficult it is to follow healthy strategies, and how complex our relationships to food and body image can be.

Whatever their situation, anyone working to change deep-seated behaviours deserves encouragement and support in doing so, recognising that it may take time to find something that works.

When the Time Is Right

Motivation and timing are hugely important in changing unhealthy habits and coping strategies. Perhaps we’ve reached a point in our lives when we feel we deserve to treat ourselves better. Maybe we’ve been advised to make lifestyle changes that mean reducing our dependence on things we’ve previously taken for granted. Perhaps self-harm or addiction is taking a serious toll on our physical and mental health. Whatever the impetus for change, the right time includes having appropriate support in place. This may include professional involvement. It certainly includes the non-judgmental support of trusted friends and family.

As I mentioned earlier, coercing someone into changing before they’re ready is unlikely to help in the long term. Self-harm might be the only control or agency a person feels they have in their lives. As unhealthy as that may be, prohibiting or preventing self-harm before realistic alternatives are available may do more harm than good. The exception to this is where there is a serious and immediate threat to health or life.

We Are All Dependent on Something

Most of us have unhealthy habits we indulge on a regular basis. Some, such as caffeine, smoking, and alcohol, are more socially acceptable than others, but they’re all unhealthy to some degree. We use them for the perceived benefits they bring, because they make us feel better, or help us manage the stresses in our lives.

I say this not to belittle the devastation that addiction and dependency can wreak, nor to equate my moderate drinking and coffee dependency with alcohol addiction, overdosing, cutting, or drug use. Rather, I believe that recognising our unhealthy behaviours, and how hard it can be to give them up, helps dispel the stigma attached to riskier and less socially acceptable behaviours.

Every Day Is a Victory

No matter how long or short a time has passed since someone self-harmed, smoked a cigarette, or took a drink or drugs, it’s worthy of respect, recognition, and celebration. Every day safe or dry or clean is a victory.

Aimee uses the tally and day counter app Teal to track her progress, and shared milestones with me from time to time. I celebrated with her on each occasion, recognising the effort it took and its significance. To me, each milestone is equally important. I’m as proud of her for staying free of self-harm for 365 days (and counting) as I was when it was one week, or ten days, or a month. In a few months, another friend will be three years free of self-harm. That is no more (and no less) an achievement as Aimee’s one-year milestone, or someone marking their first day of safety or sobriety.

Relapse Is Not Failure

The flip side to celebrating milestones is acknowledging that relapses happen. Making changes is hard, and it’s not uncommon to slip back into unhealthy patterns. It’s natural to feel you’ve failed yourself and others if that happens, but I’ve never felt my friends have failed themselves, or me, or anyone else. Quite the contrary. It takes enormous courage to acknowledge you’ve resorted to behaviours you’re trying to leave behind, to pick yourself up, and continue the journey. That’s the hallmark of a hero, not a failure.

Sharing Our Stories Matters

On a work call the other day with fellow Mental Health First Aiders, I mentioned that my friend had marked one year free from self-harm. It led to a couple of them sharing their stories. It was a telling reminder of how many of our friends, families, and colleagues deal with such things, or have done in the past. One colleague described how she successfully broke a long-term smoking addiction following a programme described by clinical hypnotherapist Max Kirsten.

Another shared how she used to self-harm on a daily basis because it was the only thing that helped her handle what she was dealing with at the time. I thanked them both for their honest and openness. For me there’s nothing as compelling as hearing someone tell their story. That was the motivation for the books Fran and I have written, and it’s the motivation for every article published on our blog.

Feed Hope Always

The stories my friends and colleagues shared were sometimes painful to hear but ultimately hopeful. No matter how difficult the journey may be, and despite setbacks and relapses, there is always hope. That said, success is by no means certain or necessarily permanent. Lacking lived experience I can only relate what others have told me, which is that you never completely recover from self-harm and addiction.

One friend said she feels she’s unlikely to resort to self-harm in the future because she’s developed more healthy coping strategies, but she can never be certain something won’t happen to overwhelm those strategies and push her towards self-harm again. Staying safe is a matter of ongoing vigilance.

Recognising this places a responsibility on all of us, to feed hope, and support others on their journey. Self-harm and suicidality are different, but as Fran and I describe in our book, we all have the capacity to help keep someone safe — or not.

Fran distinguishes suicide interrupters, “those who are able to defuse the suicide bomb,” and suicide aggravators. The latter are people who, consciously or unconsciously, impact her so adversely that suicide seems a viable choice.

A careless, ignorant, or judgmental remark can have consequences long after we’ve forgotten what we said. In a recent tweet, Aimee recalled how badly she’d been affected in the past by someone saying she would continue to self-harm. This person’s lack of belief in her potential for recovery led her to lose faith in herself. Fortunately, she was able to change her perspective. One year on, her success is a testament to her courage and determination. As she rightly said, “How wrong did I prove him?!!”

