Dig deep, reach out and exercise your way through the tough times

I was always a happy guy, glass half full, never half empty. Things happened to other people, not to me and I always could take care of it – whatever it happened to be.

I was 40, happily married, good income, enjoyed my work and location, and had good friends. Outwardly I had it all except that inside I was in turmoil, lurching from one crisis to another and always hoping that tomorrow would bring relief, an escape from the interminable pain, the anxiety, the panic that would envelop me whenever I had to do something out of the ordinary.

I had become a master at evasion, avoidance, excuses, and feigning illness. I had become almost reclusive, going to work, having a sandwich in the canteen, going home with no social outlet and if I did venture out I drank quickly to settle my nerves and entered the same vicious circle again tomorrow. I was slowly but surely isolating myself from society and did not see the effect it was having on my family nor deep down did I care because all I wanted to happen was to be well again, free from pain, the sadness, the melancholic feelings that were slowly wrecking my head. But I did not know what to do or where to turn.

I tried to rationalise why I was feeling this way – the many visits to various doctors, alternative practitioners, quacks, all failed to give me a remedy. How could they? All my symptoms were physical, yet my problem was mental. I had endured some tough times in the previous 10 years, the deaths of my infant twin boys, and the suicide of a friend and colleague. These tragedies had taken their toll. I had “handled” them all by myself but I was only kidding myself for in truth I had never reached out, spoken about them to anybody. It was not manly. I had not faced up to the truth that I was in fact mentally unwell, struggling and needed help.

How did all this change?

I visited my GP again for the umpteenth time on the advice of my wife who could not take much more. She told me this afterwards!

He shocked me, told me that he had a bed for me the following day in an institution where they would make me well again. I was reeling. He could not be talking about me. I went home, went to bed and tried to sleep. I had to talk to somebody for my doctor was definitely wrong and maybe I needed to see some other doctor who would find out what was really happening to me.

I rang my GP – I could not go to this institution I said, but I knew I needed help so accepted his advice to seek counselling and within a week I had an appointment.  I know now that this was his way of shocking me into making a decision to seek counselling, he told me as much later.

My counsellor listened, said virtually nothing and I talked and talked like I never talked before, non-stop, the pain, suffering- she nodded, understood. Now I had found the elusive elixir right here. I had reached out and for the first time in longer than I cared to remember, I felt better. I had another appointment the following week and looked forward to it. In the meantime my GP prescribed some light medication which unbelievably made me feel that a burden of some sort had been lifted from me but there still was a long way to go.

After some further sessions, I began to feel better, understood how the brain works, why I felt like I did. She probed, pushed, made me extend my boundaries, encouraged me to write things down, and finally suggested that I would speed up my rehabilitation by exercising. Finding something I really liked, walking or swimming, anything that would get my heart pounding for the right reasons!

I was reluctant at first, walking made me light headed, it bored me, but with her insistence and the help of others I saw the benefits. The pain was easing and I was getting, dare I say it, better. This continued for some time and looking back it all made sense. The more I exercised the better I felt, coming back after a walk on a beach with the sound of the sea ringing in my ears had me in touch again with nature and I was getting there.

That was a few years ago. I have had two major traumas since then. My wife, my great support (who had endured more than most) was diagnosed with cancer in 2010. Surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy followed. I had to be strong for her, she was my rock when I was ill. We nursed each other through it. I touched base with my counsellor, talked about my feelings, fear of the future and again she listened, and again she said remember what made you well.

I reverted to the tried and trusted; the walking, cycling, burning off excess adrenaline, pounding the fear out of me. I remained calm, stable. Shortly after this my mother suffered a terrible accident at home and succumbed to her injuries 24 hours later. We were close and it hit me hard. I got through the funeral, even did a couple of readings at her Mass without any fear. By the strangest of coincidences my counsellor rang me the day after her burial without knowing what had occurred. I informed her and said I would go to work within a few days as I felt that I was needed there and work would keep me busy. Grieving is tiring she said, take some time off and ring me in a few weeks. Again, I spoke with my counsellor who advised me to keep doing what I had been doing and making me feel well.

I purchased a new bicycle, got my fitness levels up and cycling is now an integral part of my life. I would not miss my weekend cycle for anything; rain, hail or snow. It keeps the equilibrium right and releases the good vibes inside of me. The exhilaration I get on returning from a 2/3 hour cycle lasts for days and I am ready to go again!

I decided to cycle the Ring of Kerry cycle (180kms). Years previously I would not have entertained the idea and I began cycling the roads to prepare for the event. Pieta House was a worthy recipient of my fundraising and I felt a massive sense of achievement when crossing the finishing line. I shed some tears, tears of elation and tears of sadness for my boys and my friend who were not there to share in that moment.

If I was to recommend one thing to anybody out there who is suffering like I did, it’s to haul yourself off that couch, dig deep, reach out for help and find the motivation to exercise, walk, cycle, swim because tomorrow you will feel better for it. Take my word for it, it might sound like too much now but I would not be writing this story today had I not done it. It saved my life, it could save yours.

There is an old Chinese proverb which translates something like this: Remember in times of trouble, 2 things; 1. you are not alone and 2. You are stronger than you think.