Episode IV: Emotional Improvement: The Power of Exercise

Whenever I’m in need of a bit of emotional encouragement, the first thing that pops into my head is food. But, knowing that bingeing often brings me crashing down after an intense ‘high’ period, I’ve had no choice but to find something else to focus my mind on. For the last 7 or 8 months, I’ve been regularly using a treadmill or going on lengthy walks, simply for some exercise. While at times it’s difficult to get into the right mind-set, I always find that a good long walk or run makes me feel fresher, more alert, and less inclined to consume my bodyweight in biscuits.

It may sound clichéd, but it is absolutely true what they say: exercise is key to improving your health. And I’m not just talking about physical health either. Since exercising more, I’ve had more confidence, and I’ve been far less shy about my build, despite the fact that, as of yet, there’s been no huge improvement in terms of physical appearance. I’m far happier overall, and that’s paramount. I know this, and yet I’m inexplicably still in the process of ridding myself of this dependence on food craving. I’m doing alright, but my body is at war, internally. It’s currently fighting two cravings – one for lean healthiness and one for all the sugared crap in the known universe. And this admission highlights a significant issue – that of one’s fitness regime becoming obsessive, which I believe has the potential to be equally as dangerous as any other form of addiction.

From what I’ve realised, short bursts of regular exercise are best. But bulk exercise simply doesn’t cut it. By bulk exercise, I mean frantically working out as much as possible in a particular time frame. You’re much more likely to give up on your self-improvement if you try to do too much at once. Fitness improves with time – in order to succeed you have to know your limits, and if you stand by them, those limits will likely change, sooner than you might believe. You’ll probably be surprised by your own capabilities after just a short while, but how do you find the enthusiasm to engage in such physical activity in the first place?

The truth is, you do have to force yourself at times. A couple of years ago, I remember being impressed by my housemates for committing so much time to the gym, one of whom has gone on to improve her physical self tremendously. But my body’s tolerance of such routines wasn’t quite mature enough at the time, and I worked out in spurts. I pushed myself, and it was worth it at the time, but after about a year, I was forced to quit, mostly because I found the gym was far too costly for the activities I engaged in. Back then, too, I focussed far too intensely on physical change rather than fitness, which led to my being underweight for a time. The lesson here is to not try and accomplish something you cannot really handle. Okay, I looked alright, but I didn’t feel good. And so I missed the point entirely. Even if you’re not the most active person, you can still improve yourself through physical means. Any reluctance is primarily due to laziness. Take it from me – for a clear head, exercise is essential. Even walking does wonders.

Episode III: ‘Greying Out’: Depression and Emotional Detachment

 

With all the attempts to raise awareness of depression, it’s become apparent that a good many people still do not understand it and what it entails. Needless to say, this derives from the fact that ‘depression’ is profoundly difficult and far too substantial an issue to define succinctly. In addition, everyone who suffers from depression experiences it somewhat differently. A very common aspect, however, at least from what I and people around me have experienced, is a tendency to involuntarily detach oneself from one’s colleagues, cohabitants and surroundings. Some refer to this as some form of apathy, though this term, like ‘depression’, is hurled back and forth so much that it is fast becoming devoid of meaning, or at the very least more susceptible to blunt misinterpretation. I prefer to see this detachment as a sort of ‘greying out’, in the sense that one’s relatability and connection with the surrounding universe seem to dissolve without rhyme or reason. And it can happen at any time.

Here’s an apt case study. The other day I joined my partner and his brother for a walk around town. Everything was fine until we entered a mobile phone shop, filled to the brim with high-tech gidgets and gadgets, some of which, I have to admit, was beyond even my comprehension despite my interest in technology. Then, completely out of nowhere, my mind seemed to just blot out all interest. The people ambling about became faceless drones, pushing and shoving for the latest models, queueing to experience the VR headset parked on a small table at the back of the store. I simply froze. It’s impossible to say why, and what precisely invoked this coldness. It was really quite bizarre. My partner looked at me, concerned, and asked if I was okay. “I’m fine”, I replied rather unconvincingly, in a hushed and inexplicably emotional tone. He sensed something was indeed wrong and pressed for answers – but I couldn’t give him any as I didn’t know myself! The feeling passed soon afterwards, and I concluded that it was merely a one-off. But it’s happened before, frequently.

