Editor’s note: What follows is the first-hand account of a classic mental breakdown: an utter and catastrophic collapse of psychic functioning. Columnist Hugh Macaulay has paraphrased portions of the interview only where absolutely necessary.
“When the crash finally came, I was not surprised. Things had been building for the better part of a year. Maybe ‘building’ isn’t quite the right word; more like falling apart.
“It’s funny how things creep up on you when you are depressed. Everything started with little things: a loss of motivation here, a dropped interest there. You don’t really notice that one day you don’t feel like going for the run, or listening to music. The stuff you’ve always done.
“But a couple of months later, and I’m doing nothing. I’m miserable and bored and unhappy.”
For many people living with depression, the search for causes is most frustrating, as it was in the current instance. It is natural to seek reasons for feelings, emotions, and actions — positive or negative — and when no explanations can be found, the spiral downward quickens.
“About three months before I hit bottom, I went to my doctor. I was climbing the walls with anxiety. Nothing in my life made sense anymore. Everything was starting to become inverted.
“Where before I had been happy and sociable, I found myself isolated and sad all the time. “Where before I enjoyed a creative and adventurous intellect and imagination, I soon found myself being conventional and afraid to even consider new ideas.
“In so many ways, I was becoming my opposite, and I could find no way to change course. Medically, there was nothing really wrong, except a loss of about 10 per cent of my bodyweight, so my physician simply recommended a sensible course of ‘mood hygiene’: lots of exercise, healthy food, sleep, and social balance.”
Easier said than done, as it turns out. For someone headed for a breakdown there is, as in this situation, a point of no return: as my interviewee calls it, the ‘event horizon.’
“There came a time when there were just too many things going sideways — or down, I guess — and I could no longer keep my whole self functioning. I couldn’t attend to all the dysfunctions in my life.
“Not cooking. Not exercising. Not caring what clothes I wore. Not doing any of the things I previously enjoyed. Being sad for no reason. It was just too much, so I just sort of shut down and stopped trying.
“And that’s death. When you stop trying to preserve yourself, you’re really in deep.”
Memory, at this point, blurs. There is a panicked call to a friend. An ambulance ride. A long wait in a cold isolation room in emergency. The walk through steel doors onto the psych ward.
“In those first few days on the ward, I was a mess. I hadn’t really slept or eaten in weeks, was dehydrated, unwashed, and scared silly. But you know, being in hospital was such a relief. It was almost a happy time. I know for sure that when I was discharged after a couple of weeks, I didn’t want to leave.
“My mood hygiene is actually pretty good now, because I never want to break down again. And I guess if I could say anything to people it would be to be aware of yourself. Learn to read your feelings and behaviour. And get help before you absolutely need it.”
Editor’s note: Hugh Macaulay is vice president of the Arrowhead Clubhouse Society board of directors. He writes monthly about mental health issues witha focus on the Sunshine Coast.
