HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Since 2004 I have wrote a series of Christmas messages with the partial aim to help people get into a festive mood in time for the big day. For the first time in 8 years I failed to write that message, I wanted to but I was finding it hard to come up with something in the tone of happiness and cheer which I aim for. I wasn’t feeling very festive you see. In fact I was feeling angry.

In a year in which I could have lost everything, in a year in which I could no longer see a path to continue on there has been one light ahead of me. One person who could always make me smile and laugh, even on the bleakest day. One person who is too small to have had to draw me out of darkness. My son. My Nathan.

Michelle is a rock. Michelle has been forged harder than steel. She has held me and us all together. My guilt for the struggles Michelle has to endure shadows the happiness that I feel with her. When we smile and laugh together I can’t help but see how tired she is; how hard her life has become. Nathan, however, knows no such struggle.

Nathan’s innocence to the realities of our life have made it possible to get lost in his world. Who could worry when they see their toddler run towards them with open arms? How could I feel low around a son who sings all day long? What is depression versus seeing the smile on the that smart and beautiful boys face, that smile which is just for me? I could not ask for a better boy. So bright, so loving, so caring. Just so good.

Since November it has been impossible to be around Nathan for any length of time without hearing him sing a Christmas song. He knows When Santa Got Stuck Up the Chimney, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and more words to Jingle Bells than I do. You might think you would have got sick of hearing them, but if anything I’m actually sad they will stop soon. His excitement about Christmas has been so prevelant in our lives that it has been almost palpable. As well as the songs, all he has wanted to watch is Christmas movies. Climbing the arm of the couch and jumping on the couch is “being Santa”. He has even taken to wearing socks on his hands as a substitute for Santa’s cotton gloves.

So why was I angry? On Thursday afternoon when I arrived to pick Nathan up at Nursery I found him being cradled and having his temperature taken. He was sick, and by Christmas Eve he was really sick. He had a small fever, wasn’t eating, had little to no energy and had a terrible cough.

Maybe you’re still wondering why I was angry? What you have to understand is: the universe hates me. It just really likes to mess with me. That’s fine, I probably deserve it, but, Universe, listen up: Leave my boy out of it. It just was so unfair. Nathan doesn’t have as easy a life as a 2-year-old should. Some days he has had to put up with a father who was barely functioning, who is too stressed to play or too depressed to be there for him. And yet, still he is so good. He’s still so kind. He’s still so happy. And yet what was his reward for these achievements? To be ill at Christmas. Not fair.

This morning, Christmas morning, Nathan woke up feeling better and continued improving as the day went on. He had a great Christmas. He loved his gifts, of course, but more importantly he loved the day. How do I know that? Because when his mummy was tucking him into bed tonight he turned to her and said “Mummy, I’m happy”. What more could any parent want at Christmas?

I hope you all had a happy Christmas too. I hope that happiness follows us all into the new year and beyond.

SIDE EFFECTS

Tonight, after a two week absence, I returned to work after having suffered from the ill effects of the withdrawal from, and subsequent reintroduction of, selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRI) to my body. In other words I reacted badly to a change in anti-depression medication. What I want to talk about here however, is not nausea, fatigue or any of the other common side effects caused by SSRI's, but rather the effect that depression has had on me in relation to the world around me. The side effects of life with depression.

Each night that I sit down at work I think the same thing: You are worthless. Why? Because it's an easy job which I have done for a long time (over six years). Of course I know why this is the case, after having had a mental breakdown four years ago my employer and I have had a somewhat strained on again off again relationship; like Ross and Rachel with the laughs replaced by bureaucracy and the constant fear of unemployment.

Being regularly absent means that I am unreliable, which in turn means that I am rarely given additional responsibilities, which in turn again means that I am unable to progress in the business and left with the simple and unchallenging duties of my current grade.

Even those times I do go to work I show little promise. Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) is a byproduct of my depression and often causes me to be away from my desk. Other side effects I experience are a lack of concentration and fatigue, which means that, even at those times where I am at work and able to sit and do my job, that my productivity is awful and that, despite my employers patience and understanding, my opinion of myself at the end of each night reinforces that which I had at the start of the night: I am worthless.