Afterword

Announcing her achievement on Twitter, Aimee invited her followers to imagine it was a year ago and they could give themselves one piece of wisdom or advice. I would tell the Marty of a year ago to take nothing for granted and to fight with all he has for the people who mean most to him. And above all, to remember to include himself in that list.

Resources

Mind self-harm page, with links to organisations including Harmless (user-led organisation that supports people who self-harm, and their friends and family), LifeSIGNS (user-led self-harm guidance and support network), National Self Harm Network (NSHN), and Samaritans.

NHS addiction page, with links to addiction services and help dealing with drug addiction, alcohol addiction, smoking and gambling.

NHS drug addiction: getting help.

NHS self-harm resources page, with links including Self Injury Support webchat (women and girls), and CALM webchat (men).

NHS quit smoking page.

Scottish Association for Mental Health (SAMH) page on self-harm.

The Truth About Self-Harm, leaflet (PDF) by Mental Health Foundation.

International helplines, suicide hotlines, and crisis-lines hosted at TherapyRoute.com.

For further information including help and crisis lines, see our resources page.

 

Photo by Fauzan Ardhi on Unsplash

 

LOST: A Short Film on Drug Addiction

By Sachit Grover

My motivation to make this series of films with the dance group STTM (Stories Told Through Movement) was the fact that there isn’t much talk about mental health within the South Asian community. Recently, Bollywood films like Dear Zindagi and Chhichhore have started talking about mental health, but it hasn’t been talked about in a mainstream fashion. I wanted to team up with STTM dance to have this talked about more publicly. We felt this collaboration would be beneficial given that we would be able to maximize our reach. A lot of people like dance videos while others prefer watching short films. We thought a combination of both would garner a larger audience.

In the first episode of LOST, Lea and Shruti are introduced. In this series, Lea is the daughter of Shruti and Vijay. The first episode focuses on a dance segment between Lea and Shruti to the song Aashiqui (The Love Theme). In this first episode, Shruti is a figment of Lea’s imagination. That’s why there are numerous cuts throughout the song (with and without Shruti).

In the second episode of LOST, Vijay is introduced and the family troubles are showcased. Vijay and Shruti fighting about Vijay’s drinking takes a toll on Lea and she feels like she is unable to live a normal life. Vijay also ruins the family dynamic since he turns to alcohol in every situation. The family has the chance to go to a family gathering, but Vijay ruins it by being drunk and ruining the food Shruti prepared for the event. Lea tries to tell her mom that she should stand up for herself against Vijay, but Shruti refuses. Shruti states that due to cultural norms, she can’t just leave Vijay. This is very commonplace in South Asian culture. Frustrated, Lea leaves the room while Shruti follows.

In the third episode of LOST, Lea and Shruti have another dance segment to the song Judaai. This song is used to show the growing tension in the family. After the song, Lea is shown struggling to keep up with the pressures of her chaotic family dynamic. Lea is shown going down the route of utilizing drugs to overcome her pain. Drug abuse is highlighted in this episode.

In the fourth and final episode of LOST, the family dynamic is further tainted. Lea then gets high and imagines what her life would be if their family was “normal.” After everything, all Lea can ask is “what if?” Basically, Lea is never given closure after going through this traumatic experience.

You can find the full series here.

To check out my work, subscribe to me on YouTube. You can also follow me on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

You can find STTM Dance on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram.

 

How to Deal with Early Recovery during the Pandemic

By Daniel Wittler

We are in the midst of a very difficult time. Covid-19 has taken away many of the luxuries we have in life and have taken for granted. Of course, many of these things are materialistic and possible to live without. There are certain groups of people that are being much more affected than most. I can’t tell you how many times a day I wonder how people in early recovery are doing while this is going on.

I think about myself in early recovery and there were days where the biggest thing I needed was to go to a meeting and talk to somebody about the giant funk I was in that day and what I could do about it. There is a lot of power in simply talking to one another in recovery. Someone in early recovery feeling trapped and stuck from the outside world is a terrifying thought.

Thankfully, with all of the advances of technology we are not truly alone. We are able to connect with our friends and family through internet/webcam services. Sure it’s not the same as being with someone in person but it sure is much better than being all alone! For those in early recovery, let’s go over some ways to still build your recovery.

Zoom / Skype meetings

A big trend has been online meetings for everyone stuck at home, I have even heard of IOP programs doing webcam meetings to keep everyone who is part of the program connected to each other and able to get therapy still. Let’s be real, the absolute worst for anyone in recovery, new or long-time, is to isolate and not talk to anybody. When we do that our minds begin to take over and things can get ugly quick. This is the last thing we want to happen.

The beauty of online meetings is that you can still hear a message of hope, and can also share the struggle of being stuck inside while trying to maintain your sobriety. Remember you are not the only person struggling in early recovery during this pandemic! Sometimes, sharing your struggle and hearing people relate to it really gives a great perspective and can help you get through the day.

Meditation / Affirmations

I am a big believer of starting your mornings with some type of ritual. For me personally, when I wake up, my head is filled up with a lot of negative thoughts. I don’t know what it is about sleep but my head becomes completely negative even after having a very positive day the day before.

