Instagram and the Art of Recovery

 

I recently read an article about Instagram posts acting as a marker for depression screening in individuals. This caused me to consider my own Instagram activity and behaviour patterns, and how much I have come to personally rely on them to help with my own depressive episodes.

I use my Instagram as an online diary or mini blog. I update almost daily and discuss what I have been doing, how I have been feeling and write very honestly about what is on my mind. When I first admitted that I was suffering from depression I was a little uncomfortable about publicly discussing it and the reason for that was apprehensiveness about how others might perceive my posts. Would they be viewed as attention seeking or cries for help? Contrariwise I recognised the reason I had hidden my depression so long was due to stigma and perceived weakness of admission of mental illness. So I feel I really should try to help defeat that stigma. When I had pneumonia I posted about it, and how it made me feel, so what was the difference with this illness? The fact I had been hiding it so long perhaps? The fact that it is mental illness, and too many people think that you can just shake it off. If you’ve never tried to shake off the irrational persistent notion that you would be better off dead, then you are lucky my friend and I hope you never have to.

When I first told my friends the reactions were mixed. Mostly I was hit with surprise. “But you’re so strong!” was the consensus. Well yes, but that doesn’t make me immune it makes me resilient. One of my friends was astonished. “I though you had it all sorted,” she told me “I always looked up to you. I thought if you wanted something you went out and got it!” I was astounded. I honestly did not know how to respond, and I was hurt. I am still like that, just because I have hidden my depressive episodes from the world does not mean what you thought I was is a fraud. I am still that girl, that strong girl that people looked up to and envied. It’s just that I was secretly battling my own demons more than you realised. I know I am still that girl because after I admitted my diagnosis a few of my other friends were inspired to go to their own GPs and admit that they felt depressed or anxious or just that they needed a little help to cope with life. “If you can do it I realised that I could do it” they said.

Once I begun to get used to the idea of having depression and anxiety I became more comfortable talking about it, and soon I was regularly updating my progress on Instagram. My main aim was to be truthful, and so I post about good days and bad days. I recently went through a period of deep and extreme grief following the untimely and unexpected death of my horse, and very soon after the death of my beloved guinea pig. The grief was almost unbearable, and surprised me with its intensity and prolonged nature, and really I’m still grieving a little bit now, I still have unexpected floods of tears and sorrow. It really halted my life for about six weeks, just when I was starting to feel like I was recovering. It caused a big block in creativity and career development, and not surprisingly so. I do not care who thinks that the death of a pet is not valid grief, I have never been so devastated by anything in my whole life. As I posted about my feelings people reached out to me. It was so wonderful, this support network of strangers and friends and acquaintances all reaching out to me. Some had stories to share, some tried relentlessly and misguidedly to force me out of my reverie and others just told me they were thinking about me, and I am endlessly grateful for each and every one of them. It meant so much to know that people cared and understood and had time in their day just to say to me “hey man, you got this, we are here for you”, that they wanted to help even if they could not figure out how to help.

The same thing happens if I have a bad day for mental health. I post about it, and people respond. Sometimes it’s just a coloured heart emoji, sometimes it’s a kick up the arse and sometimes it is a heartfelt pouring of connection from someone going through the same thing. I don’t post for the comments. I post for the interaction and I post because if I write something down it is more manageable, and if I get feedback for what I wrote it becomes more manageable still. I am packing my depressive episodes in to colourful square internet boxes and hashtagging them relentlessly. This is how I deal with them, and it is helping me endlessly and I will not be made to feel ashamed of something that is helping me back to wellness.

It made me wonder if other people do the same, or if they would benefit from doing the same and a hundred other questions which I am tentatively beginning to research with a view to compiling a paper. I have no excuse not to start such endeavours now my Flying Start is dusted and out of the way. My mind is happy when it is achieving and being challenged, but I think I need to challenge myself more and not wait for approval. I need to do more of this and less self destructive behaviours, and I need to continue recording these adventures on my Instagram and my blog. I found a remedy to what ails me and I need to utilize it entirely.

Adventures in mental health.

At some point in between starting my nurse training and my first year post qualification I lost my mind a little. I seem to have lost myself, lost sight of where I was going in life and lost a grip on my reality.

I stopped writing, I stopped pursuing the career of my dreams, I stopped feeling happy and content. I began to feel lost, pressured and afraid. I am not wholly sure of the catalyst for all of this, and as with everything about me I rather suspect a multitude of causes, factors and explanaitons are required.

The pinnacle of this was a minor mental health breakdown which I finally sought help for and as a result I am now prescribed anti-depressants to help me cope with myself. I was diagnosed with depressive episodes and anxiety. I am on daily medication and awaiting talking therapy.

I have been able to talk freely about this happening to some people in my life, others not so much. Some people have been very supportive, others not so much. Whether intentionally or otherwise in both cases is a matter for debate.

Since February this year I have been on a road to recovery. I have been changing my lifestyle by increments in an attempt to reignite the enthuisiasm and joy I once had for life in general and particularly my career. Today I am addressing the lapse in my writing career with the intention of rediscovering that passion and becoming once more proactive towards the future I crave. I refrain  from writing craved, as I feel very disjointed from the person I was in 2014 even thought it was a mere two years ago, but I hope she is still in there somewhere.

