My story
I've said it thousands of times. Most of the time I even looked it: calm, chilled, sorted. On the inside it was a different story.
It started with a firework
I was ten. It was bonfire night and I was holding my sister's hand when a huge rocket went off course. It went through her and threw us both across the field. She was badly burned and spent months in hospital.
I've never been diagnosed, but looking back I think that night stayed with me, maybe as a kind of PTSD. It was the first time I felt complete helplessness, and I think I spent the next forty years making sure I'd never feel it again. Stay disciplined. Stay in control. Keep it together.
That works, right up until life throws something at you that you can't control.
And life kept doing that
In my twenties I was in a relationship that brought some genuinely scary times.
Then Covid hit. My wife and daughter got stuck in China for two years. I couldn't travel, couldn't fix it, couldn't do a thing. While that was going on I lost my mum, and then several aunts and uncles, one after another.
More recently my dad has been ill, and so has our dog. I've had six years of unstable work, trying to get businesses off the ground, with money worries humming away in the background the whole time.
What people saw vs what I felt
Most people saw a relaxed bloke. Now and then something leaked out: OCD-type habits, checking things over and over, throwing food away because I was convinced it wasn't safe.
Inside there was dread and helplessness, and a mind that could turn anything into a catastrophe. A small compliance question at work would spiral: I'll get in trouble... I'll get arrested... I'll end up in jail. This was me, someone who tries to do everything by the book. Looking back it's almost laughable. At the time it felt completely real.
"Keep going, it'll get better," I told myself. Meanwhile the frustration kept building.
The low point
There came a time when I'd wake up feeling completely helpless, not sure I wanted to carry on.
I want to be clear that I'm in a much better place now. I'm telling you because I know some men reading this are there right now, saying "I'm fine" to everyone around them. I was you.
What actually helped
I had CBT. Honestly, I'm not sure how much it did for me. Self-help books did more than I expected. But the things that made the biggest difference were simple:
- Walking. Get outside and get moving. For me that's the hills around Hagley.
- Routine. The same structure every day, especially on the bad days.
- Eating properly.
- Talking, and having someone help me look at things from a different angle.
I also learned one big lesson, and it took me nearly forty years: you can only control yourself. You can't control death, illness, losing a job or a pandemic. Ten-year-old me thought that if I stayed in control, nothing bad would happen. Forty-nine-year-old me knows the only thing I can control is how I respond.
Where I am now
I still have bad days. I'm starting a new venture, money isn't stable, and the frustration still turns up. But I'm far more positive than I was, and I don't automatically see doom ahead like I used to. When my mind starts catastrophising I notice it, and I ask myself whether this is actually under my control. If it isn't, I let it go and focus on what is.
Why ManMyMind
I'm 49. Most of my mates have moved away or are busy with their own families. And here's the thing nobody says out loud: you can have a family around you and still find it really hard to talk to them. You don't want to worry them, and you're supposed to be the one holding it all together.
That's why I started ManMyMind. It's a place for men who say they're fine. I'll share what has actually worked for me, and before long we'll get out there together: a walk in the hills around Hagley, a coffee, a bacon roll, a pint. Come and talk, or don't talk. Just turn up.
Man, my mind… let's talk about it.