For a long time in recovery I would just roll out of bed and head to work with little thought about getting in the right frame of mind. About a year ago I began waking up at least an hour and a half before work and practicing some things such as the following.

• Meditation — It is very simple to get started, but hard to master. Meditation means just getting your mind still and quiet for a small amount of time. The effect is extremely powerful and benefits range from peace of mind to major inspiration.
• Positive Affirmations — We can be our own worst enemies; sometimes it’s necessary to sit down and tell yourself what you like about yourself. Starting your morning by telling yourself what you like about yourself may sound silly, but it has a powerful effect.
• Pen and Paper — There is a lot of power in pen and paper. Get an empty notebook and after meditating sit and write anything you are inspired to. I’ll take a few minutes to write stuff down every morning. Sometimes it’s affirmations, other times it’s my plan for the day. It can be anything that you feel like doing. It’s a simple and powerful tool; make it your own.

Find Your Gratitude

Gratitude does not come to most of us naturally, unfortunately. I am very prone to self-centered and negative thoughts. Once we get sober and develop some self-awareness, we must catch ourselves in that negative state of mind and pause. When you pause, think about what you are truly grateful for now that you are sober.

To be perfectly blunt, imagine how much harder it would be to continue your addiction during this whole pandemic crisis. The fact that you made the decision to get sober in an extremely troubling and scary time should be something that gives you a real boost. Remind yourself of what you are grateful for throughout the day, even if it’s the same handful of things. Reflecting on gratitude is like a shot of positivity every time we go over it.

Above all during this troubling time, remember that you are absolutely not alone. Do what you need to do and go that extra mile to strengthen your recovery. Whether it’s reaching out to people on the phone or online all day, developing a nice practice and ritual for yourself or simply focusing on what you are grateful for. Every new day sober should feel like a new victory, every tough moment you survive will strengthen your soul. You can do this.

About the Author

Daniel Wittler is a writer in recovery and mental health advocate. He has been living with depression since he was a teenager and has found ways to live and thrive with it. Daniel is a regular contributor to Pax Riverbend.

Photo credit: Dustin Belt via Unsplash.

 

Managing My Dual Diagnosis on a Day to Day Basis

By Kailey Fitzgerald

Being in recovery from drug addiction and having a mental illness concurrently can be extremely mentally taxing. On my off days, when I am not keeping up with my daily routines and neglect my self-care mechanisms, my life can seem chaotic and unmanageable. I often say it feels like I am just constantly putting out one fire after another. On the other hand, when I do manage my dual diagnosis well, I am truly happy.

Finding coping mechanisms and a healthy daily routine that worked for me took a lot of time and effort through trial and error. What may work for one person, may not work for another. It wasn’t until I went to an addiction treatment center and began true, honest, and rigorous therapy that I finally found what worked for me.

Go to Therapy Regularly

Going to therapy and giving it a real, honest shot is what saved my life. For years I was repulsed by laying down on some brown over-sized couch and telling some stranger with a medical degree all of the reasons my life sucked. To my surprise, I learned that real therapy is not like what you see on TV. My therapist treated me like a human and really allowed me the time and pace I needed to begin to open up to him.

In therapy, I learned many valuable coping mechanisms that I incorporate into my day to day life. For example, I suffer from a couple of anxiety disorders. When I begin to have a PTSD flashback or an anxiety attack, my therapist recommended I ground myself through breathing techniques. I try to apply this and when I do, it typically helps in centering my body and mind enough to get through the flashbacks and anxiety attacks.

That being said, after a few therapy sessions I began to feel better. In my own naivety, I thought that meant I was recovered and could stop attending therapy. The first few weeks were great, I had more financial freedom and more free time on my hands. Quickly I realized I had made a mistake when I ran into one of my PTSD triggers and had a complete meltdown. Luckily, I was able to make the conscious decision to admit my wrongs and call my therapist to resume our biweekly appointments.

Maintain the Sobriety Aspect of My Recovery

It is extremely important for me to maintain my sobriety in concurrence with the treatment of my secondary mental illnesses. This means continuing to participate in the fellowship I chose, utilizing my meditation practices, keeping in contact with my sober support, and remaining diligent in monitoring whether I begin to romanticize drug use or old habits. The combination of all of these practices is what allows me to remain sober without becoming a “dry drunk”. Dry drunks are defined as people who are chemically sober but behave in the same manner that they did while they were using. For example, if I stopped maintaining my sobriety I would begin to become easily agitated and unable to control my emotions — causing me to resort to fantasizing about using a substance to numb my feelings.

For all intents and purposes, let’s just say I let the maintenance of my sobriety slip. I become discontented with my life, the people around me, and the fact that I have to abstain from using drugs. This would begin to affect my secondary mental illness because I am already slipping into a dark place. With the combination of my unmanaged sobriety and the symptoms of my anxiety disorders beginning to intensify, it would be extremely hard and maybe even impossible for me to remain sober. So, keeping that in mind, I do the best that I can in order to maintain my sobriety every day.