I reawaken my blog with the intention of writing in more depth and with more professionalism about my personal career journey. Meanwhile my Instagram has become a more personal mini blog. It has charted the rise and fall of recent emotional turmoils and I am keen to continue this daily chronicle of my life. With both of these projects I will hone and improve my writing skills. I will write and write until i am a writer. And then I will write some more.

Suddenly it Was March.

Well that month passed by quickly. I started my first nursing post at the beginning of February. Suddenly it is the beginning of March somehow. In fact it is almost double figures March so does that even qualify as the beginning of March? The beginning of the middle of March? Whatever. I started my first nursing post and the time has passed very quickly since then. I am starting to feel like I am finding my feet, interjected with bouts of feeling like a total imposter who does not know what she is doing. It is a very strange and terrifying experience, but at the same time it is wonderful to feel challenged every day. There is something new to learn each day and there are small mistakes made every day, which I will continue to learn from and will not allow myself to dwell on them. I am newly qualified, there are going to be mistakes at first. As long as they are learned from that is just fine.

There are also small triumphs each day, and the smallest snippet of praise from a senior staff member can go a long way towards making a newly qualified nurse feel like she’s getting the hang of it. Take note mentors! I am finding that the key to surviving this trial by fire is to face it head on, listen to all feedback constructively and absolutely do not dwell on any negatives. Nursing is not easy, it is going to be difficult in the beginning and that is totally fine.

So I am feeling a lot better, I seem to coping with life better and what is more I am really loving my first post. I am very tired, and I feel like I am at work ALL THE TIME but I am really enjoying myself. I feel fulfilled and energised at the end of a shift, and this is a great relief to me. I was starting to wonder if I had made a really big mistake, but I think that was just negativity getting the better of me.

During my third week I met the area manager, who was keen to tell me about management opportunities within the company, and how supportive they were willing to be for newly qualified nurses. I explained to her that management was not really a career goal for me, rather that I wanted to get in to research and was that something this company would support? To my great surprise (and momentarily hers) she informed me that it was. I have since been approached by my own manager and asked to carry out some research within my unit. Making impressions quite early on then? “Are you over achieving again?” a friend asked me. That’s not really how I see it but I take his point.

In conclusion, I guess that I have made up my mind which direction I want my career to take, and I am prepared to explore every opportunity before me to make it happen. In the meantime I am striving to be the best that I can be with what I am currently doing, and this is immensely fulfilling and somewhat cathartic for me. Finding a work life balance is proving a little difficult but I am sure that I will learn to juggle it in time. I will try and blog more often, but I can’t promise anything. There’s only so many hours in the day after all.

Regaining One’s Mojo.

It is fair to say I had a testing time in the aftermath of nursing school. I was completely unprepared for the intensity of the despair which enveloped me and pulled me down to its stagnant, festering level throughout September, October and November. It is startling to reflect back now upon that short period. I am not sure where I went during that time. I have always been a very strong and positive person, not someone given to melancholy and not someone easily knocked down. I am not sure why I found it so difficult to cope throughout this period, but I did find it difficult to cope.

What I found even harder was reaching out and asking for help. I found myself unable to tell anyone just how low I really felt. As a trained nurse I was aware that I was possibly depressed enough to require medical help, but even knowing this found myself unable to. I have not felt as depressed as I felt at the end of 2014 since I was a raw and uncontrollably emotional teenager. As a mature, rational adult I did not expect to suddenly lose my grasp on my own stability. I know that I should have sought proper help, I know that now I have come out of the other side and feel fine again, but at the time I found myself blocked and quite unable to adequately explain what was going on with me.

Christmas and New Year have passed by, and so has my black cloud of dejection. I am so looking forward to starting my new job, and all the challenges, nerves and joy that will bring. In the meantime, while I wait on the seemingly endless chasing of paperwork, I have resolved to something creative and stimulating each day. Whether that be arts and crafts, or something as simple as a walk in the country or spending the day socialising with a friend. I am paying more attention to looking after myself and am feeling like me again.

I am hopeful that this means I have gotten my mojo back. I have even started contemplating academic writing again. I have been keeping up with my creative writing, but today felt that thrill again, the one I got when I first started writing my first literature review. The one that sustained me last year when I discovered I was in love with research and researching, and decided that what I really wanted to do with my life was to become an academic. I feel positive and engaged and enthralled with my life once again. I have made it through a very dark interval and I know who I am again. It is the start of a new year, and a new phase in my life and I feel strong and adequately equipped to face whatever it may have to throw at me, and just now I am off to go and read some enthralling academic articles.

I have a job.

And so, after all the never ending tears, the feelings of complete redundancy, the moments of doubt and the long nights of despair, it finally happened all of a sudden. I went for interview, I got a second interview and I got offered the job. Just like that.

It is a post in a nursing home and I start in the new year. I am excited for this new beginning. I am a little daunted, aware that Staff Nurse Vendetta is a character I am yet to perform as, although I have done three years of preparation.