I remarked that this kind of episode is entirely out of the blue, but in all honesty, there’s often some kind of trigger, so matter how miniscule it might seem. More recently, I have been considering the potentially damaging effects of consumerist society. The more I think about it, the more I seem to think we’ve all actually been manipulated, duped, and even forced into this way of life. Sure, it has its benefits, but it also sees us in limbo – in a continuous purgatory – yearning for some kind of finish line that will never materialise. Perhaps these thoughts were responsible for my having zoned out of reality for that brief period, though it’s unclear even to me. Suddenly, despite everything and everyone in front of me, I felt alone, accompanied only by a nagging internal voice questioning why I was there. That’s the thing about this ‘greying out’ – it makes you think you’re not really there, as though you’re observing from a distance, and not physically incorporated into your surroundings. It’s hard to explain, but that’s how it feels.

And where do I go from here? Well, I’m afraid it’s sort of open-ended. There’s no ‘one size fits all’ solution to this problem, but discouraging as that might sound, there are methods one can apply to alleviate it. It sounds clichéd but investing oneself in a hobby or interest that genuinely does mean something to you can help a great deal. Personally, I find it rewarding if I know something I’m working on will turn out looking and/or sounding great by its final culmination, even if the actual process at the time feels slow and repetitive. It’s just a personal preference but secluding myself from the outside world from time to time helps me to assess and fathom my thoughts, and engage in something productive. This productivity might only come to fruition when you’ve mustered the energy to give yourself a firm encouraging push, and it might even sound daunting, but trust me, it’s worth it. In truth, while at times it seems as though the world operates in some kind of bleak, routine, cyclical formation, there’s light at the end of the tunnel. By keeping the mind healthy and active, you’ll begin to see past all the negativity and focus predominantly on what matters to you. It’s true what they say: reality is what you make of it. So if you’re ever feeling washed out and low, keep in mind that, although reality can indeed seem dark, cold and depressing at times, there’s potentially still a world of colour waiting to be painted. And you hold the brush.

Episode II: Anxiety, Esteem and Interpersonal Connection

The other day I was on the bus, on my way back from work. I’m fairly new, so I more than likely looked drained and exhausted following 6 or so hours of having had waves of information crashing against me – my brain a dehydrated, partly eroded rock. Suffice to say, in my mind at least, it had not been a good day. From what I’ve gathered from my shifts so far, the way the workday pans out is wholly unpredictable. Sure, nothing catastrophically ‘bad’ had happened, but my mind, at times, tends to exacerbate the negative. Not always, but sometimes – and this was indeed one of those times. I forget precisely what it was that had me so worked up, but I certainly wasn’t in the best of moods. That was until a delightful elderly woman sat beside me, and I struck up something of a rapport with her. We talked about what you’d probably regard as being the most mundane conversation, about work, her dog, my university life, tuition fees, etc. Such topics I would ordinarily avoid after a long day, but in this instance it was strangely therapeutic; cathartic, even. All of a sudden I was inexplicably perky again. It just goes to show how profound an effect interpersonal connectivity can have on your esteem. And it beats social networking hands down.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m as impressed by and absorbed in technology as much as the next person. I’m frequently on my phone, and browse and communicate via social media fairly regularly. Perhaps not as much as most other people, but I’ll admit to having something of a compulsion to check for updates throughout the day, courtesy of people I haven’t spoken to in over a decade. And it is, to an extent, a good thing. We are in the process of broaching the threshold of a new Digital Age, a process that involves merging our consciences with that of a machine that permits us greater prospects for communication, and a better future in terms of connectivity. At least, that’s what it reads like on paper. It’s certainly nothing radical to argue anything to the contrary, but I have to admit I have my reservations. As our online avatars and technological developments such as Virtual Reality continue to develop and proliferate, so too does our fascination with it – and our interest in reality is subsumed, at the very least momentarily. Of course, this fascination is somewhat ironic, in that we’re collectively more invested in virtual representations of reality than in the real thing. As I’ve already said, technology is a wonderful thing, but one’s investment in it can be, I believe, in some form detrimental to wellbeing (and yes, I’m aware of the irony that you’re currently reading this on the internet).

Speaking from experience, hiding myself away behind a monitor in a nest of cables seemed like a good idea at the time. I owe many of my teen years to blanketing myself in social media. But ultimately all it did was reinforce my detachment from society. It wasn’t the primary cause of my anxiety by any means, but it didn’t help. It may indeed sound cliché but sometimes physically talking can rekindle some of those burnt-out embers. Talking is easier than you think, and a hell of a lot more meaningful in terms of connectivity than the worldwide web. Some may argue against this, but personally I don’t think anything can ever compare to the intrinsic power of human contact. And sometimes the conversation doesn’t even need to be all that thought-provoking or unique. In short, there’s nothing more life-affirming than a friendly face.