Remember That Recovery Is Not Linear

Recovery from any ailment takes time. Some days you will progress, while some days you may backslide. It is important to remember not to beat yourself up when you have an off day. When recovering from dual-diagnosis mental illnesses, these off days may happen more often than you’d like. I remember at the beginning of my recovery, everything was seemingly perfect. I had the desperation and time to do everything in my power to maintain my substance abuse recovery and my anxiety disorder recovery. As time went on, I regained responsibilities that left me with less time to pursue my recovery. This meant that life began to become increasingly difficult.

In order to balance my recovery, work, family and my social life I had to readjust my expectations. In addition, I needed to gain confidence in my recovery. I had built a strong foundation of life skills, coping mechanisms, and a support network that could carry me on my “off days”. When I had less time to make meetings or therapy sessions, I would call a sober friend to give me advice or just lend a listening ear. Initially, I felt guilty that I wasn’t doing as much as I had been in early recovery. But, despite my guilt, the truth was that I was still doing everything in my power to maintain my recovery. We get sober and recover from our mental illnesses in order to build a life worth living. Once I realized that my guilt dissipated. All of these responsibilities that I thought were taking away from my recovery were, in fact, the gifts of recovery.

About the Author

Kailey Fitzgerald is a young writer in the recovery community. She has found passion in writing for websites like Discovery Transitions, who work to spread awareness and break stigmas in relation to recovery from addiction and mental illness. She has found this passion through recovering from her own dual-diagnosis and attempting to help others do the same.

 

How Letting Go Saved my Life

By Maya Kelley

My childhood was not an easy one, despite my mother’s efforts to keep me safe. I grew up in a loving home, was provided with everything I needed, and was exceptionally bright from an early age. Even with being provided the best foundation I could have to excel in life, I turned down a path of self-destruction. I was filled with hatred for myself, mistrust towards others, and a general apathetic outlook towards life.

Early Childhood Trauma

At around the age of seven, I was mauled by my family dog. I slipped and fell, let out a high-pitched scream, and the dog’s prey drive must have kicked in. This incident left me nearly dead, with scars all over my face and neck. I was happy while I was in the hospital; I got to participate in arts and crafts while I recovered with my loved ones around me. Once I went back to school, the kids were not as welcoming. I was bullied for the scars on my face which left me with extremely low self-esteem at a young and impressionable age. I was lacking in self-worth before I even hit my teen years, all because I would not allow myself to process what had happened to me.

As I began to get older, my behavior started to worsen. At about the age of thirteen, I started attending parties with people who were older than me. I fell in love with the way that alcohol and xanax seemed to take away all of my insecurities, even if it was just for the night. The flashbacks from my dog attack would go away, I would forget about my scars, and I finally felt “a part of” when I was surrounded by other people partying.

At a 4th of July party, I binge-drank and took xanax to the point of passing out. The next morning, I was told that an older man took advantage of me while I was blacked out, and in result stole my virginity from me. Finding out that I had been a victim of sexual assault at the age of thirteen only made me want to self-medicate even further. I was too ashamed to talk to my parents about what had happened to me because I blamed myself. I thought that since I allowed myself to become vulnerable, that it was all my own fault. I didn’t stop to consider that I was only thirteen years old and my abuser was in his mid-twenties.

A Downward Spiral

The weekend turned into weekdays, nights turned into mornings, and I was constantly in an altered state. I could not go longer than just a few hours without getting high or drinking. I had developed extreme PTSD and anxiety from my unresolved trauma, which made me feel like I could not live without a substance in my body. In reality, I was just making my symptoms worsen over time and prolonging my road to recovery. Emotionally, I was either withdrawn or completely unhinged; I had no in between. I began to self-mutilate just so that I could feel something other than emptiness.

Eventually, the drugs stopped working. I could not get high anymore, my symptoms were extremely loud, and I wanted to die. I felt like my life wasn’t worth anything. I dropped out of school when I turned sixteen, began to sell drugs or even myself just to get my fix, and I had absolutely no purpose in life; or so I thought. I had allowed my morals to become nonexistent and pushed away all of the people in my life who truly loved me.

Letting Go and Beginning to Recover

When I realized I could not bring myself to take my life, I asked my mom for help. I decided that I had no idea how to fix things on my own and agreed to go to treatment where I would safely be transitioned into a sober individual, while going through trauma therapy. I always thought that therapy was for weak people, but once I finally allowed myself to give it a try, I realized that it actually took a strong person to be able to admit they have a problem and begin to face it. In therapy, I learned how to accept the things that happened to me and to use my experiences to help others heal; giving me a purpose in life that I had craved for so long.

With my newfound sobriety, I began to meet people from all different types of backgrounds who shared the same emotions, thought processes, and ideas as me. I began to feel that sense of being “a part of” that I had not felt since my first time getting high, except this time it felt different because I knew it came from a place of love and authenticity. I began to learn who I really was as a person and also learned how to love myself through the help of fellowship. My problem was control. I needed to learn how to let go of the past and future so that I could be in the present moment, enjoying life to the fullest extent.

