Me and my Ego: a digression on depression.

A happy, healthy ego is essential if one is to avoid harming others. Respect for oneself translates into respect for others and the world around us.

Sadly our egos are under constant attack from madvertisers [sorry slip of the keyboard but rather a rather clever neologism don't you think?], politicians, religious bigots, bosses, 'experts', journalists, fashionistas and so on who do their best to make us feel poor, threatened, guilty, inadequate, stupid, dowdy and ridiculous.

It's hard to survive this unremitting siege warfare. Most of us succumb most of the time and we carry the game forward and try to make others feel poor, threatened, guilty, inadequate, stupid, dowdy and ridiculous too. A very sorry state of affairs.

A couple of years ago my ego was a tattered mess. I was working as a therapeutic gardener in a day centre having to cope with 'service users' with 'challenging behaviour' and managerial hostility. At the same time I was shop steward and health & safety rep and having to 'support' colleagues suffering from 'work stress'. It all became too much and I came down with 'work stress' myself.

My head was full negative nonsense: I'm such a prat, twat, idiot, fool, pillock, failure; Oh God I'm so pathetic, feeble, unprofessional, 'unassertive', stupid. Can't spell. Can't add up. I'm ugly. There's probably something wrong with my brain, genitals, heart. I'm cursed. Everyone hates me. If people do like me it's because there's something wrong with them. I'm suffering from bad karma for the R.E. homework I didn't hand in to Miss Norgate, for dropping out of Cubs, Sunday School, The Sweyne School cross country team...Every decision I've made is wrong. I'm a waste of space... It just went galloping on like this without let up. My doctor told me I was depressed which I found depressing as I liked to think of myself as being mentally robust: the macho thing I can cope. But I couldn't.

What got me out of the big hole?

Firstly by understanding that the slurry of sorry thoughts sloshing about in my brain was not just a personal thing but something that other people experienced too. This insight came as a result of counselling and supporting others. It enabled me to see how other people felt on the inside and why they were nasty to others in turn. Hence my opening remarks above.

Depression is not a personal phenomenon, it's about how we all get on with each other.

Secondly by doing Suduko. Yes. I'm serious. It's important to find something that will take you away from the negative word stream. It's got to be something positive though. Swilling down great quantities of alcohol or watching cack on the box only provides temporary respite. Any activity that occupies the thinking processes weakens the depressive default position of destructive rumination.

Thirdly by taking some medication. I found Prozac helped . I'm generally anti-medication but I have to concede that this stuff helped.

Fourthly by finding my own voice. Some things that people say to you really hurt and stay with you for years. Whilst in my former post in Social Services a manger said to me, with a sneer on her face, What's the matter with you? Have you swallowed the dictionary? just because I'd used a word that I thought accurate and apt for the issue under discussion. I can't remember what the word was but the venom of the outburst left a serious wound.

One consequence of this was that I found myself unconsciously dumbing down. I found I fitted in better if I mumbled incoherently, was inarticulate and used the requisite cliches: 'inappropriate', 'challenging', 'empowerment', 'equal opportunities', 'inclusion'. The Newspeak of the 'Caring' Professions. An armamentarium of terminology designed to confuse, obscure, deflate, obfuscate, belittle, defuse any situation, condition or problem sorry 'issue'. There are no problems any more only 'issues'.

I care deeply about words and I love them to entertain, inform, evoke feeling; to waltz, bop, do the twist, stomp, strut, pole dance, pirouette, scurry, glide...You get the idea.

So part of my recovery was to start enjoying words again, to use them, play with them, shout them, whisper them without fear of the sneer and the put down. And here I am messing about with words and thoroughly enjoying it!