Who here felt that their mental health suffered during lockdown? You did!?!? ME FUCKING TOO!
So let's talk about it, but first make sure you stick the kettle on, none of this microwaved tea bullshit I saw that American lady doing, that was fucking CRIMINAL!
Got your cuppa and some biscuits? (Cookies for those slower kids at the back) Good! then let's begin :)
THE VIRUS
Who would have thought that the first 'nuclear winter' we'd step out into wouldn't be because China or Russia had bombed us? I honestly imagined that one day I'd step out of my house and be confronted with dust, rubble and bodies everywhere. Never in my wildest dreams could I have expected that a virus, with a width 1/1000 of a human hair (Less if your hair resembles Homer Simpson's) could cause such widespread damage and destruction. I came home from work with a sore throat and slight temperature in March, and here I am almost 4 months later just starting to take my first tentative steps outside of my bubble.
It soon became apparent that I didn't have COVID-19 but I had to continue to isolate just in case, and as I sat at home obsessing over the news reports and social media I had no idea how deeply this whole affair would scar me mentally. Initially I was swept along with the "It's no worse than flu" virus deniers, but I was wrong. Some people (read that as Kelly) will delight in me admitting I was wrong, it doesn't happen often, but here I was.......
As the death toll began to rise I received an email from work confirming that I was allowed to shield from the virus due to health concerns such as diabetes, a dodgy heart and the fact that I am still hugely overweight. I took this opportunity to stay safe, but I never really contemplated or expected the full frontal assault that would beging on my mental health by being locked away.
Initially I was happy enough homeschooling Charlie, watching movies and playing CoD on the xbox, but I was sinking, and I never really realised it. To begin with I could shrug off the fact that I'd have to step outside and confront something that has now killed almost 600,000 people (Probably more because China DEFINITELY lied about their death count) You know, I had 12 weeks off, I was safe as I'd be at home cut off from the outside world.
But being cut off was a disaster, I never appreciated the micro interactions I had with people in my daily life. Shaking a friend or colleague's hand when I saw them, giving out a big Dave hug to people when I could see they needed somebody to show them that things are ok, it was all gone in the blink of an eye (or an uncovered sneeze)
As the days ticked by I started to really feel isolated, even though I had my family with me. Days turned to weeks and I got closer and closer to a return to work, and that's when I had what I can only describe as my first ever panic attack. I found it hard to breathe, my mind raced at a million miles an hour, I was about to be thrown into the lion's den so to speak.
I mean I'd not even been able to sit and talk to my mum and dad for 12 weeks, we had to drive their shopping off and leave it on their doorstep so they could avoid getting too close to us, and here I was, about to be sent back to a building with hundreds of strangers wandering past me, coughing, sneezing, not wearing masks and failing to use hand gel to kill the virus.
It sent me into a spiral, I ended up back at the Doctor's office and he prescribed me new medication and signed me off of work due to mixed anxiety and depression syndrome. I felt like such a failure, like all of the hard work I had done to get myself back to 'normality' had unraveled right before my eyes, and worse still I felt no inclination to stop it.
I am due back at work in 10 days, I am terrified about returning. I will go on record and say that the company I work for have been AMAZING, my manager has been incredibly understanding, and I am grateful for these things. But I'm now at an impasse, I can either take a 3 month career break with no pay, or I can return to something that literally makes me cry when I consider it. Being stuck between these options absolutely sucks, I can't afford to not be paid, but I'm mentally nowhere near ready to return, which of course sends me deeper into my thoughts, and that's not a good place to be right now.
Why did I write this? Possibly to self therapise myself, but I also wanted people to know that they aren't alone. Even 6'4" lumps like me get upset, we get scared, we cry. It's all natural, it's all healthy, because if we charged headlong into everything without contemplation or caution we'd all be dead before we turned 3 years old.
If anybody is struggling, you know where I am, you know how open I am, so come and talk to me. Use messenger, whatsapp, phone, fuck it even messenger pigeon, I want to be there for you.
Stay strong.
Much love,
Dave xx