Today, I am extremely happy for the first time in my life. I have genuine friendships, intimate relationships that I was never capable of having before, and I do not regret one part of my story; my past has shaped me into the woman I am today, and for that I will be forever grateful.

About the Author

Maya Kelley is a writer for Agape Treatment Center, a drug and mental health rehabilitation center in South Florida. She is passionate about spreading awareness on sexual assault, childhood trauma, and addiction.

 

My Journey Through Mental Illness, Addiction, and Recovery

By Kailey Fitzgerald

Growing up, I always felt like I didn’t fit in; I felt like I was a little off when compared to my peers. I had this terrible and seemingly constant feeling in the pit of my stomach when I would try to talk to other kids, and a ringing voice in my head that told me I wasn’t good enough. When I would accomplish something, I would find the reasons that it didn’t amount to anything and head down on a path of self-destruction.

Everything appeared perfect from the outside, but from the inside, I was absolutely falling apart. I managed to maintain until I was around twelve years old. I started to have violent emotional outbursts that I couldn’t seem to control, and it began to affect my relationship with my mom. She noticed that I wasn’t behaving normally and decided to send me to a psychiatrist. At first, when I was diagnosed with Intermittent explosive disorder and social anxiety I thought my whole life was over. I was only twelve years old and society had led me to believe that having any sort of mental disorder meant I was clinically insane; I was ashamed.

The medication my psychiatrist had prescribed me seemed to only make me worse, I began having suicidal thoughts and had socially withdrawn completely. My relationship with my mother was almost nonexistent and she was distraught. My explosive episodes were even more frequent, tearing apart any friendship or relationship I had left. I felt helpless because I didn’t want to respond to people in such anger, but I literally had no tools to control myself. My hopelessness led me to drugs. I began hanging out with an older crowd and attending highschool parties in order to find any substance available to calm the voices in my head.

For a while, the drugs helped me — or so I thought. To my friends and family, I seemed to be doing well. No one had any idea that I was drinking, smoking weed, and taking Xanax in order to attempt to quiet my anxiety and control my violent emotional outbursts. What I didn’t realize was that every time I took in a substance I was just covering up my issues and letting them fester over time, and as if that wasn’t enough, I was developing a drug addiction.

My addiction led me down an even darker path; abusive men, withdrawals, violence, and incomprehensible demoralization all became my new normal. I watched myself become a shell of a person and all the while, I couldn’t care enough to save myself. Eventually, I grew such a tolerance to the drugs I was using that they weren’t getting me high anymore. When I wasn’t high, I wasn’t numb, and all of my emotions came back with a vengeance. I spiraled so far out of control that I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and I FINALLY asked my mom for help.

Considering half of my family were members of Alcoholics Anonymous, they knew exactly what I needed. My mom enrolled me into a dual-diagnosis treatment center, which helped me learn to cope with the mental disorders I was suffering from and allowed me to overcome my addiction safely. I have found a life that allows me to not feel ashamed of my mental illnesses or my history of drug addiction. Going to treatment gave me the tools I needed to live my life peacefully, provided me with a group of friends who have gone through similar things as me, and has given me the strength to continue fighting when my mental illness may creep back up.

About the Author

Kailey Fitzgerald is a writer in recovery from PTSD, Anxiety, IED, and drug addiction. She is passionate about spreading the word and breaking stigmas regarding mental illness and addiction. She writes for The Discovery House, a treatment center in California.

 

Fighting the Stigma of Addiction and Mental Illness

By Cassidy Webb

In recovery I see a lot of people go in and out. Unfortunately, not everyone makes it back. I’ve lost a lot of friends to addiction and I’ve watched even more of them struggle with their mental health. I’ve watched mental illness take over the minds of good people to the point where it drives them back to the needle or the bar. When it’s somebody close to me, I just want to shake them. I want to shake the misery, the despair, and the fear right out of them. I want them to get well. I want them to get the help that they deserve. However, I can’t do that. I’m not that powerful.

Growing up I was told to sit quietly and look pretty. Sharing my emotions was frowned upon, and when I did, I felt judged. I felt like the outcast whom nobody understood. I became a master at shoving my emotions down until they became too much to bear. I would then break down in major depressive episodes. As a teenager, I found solace in drugs and alcohol. I didn’t have to feel anything except pure bliss if I was drunk or high.

The lack of ability to cope with my emotions and substance abuse eventually spiraled into dangerous heroin addiction and severe depression. I had lost the will to live because I was too afraid of what people would think if I asked for help. Before addiction, I was an honor roll student and had my whole life ahead of me. I didn’t want to be seen as a failure. I didn’t want to be judged.

I tried to take my own life, promising myself that if I woke up, I would go to treatment. Treatment was my last resort because I didn’t know that it was possible to be happy. I didn’t know anything about addiction or recovery. I just thought I was insane.

I was one of the lucky ones. I went to treatment once, got diagnosed with depression, learned how to cope with it appropriately, and followed the path I needed to follow to stay sober. Unfortunately, not everybody’s path is the same.