The biggest feeling though is relief. I feel so relaxed now knowing that I nailed it. I no longer have to sit and berate myself for being so poor at interview. I no longer feel like a failure. I feel like someone who spent three long and arduous years training for a really worthwhile career, and one that is not for everyone. I am proud of myself, at last. What joy to have been released from mental anguish just before Christmas, although it was arguably unnecessary and unjustified anguish, it was with me nonetheless.

I hope anyone else out there still struggling with post grad sad finds their peace too. Keep on ignoring anyone who tells you how you should be feeling. You feel how you feel, and it will come good in the end, I promise.

What is it they say? Everything will be alright in the end. And if it’s not alright, it’s not the end.

Seasons greetings to all, see you on the other side.

Nothing is sacred.

I ought to confess before I plough in to my main topic for today. In a follow up to my previous blog, I should admit a terrible relapse. After a mere two weeks of using the older smart phone I was unable to continue. I am back to using the crash damaged S3. I will not bother you with excuses or justifications. I would rather use a broken S3 than a pristine S2. I’m not even sorry.

Today I have been thinking about WhatsApp, which is my preferred instant messaging service. I really like the way WhatsApp works, I find it more enjoyable aesthetically than other messenger apps I have used, it neatly reveals all the contacts of yours who already utilize the app and does not pressure you to invite your friends to download it if they do not have it. It is a great way to share photos quickly and it has become habitual for me to have three or four WhatsApp conversations in the go during the course of a day.

As of 05/11/14 WhatsApp introduced the message read notification: https://www.whatsapp.com/faq/en/general/20951546. I have been using WhatsApp happily for quite some time now and I actually enjoyed the fact that this was the one app where you did not have to worry about the whole message read notification saga. I am frankly disappointed that WhatsApp have decided to change this feature, and I for one will be disabling it post haste.

I remember when read message notifications first became a thing, and I remember contemplating the damage that might do to the emotionally insecure. We have all been through the crushing ecstasy and exquisite despair that accompanies our first passionate love affair. I think most of us have also experienced the dramas of unrequited love, and the attempts and hopes related to convincing oneself, through excessive analysis of every minutiae of communication, that the target of our affection feels the same way about us, usually with a lot of help from our encouraging friends. And when faced with a textual message which has not been replied to it is sensible to remind yourself that the person might be busy and not had time to reply to your flirtatious advances, they will probably get back to you later. They might never reply to you, and you might realise that you were mistaken in assuming mutual affections, but you will still have that remaining spark of hope that they will text you tomorrow. Since the read message notification barged its way in to our lives, that wisp of hope has been destroyed: extinguished like a spent candle.

I think this is potentially damaging to our youth. We experience our most passionate and agonising feelings during our adolescence. We fumble our way through intense relationships with no real clue of what we are actually striving towards, and feelings get hurt everyday. I wonder why do we insist on creating technology to make our lives that bit more unbearable?

The flip side of this is that now if you receive a WhatsApp message from someone, and you perhaps only have the time to glance over the message and not reply, you either have to not open the full message to ensure that you do not notify them that you have read it, or risk causing catastrophic heart ache for the other person who now thinks you are deliberately ignoring them. Yet another layer of toxic game playing has entered our lives.

Perhaps I am being overly unfair about this small detail: it can after all be disabled. But as someone who has always been a great supporter of social media I do feel as if a darker cloud is covering my internet usage these days, and I would urge everyone to be mindful of their social networking behaviours. I do not think it should be underestimated either the impact all of this is having on the generation who do not recognise the world without social media.

What now?

It can be a harsh world out there for a newly qualified nurse. There are so many of us: fresh faced and eager to please, all prepped for interview and armed with the interview skills to impress. Unfortunately there simply are not enough jobs to go around. So it becomes a little dog eat dog and a little disheartening.

Some newly qualifieds are in a position to spread their wings and fly away to posts in different lands. Some managed to secure posts before they finished training, or before their registrations were even sent away. This leaves a pool of disappointed but keen newly qualifieds who start wondering why they are the ones to be left behind, why they are not drowning in job offers.

It is very difficult not to lose heart at this junction. After such difficult and intensive training the high upon completion is euphoric. To be then followed by a lull where the anticipated barrage of interviews does not appear is somewhat disheartening. The inevitable self doubt creeps in: what am I doing wrong? Is it my personal statement? Have I missed the boat, am I too late? Am I too early because my pin is not ready yet? Is it me?

All the plans which were laid down to be completed once qualification was achieved continue to sit on hold as each day increases the despair that you have not yet acquired your post. Meanwhile friends and colleagues start to collect their start dates and you feel left behind, bereft. You meet people socially and they ask what you do. you tell them you are a nurse and they ask where you work. Suddenly you feel like you were lying. Well I don’t have a post yet. It feels like you are saying I’m not really a nurse yet. Then there are the fears that you will start to forget how to do your job. It is all very frightening.

But keep one’s head up one must. This is a temporary phase, it will pass and a post will be found. Once that is secured the rest of your career can be kick-started. This too shall pass, as they say.  This down time and waiting around is difficult and it is disheartening but it is part of the process and shall one day be a mere memory. Or at least that is what I keep telling myself.