Brains, Balls & Politics

I don’t know precisely how I generate the energy to work on the days I am depressed, never mind fulfil entirely my role as a senior leader, whilst meeting the needs of my employer, my team and my customer, but somehow, I do. An old friend and former colleague who is a HR professional and has a sound understanding of business psychology, suggested I write an entry which explores what it is like to be a depressive at work. A brilliant idea, I thought, but I’ve found myself really struggling to articulate what it is actually like and I’ve reached the conclusion that this is because my depression has played a key role in the career success I have enjoyed. I am not ashamed to admit that the majority of career opportunities awarded to me have been as a result of both dumb luck and being in the right place, at the right time. Depression has also contributed enormously to the person (in a professional capacity) I am today. The stigma associated with ill-mental health often drives employers

I am often wrapped up in my own little world during a depressive episode. This isn’t by design, but the all-consuming nature of depression makes it hard to see past the slump one routinely finds themselves in when they score a five or above on the depressedometer (see previous post titled ‘Today I am a 4.’ for more info). Consequently, there is a routine failure by many depressives and those expressing an interest in or participating in a conversation about ill mental health, to forget the other people most impacted by this cruel disease. I speak of the many partners, wives, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends, parents, close friends, siblings and extended family members of sufferers. During a bout of 03:00 AM insomnia last week, I spent about thirty seconds watching my fiancée, Holly, sleeping. As I observed her looking completely at peace, I couldn’t help but wonder ‘Wouldn’t her life be so much easier if I wasn’t around?’ . What prompted that relatively abominable thought was the

  I have, on countless occasions, denied that what happened to me in early 2018 was a breakdown but that is exactly what is was. I’ve had several requests from friends and acquaintances asking me to share the specifics that both led to and were part of my 2018 crisis point. They tell me this will help them understand how depression can manifest itself when ignored and the warning signs that are associated. For the most part I believe them, though I can’t help but feel some simply see it as a ‘juicy read’ and I’m OK with that, because if a desire for something as such, results in them reading material which is likely to help them and others around them, who cares what their motivations, it is the means and the end result which matter. I’ll start at the beginning (whilst perpetually reminding myself of the need to exercise brevity). For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like I’m just not as good as everyone else and I cannot think of a entire week when I have not, at some poi

There is no ladder which helps me escape the well of depression I experience, metaphorically speaking. But there are things which make it a little easier, things which allow me to identify an escape route in addition to medication and therapy. In this post, I want to set out some of the practical things I do to help me survive each depressive episode I experience in the hope that this may help others either directly, or to allow this to be passed on to any friends, family or colleagues readers may know to have depression. First thing’s first, there are some things which you should avoid saying to a depressive, particularly if they are in a depressive episode. I’m talking about the age-old clichés which have been floating around the vocabulary of society since long before I was even a glint in the milkman’s eye. One-liner’s which are often regurgitated with the best of intentions but can have a harmful impact on the psychological state of people like me, depressives. I actually have