I remember my first day in treatment because I was terrified. I was surrounded by people who were astonished to find out that it was my first time in rehab. Some of them had been to over fifteen facilities and still couldn’t stay sober. Honestly, it was really discouraging. As somebody who knew nothing about mental illness or recovery, I felt like I was doomed to live a life where I was in and out of dual diagnosis treatment centers. A lot of my peers made it seem like getting sober and staying sober was impossible.

Despite this discouragement, I was determined. I didn’t do everything right — after all, I’m human and what makes me human is the fact that I make mistakes. The difference was that I learned from my mistakes and turned them into opportunities for growth. In learning from my mistakes I also embraced transparency. I set my pride aside and I admitted when I was wrong. I sought the opinions from others on how to fix it and I set out to make my wrongs right.

When I celebrated a year sober, I stood in front of both the alumni and the current clients at my treatment center. Some people I was in treatment with were still sober, others were back in treatment. I didn’t condemn them but rather gave them words of encouragement. I wanted to show the people who had been stuck on this relapse rollercoaster that they didn’t have to use again. I wanted to show the people who were in treatment for the first time, feeling as scared as I was, that they can do what I did, too. I wanted all of them to know that, although it may feel like it, this isn’t the end of the road. It doesn’t have to be.

If I could just shake these people who I see struggling and make them ask for help I would. If I could expand mental health resources to be accessible to everybody I would do it in a heartbeat. However, the only thing I can do is use the voice I have been given to share the experience that I can have. If my vulnerability affects just one person, then I have achieved my purpose as a woman in recovery.

When the mental illness goes untreated in the midst of addiction recovery, it often leads people back out to relapse. When it comes to treating addiction, I believe that it is absolutely imperative to address mental health too. After all, nearly half of those who suffer from addiction also have a co-occurring mental illness. Failing to recognize this is doing those who want to get better a major disservice. On the other hand, failing to speak up and talk about mental health is an even bigger disservice.

I believe that the first step in destigmatizing people who suffer from co-occurring disorders is to talk about it from a first-hand perspective. It is absolutely crucial to share those dirty secrets that we hold on to and it is absolutely necessary to acknowledge the times when we fall short. It’s important for those who are struggling to feel comfortable in asking for help and feel comfortable talking to others about the thoughts that run through their heads. By being completely transparent and brutally honest, we allow others to relate to us. We allow others to see that they aren’t alone.

By withholding the truth, we not only suffer in silence ourselves, but we enable others to suffer in silence. This type of suffering is the worst kind because when it comes to mental health and addiction, it can mean life or death. Most of all, we must demonstrate to others that despite how dark the past is, there can be light in the future.

About the Author

Cassidy Webb is an avid writer who works with JourneyPure to spread awareness around the disease of addiction. Her passion in life is to help others by sharing her experience, strength, and hope. You can find her and read more of her work on Twitter.

 

The Stranger on the Bridge and Other Stories of Friendship and Support

Photo: Vikki Beat

In the latest of our Bloggers’ Days Out, fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson and I attended Stranger on the Bridge and Other Stories of Friendship and Support at George Street Social in Newcastle.

George Street Social is an alcohol-free bar and café run by the Road to Recovery Trust which offers hope and support to people in recovery from addiction problems.

We were among the first to arrive and were greeted warmly by Lucy Nichol who I first met last year at the launch of her book A Series of Unfortunate Stereotypes. Lucy is a trustee and marketing and communications lead for the Road to Recovery Trust, and chaired the event.

Photo: Martin Baker

The first to speak was Paula Cowie who is also a Road to Recovery trustee. Paula shared her lived experience and how important the Trust and George Street Social are to the local community.

Matthew Smith from the If U Care Share Foundation went next. He spoke with great honesty and openness about his older brother Daniel who took his life at the age of nineteen, and the impact his death has had on him to this day. The devastating experience led Daniel’s family to found If U Care Share.

“Our aim is to prevent anyone feeling the pain we felt as a family when we lost Daniel. We truly believe that talking can save lives.” (Shirley Smith, If U Care Share founder and Daniel’s mother)

Third to speak was Jonny Benjamin MBE. I imagine most of us at the event knew the story of how a passing stranger stopped Jonny from taking his life in 2008:

The Stranger on the Bridge, which was made into a book and a documentary film, tells the story of how, having been recently diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, Jonny stood on London’s Waterloo Bridge and prepared to take his own life. That was until a stranger walking across the bridge talked Jonny down from the edge.

Jonny was immediately taken to hospital and didn’t see the stranger again, but, with the support of the charity Rethink Mental Illness, he launched the #FindMike campaign, to track the stranger down. The campaign reached over 300 million people worldwide and eventually led to Neil Laybourn — the man who saved Jonny’s life.

Hearing Jonny talk about what happened on the bridge was intensely moving for me, as I’m sure it was for everyone in the room. He spoke of Neil holding space, of his being engaged and “invested.” Above all it was Neil’s positivity and lack of judgement that made the difference, as well as him telling Jonny there was no need to be embarrassed. This stranger’s acceptance, compassion, and simple humanity saved Jonny’s life.