My opinion of myself is, I perceive, shared by many of my peers and superiors. And why not? I'm always off and never do much when I'm there. Certainly, when I was younger, I once worked with a woman who I met briefly and then who was off for the next seven months. Depression, yeah right, more like a paid holiday! That's what I thought about the absent woman, so why wouldn't my colleagues think that about me? All of which is not to say that those people with whom I work, or even my former self, are ignorant, uncaring or cruel, far from it. Each time I return to work I am welcomed by 'how are you', 'nice to have you back', and the polite understanding that I don't want to go into the reason I was off. What I am talking about is my own anxiety about how I am seen by these hard working people, each with worries of their own, who manage to do what I frequently cannot: show up.

Naturally things at home can be difficult too. While my wife Michelle and my parents are supportive and always reliable, they too have to live with the disease while being powerless to do much of anything about it, which of course can lead to frustration and worries of their own, which I then feel guilty and anxious about.

My family's worries, especially Michelle's, expand past me to our son, Nathan. As a full time dad with depression, it is unfortunately unavoidable for Nathan not to be affected by my illness at times. For some time now a combination of my anxiety and fatigue have meant the Nathan has rarely been given the opportunity to be out and interact with other children. Recently he has become increasingly withdrawn while out out of the house and shy, sometimes to the point of being fearful, in crowds. Above all my failures with my son are the hardest part of living with my depression, I can only hope to try to be better for him.

In the months ahead I will soon begin regular therapy sessions and, hopefully, my new medication will be of greater help too. I hope that in reading this you have not found me to be self pitying or seeking pity, but rather that you might have gained a better understanding of a greatly misunderstood disease. At least I hope that you might have a better understanding of me, and life as I know it.

If you have mental health problems or know someone who has, I have found these organisations helpful: Mind, Breathing Space and Action on Depression.

Location:Columbia Pl,Glasgow,United Kingdom

13 Pages

It started with a trailer. This trailer: -

Awesome, right? The Movie is the US adaptation of the international bestseller THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO. Michelle had read the book and watched the Swedish movie before seeing the trailer and was excited to see the new version. I hadn't read the book or seen the original film but, not being either blind or deaf, I knew of the story and wanted to see what David Fincher (director of SE7EN, FIGHT CLUB and ZODIAC) would do with it. I just wanted to do one thing first: read the book.

Given that the trailer above debuted in June, I didn't think getting through the 538 page novel would be a particularly difficult undertaking before the film was to be released on 26 December 2011. Yes, I am a full time dad with a part time job and interests other than reading, but, by calculating my average reading rate, I have worked out I would only have needed 9 hours and 43 minutes within six months to finish the book.

As of last night, 3 December 2011, I had made plans to see the film, which had been released on Christmas Eve, with Michelle. It's rare for Michelle and I to share a night off due to our conflicting work schedules, and we were lucky to have someone available to babysit. So this was it, at 20:00 on 4 December 2011 we would be at the Odeon cinema in East Kilbride watching Rooney Mara bring the titular character to life. I was on Page 36 when these plans were penned in, leaving me with 502 pages to get through.

I started reading when I went to bed just after 1am, but got through maybe only 5 or 6 pages, before Nathan woke up unexpectedly. On the rare occasions when Nathan cries out in the night it is usually a very brief affair; a missing dummy, sore teeth, a heavy nappy, or a windy tummy. Last night was different. Nothing was wrong with Nathan, but he did not want to lie down in bed. All my little boy wanted was to cuddle into his daddy for a while, and though the hour was late, I was happy to oblige.

I had only lost an hour, but an hour between 1am and 2am when your trying finish a book, is a long time. As I started to read again I was fully aware of the mammoth task and the long night-into-day ahead, but I would try damnit! I could do it! I cou-

I woke up 4 hours later.

But I could do it! I could get though it! I… Ah forget it! I may not know when I'm beaten, but I know when I'm dead. My highly possible goal, to finish a book within 6 months, which had turned into very improbable task, was not achieved.

I got home from the film an hour ago with only 49 pages having been read. For those of you keeping count, of the 502 pages I had hoped to read last night, I only managed to get though less than 3% of that target: 13 Pages.

Go see the movie, it's excellent.