A bit brave

These final words of the film ‘The Soloist’, spoken by Robert Downey Junior, moved me to tears and epitomise the bravery shown by people with mental health issues and those who try to support them.   A year ago I met a man who was down on his luck and thought I might be able to help him. I don’t know that I have. Yes, my friend Mr. Ayres now sleeps inside. He has a key. He has a bed. But his mental state and his wellbeing are as precarious now as they were the day we met. There are people who tell me I have helped him. Mental health experts who say that the simple act of being someone’s friend can change his brain chemistry and improve his functioning in the world. I can’t speak for Mr. Ayres in that regard. Maybe our friendship has helped him but maybe not. I can however speak for myself. I can tell you that by witnessing Mr. Ayres' courage, his humility, his faith in the power of his art, I’ve earned the dignity of being loyal to something you believe in. Above all else, I

As the weeks went by I developed an uneasy truce with my mind. Once in role at school, my anxiety left me alone but would return at other times to haunt me. Short breaks, family visits, and exercise helped me cope with the difficult moments and keep on top of things. In the twelve years, I was a Headteacher, I was off work only twice, both for three months. The second time was after I’d spent the six weeks summer holiday in the bone marrow unit in Pendlebury Hospital while Isaac was having his bone marrow transplant. I returned to school, feeling utterly exhausted, to face an Ofsted inspection. The school was given an outstanding verdict and I was praised for my leadership. I told my staff that I would need a couple of weeks to recover but was off for three months. Having done all I could to improve the school and knowing that my daughter would need help with Isaac, I decided to retire. At 55 and physically fit I looked forward to a long retirement, new challenges, and a chance to de

On an evening, the anxiety would return. I was a different person. No longer the confident headteacher, just a man with anxiety. Thinking about what I had to do was more frightening than actually getting on and doing it. I would often say to myself, ‘How will I get through tomorrow feeling like this?’ Of course, I always managed because I was able to rise to the occasion and put the fear to one side. This took every fibre of my being but I was determined to succeed. At home I felt brain dead. It was almost impossible to concentrate, so at about seven o’clock I would use a relaxation tape, which quickly allowed me to sleep for an hour. I became quite good at these relaxation techniques and after a few weeks, when I woke up in the night I could use them to fall back to sleep. This was a massive help because at the beginning, I would fall asleep at midnight totally exhausted, only to wake up after an hour and then not sleep again for the remainder of the night. I became very good at p

I had no idea how long I would be able to continue as a Headteacher, given the problems I was dealing with. I did what many people with mental health issues do. I took one day at a time. I would begin each day at school feeling anxious. I had to speak slowly and carefully to hide my anxiety and when at my worst, would use techniques I had learned, to calm my body and hence my mind. There was much to do to make the innovations needed to improve the school and this was an enormous help in distracting me from my illness. As the day went on, absorbed in my work, I would begin to feel better. In one sense, I was running ahead of my anxiety. Keeping busy was my way of coping with my feelings. I realise now that this wasn’t necessarily a good coping mechanism but it allowed me to keep going. I was doing a challenging job but a worthwhile one. This was good for my self-esteem and kept me buoyant. I had good support from two very capable deputies but there was a really big job to do and I k

It’s mental health week, so this is a good time for me to talk about my life and my struggle with depression and anxiety. My life has been, as the football commentator says, a game of two halves. Until I was forty-four, I had no mental health problems and I dealt with some very difficult periods in my life quite successfully. I had two lovely and loving daughters, one at University and one taking ‘A levels’.   I had first-class honours from Loughborough College and taught P.E., Maths, and history and early promotions allowed me to become a head of a large department at the age of twenty-six. After a few years, I became bored with my job and felt I needed new challenges. To move into management I was advised to take an academic degree and so spent a number of year taking a ‘B.A.’ with the Open University. At thirty-eight, I became a deputy head in a large comprehensive school and with my ambition to eventually become a headteacher I attended Leeds University part-time to gain an M.Ed.

Another day in lockdown. Things are going better than I thought they would. I wake each morning with vivid and disturbing dreams in my mind. I get up feeling visibly shaken and that feeling stays with me unless I do something to change it. I am taking a tablet that helps me sleep but I believe that the side effect is these early morning dreams. At first, I would try to keep busy and occupied my mind until the feelings disappeared but now I have adopted a much more successful approach. I recognise that the dreams are my subconscious reminding me of times when I was very anxious and I am now able to look at the situation logically. I tell myself that the dreams represent the past but I am now living in a different world where this anxiety is irrelevant. It can only hurt me if I let it. So I get on with my day and busy myself not to run away from the feeling but to rise above it.

Five weeks into lockdown and many people are struggling. We all miss our routines, going to work, meeting friends but also having personal space. Most people will find this situation hard but those with mental problems are most vulnerable. I am missing the connections that mean so much to me and help me cope with this illness. Physical contact is confined to those we share the lockdown with but there are others who I would like to be with and hold. This would give me comfort but also give comfort to them. I always felt a little alone until I met my future wife when we were both 14 years old. From then on I had a connection that was unbreakable and that feeling of loneliness left me. My brother’s death brought back some of those feelings. For me, it marks the end of an era because as a young boy my parents and two brothers were my universe. My feelings are naturally raw and long-forgotten memories flood my mind with vivid images of my childhood. So this week I have felt quite low bu