The final speaker was Ashley Lowe, Wellbeing Manager at Newcastle United Foundation. Ashley spoke passionately about the Foundation’s wellbeing programme, their Be A Game Changer campaign, and why the football community is a great place to support your mates.

Photo: Vikki Beat

After questions from the audience there was an opportunity to meet the speakers. Lucy told me more about the events programme at George Street Social, including an upcoming evening at which she and fellow Trigger Publishing authors Mark Edwards and Paula McGuire will share their personal mental health experiences and discuss the inspiration behind their books.

Jonny and I spoke for a good while, exploring the evening’s themes of support and friendship. I told him about me and Fran, our book, and how we support each other despite being three thousand miles apart. I could easily have talked with him for hours but there were other people waiting, Aimee included. There was just time for a photo (thanks, Vikki!)

I apologised to Aimee later for monopolising Jonny’s time and for manoeuvring myself ahead of her in the queue. All I can offer in my defence is that I learned how to engage confidently with people from Aimee herself on our first Bloggers’ Day Out at Newcastle’s Life Science Centre:

Aimee is bolder than I am and I was fascinated to see how she engaged with people I might simply have nodded to in passing.

Seeing how Aimee engaged with people reminded me that you can never tell who you might meet or where a chance encounter might lead. Being passionate about your own work and interested in other people opens doors and possibilities.

All in all the evening more than lived up to its promise of being “an inspirational event for anyone interested in, experiencing or supporting someone with a mental health problem.”

You can read Aimee’s article inspired by the event on her blog I’m NOT Disordered.

Links

The Road to Recovery Trust
www.roadtorecoverytrust.org.uk

If U Care Share Foundation
www.ifucareshare.co.uk

Jonny Benjamin
jonnybenjamin.co.uk
The Stranger on the Bridge: My Journey from Suicidal Despair to Hope

Newcastle United Foundation
nufoundation.org.uk

 

Anxiety is Addictive

By Sarah Fader

In a funny way, anxiety can be addictive. It’s something about that rush, that feeling that you are high on adrenaline even if it’s a negative feeling. You get used to running on anxiety autopilot and you want to keep that ship going.

You are accustomed to panicking; you leave things to the last minute so that you can get that energy rush in order to make it happen faster. That's the weird thing about mental illness, it can work for you instead of against you and it's unpredictable when it will do that. Being aware and talking about what you're dealing with is essential to coping with mental health issues.

Back to anxiety; when I was in college I used to wait until the last minute to do my term papers because I felt like that adrenaline was something that was going to help me. Now I know that it’s not necessarily helpful but actually makes me more anxious and can harm my mental health.

Still, there is this addictive quality to panic. Even though legitimate panic attacks are an awful feeling and we don’t want to feel them if possible, there is something to be said for anxiety being a motivator to achieve things. Anxiety is excess energy and even though it is sometimes extremely unpleasant it can push us the point of completion of tasks.

There are other times when anxiety does not help us get things done but rather furthers your fear of your self and anxiety, to begin with.

I’m trying to catch myself when I am procrastinating doing a task that I don’t want to do. It’s a difficult pattern to break but I know that in the end even with anxiety feeling addictive it’s not worth that pain and anguish I feel when I’m trying so desperately to finish something at the last minute.

So what about you? Do you leave things to the last minute because you’re so used to doing them that way or do you plan and not given to the addictive quality of anxiety? If you do, think about changing this and see if it helps you feel a little bit better.

About the Author

Sarah Fader is the CEO and Founder of Stigma Fighters, a non-profit organization that encourages individuals with mental illness to share their personal stories. She has been featured in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Atlantic, Quartz, Psychology Today, The Huffington Post, HuffPost Live, and Good Day New York.

Sarah is a native New Yorker who enjoys naps, talking to strangers, and caring for her two small humans and two average-sized cats. Like six million other Americans, Sarah lives with panic disorder. Through Stigma Fighters, Sarah hopes to change the world, one mental health stigma at a time. www.sarahfader.com

 

My Journey Through Anxiety, Depression, and the People That Changed My Life, by Jay Chirino

Nine years old. That was my age when I experienced my first depressive episode. Some people throughout the years have told me that this is impossible; no nine-year-old, especially one with a good family and loving parents, has a reason to be depressed. It still bothers me sometimes when people willingly display blatant ignorance on a subject that they are not experts on. But through the years I have learned to overcome the frustration and I’ve utilized whatever resources I’ve had at my disposal to inform and educate those that really want to have a better understanding of the mental struggles that so many of us, of any age, are challenged with every single day.

The truth is that, at the time, not even my parents believed that there was anything seriously wrong with me. They thought that my severe dislike for school had drove me to implementing new and creative ways of staying home. Yes, I did loathe school and the anxiety that dealing with the kids and the teachers brought me, but I would have chosen that burden any day over the hell that I was unexpectedly going through.