Episode I: Beneath the Surface: Depression and Me

The other day my partner made a passing comment that chilled me a little. We were casually sprawled on the sofa after a tiresome day at work when the subject of depression manifested itself out of nowhere, and my partner opined that depressed people who commit suicide in a way that puts other lives in danger “deserve to die”. And yes, those were his exact words. I was horrified. What a cruel and disturbing thing to say. I’ll admit that losing one’s life as a consequence of somebody else’s actions is tragic, and I could easily understand if close ones were to find it difficult to accept and forgive; many would probably be incapable of forgiving altogether. That said, in reality it’s highly unlikely that the person who committed suicide acted with any malicious intent. You don’t know what they were thinking at the time. In that respect, to delineate them as a selfish ‘culprit’ is an ignorant conclusion. You cannot possibly comprehend their mentality at what is most likely their lowest ebb, and you never will. And to condemn them for such actions is downright awful. We didn’t exactly fight over it. In fact, I didn’t really say anything. I merely spent the following hour or so in silence, ruminating over what had been said. As someone who has suffered with depression myself, I was offended, not to mention rather upset.

In my opinion, such a comment stems from a profound ignorance concerning the effects of depression. And it’s not the first I’ve heard either. I distinctly remember when I was first prescribed antidepressants, and some of my university acquaintances scoffed and remarked “you’re the least miserable person I know! That’s ridiculous!” The bitter truth is you cannot comprehend someone’s mental state just by looking at the surface, but a lot of people disturbingly presume that they can. It’s as the saying goes: you can’t judge a book by its cover. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but my body has been through all sorts of internal abuse due to a tumultuous and ongoing battle with food addiction – something for which there really is no cure. It’s not as though I can go cold turkey or anything; it’s food, and I need it. To the casual onlooker, I appear fine. Just fine. Inside, however, I’m constantly at war with myself.

The truth is, I’ve been overweight and underweight and everything in between. Right now, I’m somewhere in the middle. Some would say I’m ‘just right’. Others might refer to me as thin, slim and even skinny – it’s subjective, and all dependent on perspective. In actuality, I often don’t regard myself as being any of these things, and constantly need reassurance from a nearby reflective surface. This is often misconstrued as vanity, but it is absolutely not. It’s more of an insecurity than anything else. Some have even told me that I may have some form of body dysmorphia. Regardless, I think that the reason for this behaviour is that I’ve developed something of an inferiority complex since my high school days. Little did I realise at the time, I was taunted pretty severely by my colleagues for my physique (or lack of). Such disparaging comments owed themselves to a tragically cyclical process which resulted in my being too afraid to do anything about my appearance, which consequently (and obviously) led to further bullying. I don’t blame my colleagues (the vast majority of them, anyway), but the consequences of their actions were both mentally and physically debilitating. For about five or six years, I remained in limbo, unable to conquer my fears and make a change. Finally, in summer 2010, I managed to pluck up courage, resolving to get the long-overdue haircut I had been deferring for the last year and a half, and realised that I was not as unattractive as I had mentally convinced myself to be – that my body was actually worth caring for and maintaining.

The last six years have seen me focus, at times narcissistically, on my physique and wellbeing. The trouble is, after years of feeling incapable of controlling myself, it’s difficult to quell the temptation to relapse. Consequently, instead of finding comfort in gorging constantly, I became something of a sporadic binge-eater, which eventually led to an unanticipated diagnosis of depression and anxiety. Don’t get me wrong – things have improved since my school days, and by a wide margin. But food is essentially my drug. My dependence on it may have diminished somewhat over the years, but it remains my standby, go-to mental painkiller, mood suppresser and comforter. This is particularly frustrating when ‘the other me’ yearns to maintain a toned, fit and healthy body, and for the most part succeeds. The problem is that I seem incapable of convincing myself that I don’t need excessive amounts of food to keep my spirits up. It sounds ridiculous, but I feel genuinely powerless in this situation. I know what I need to do to stop, but I can’t seem to. The mind is a strange and, at times, a muddled and disobedient thing, and in that respect I don’t think a mind overwhelmed by depression can be fully comprehended. Everybody deals with depression in their own way. Now, obviously eating an entire Victoria Sponge is much less severe an action than throwing yourself in front of a bus, but my point remains valid: the mind is capable of the most obscure and irrational things, not to mention the fact that each and every individual has his/her own ways of coping. In that sense, trying to blame someone battling severe depression for putting others in serious danger is incredibly ignorant. Mental issues are, for the most part, undetectable – invisible, even. You can’t criticise what you can’t see. I don't think less of my partner for thinking this, but I certainly do think he's misinformed. It disturbs me that such comments are still being made, despite the proliferation of information concerning depression in the media and general public. Evidently, more is needed.