You see, I woke up one morning and my world had turned completely black and white. There were no signs of color, or optimism, or hope. There wasn’t anything to look forward to, anything to smile about. I began to question my reality and my reason for being. I started to convince myself that there was no purpose to life, that I was just a piece of breathing flesh that would bounce around the world for a few years and then begin to rot, just like everyone else. There was no reason to put one foot in front of the other and do anything; everything was useless, nothing would change the inevitable outcome. Except for the occasional trip to the toilet that would ensure that my bedsheets stayed dry, I did not much else than lay in bed, slightly more alive than dead.

I think it was about a week later that my parents began to take things more seriously, not seeing any progress on my behalf. The questions they started to ask had evolved from the basic, run-of-the-mill stuff, like, why can’t you just snap out of this, you have your entire life ahead of you! or the classic, what do you mean you don’t know why you feel like this? There must be a reason! Even though their concern was growing and they were taking me more seriously, they still refused to get me professional help. In their eyes, taking me to a psychiatrist meant that I was crazy, and I wasn’t crazy, just really, really sad. So, they resorted to the only thing they knew; prayer, bible passages, a strong effort at increasing my faith in God. Although the comfort of knowing that a higher power cares and pays attention can definitely be reassuring, in my case, at least, it wasn’t enough. I spent over a month bathed in deep sadness and worthlessness, not much else. No school, little food, no personal care, no positive thoughts, no optimism, no hope. I was basically a vegetable that entire time, and please remember, I was nine.

Then, just like it all had begun, without warning or explanation, it all started to gradually dissipate, and I could see a faint beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get me feeling better. When I was able to finally get out of bed and re-incorporate myself into society, we all thought the worst was now behind me, and boy, were we wrong.

The anxiety that had always plagued me (even before the depressive episode) began to get bigger and stronger, almost like a monster that is getting well fed on a daily basis. By the time I got to high school that monster had gotten so strong that I was getting an average of three panic attacks per week. Mornings were the worst; having to wake up and get ready, physically and emotionally, to face the day ahead was a monumental undertaking. My heart would palpitate vigorously and sweat would engulf my hands. I even became proficient at a little swallowing exercise that I taught myself to avoid regurgitating, although the truth is that it wouldn’t work one hundred percent of the time. I was constantly afraid, constantly alone. Interacting with classmates was nearly impossible, being social was not an option, neither was enjoying school. When I got home all I could think about was the dread of the next day. It was constant torture, something I could not escape. I lived in a prison of my own mind and did not know how to break free. I eventually accepted the fact that this was going to be my life; this was something I would have to deal with for the rest of my days, until I died.

And then alcohol came in the picture.

I still remember my first drink: a cup of chilled, sweet sangria. I chugged the whole thing, thinking that you were supposed to drink it just like any other refreshing drink, to the dismay of the people around me. Needless to say, the buzz came on pretty fast, and it was as glorious as if God himself was reaching down from above and caressed my back with his hand, while assuring me that everything was going to be ok. The fear that I had carried with me all those years disappeared, my insecurities went away, the way I saw the world gained bright colors. I knew I wanted to feel like this all the time, and from that moment on I worked hard at making that desire a reality.

Fast-forward a few years and there you have me, two broken marriages, plenty of lost jobs, no money, no future and still no hope. My physical health was declining and my mental stability was gone. I was now a full-blown drug addict and alcoholic, and the only thing that made me happy was the prospect of my next buzz.

Twenty-five years after my parents first refused to take me to the doctor, they now begged me to seek professional help, and when your mother gets on her knees, with tears in her eyes and begs, you have no choice but to oblige.

They took me to a nearby hospital with a well-known psychiatric unit. I was there for five days, five days that changed my life in immeasurable ways. First, I learned that I was not broken beyond repair, and with the right therapy and medications I could thrive and succeed. Second, it was there where I realized that I wasn’t alone. I met so many wonderful people that had gone through similar things or worse, much, much worse. Yet there they were, fighting, doing their best to survive. I learned a lot from them, not only from their illnesses, but from their incredible hearts. I came out of that hospital a changed man, and I have to give those patients a lot of credit for that.

Fast-forward another few years and there I was, sober, employed and happy, but those patients would not escape my mind. It was as if they were asking me for help; they needed me in some way. They were screaming out but no one could hear. They had something to say, but no one cared. Then it hit me.

I needed to give them a voice.

“The Flawed Ones” is the story that I share with the wonderful people that I once met, people with considerable mental deficiencies and even bigger hearts, people that I feel fortunate were a part of my life and my recovery, people that I now present to you in my novel, and that I hope will have a similar impact on you as they did on me. For the first time in my life, I have hope.

These are “The Flawed Ones.”

 

About the Author

Jay is an author, mental health advocate and recovering addict, who spent over ten years battling his demons. Today he focuses on sharing his story and the story of others like him in order to create awareness and help eradicate the stigma that has always surrounded mental illness. He lives in Tampa, FL with Ana, his cat.

You can connect with Jay on his website/blog, also on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

You can find his book The Flawed Ones on Goodreads.