The Impact of Aware Volunteers

by Colm, Aware service-user and now Aware volunteer

It is easy to look back and spot parts of my teenage years where depression was evident, but it wasn’t until an incident in my late 20s that I reached the stage where I had to seek help and accept a diagnosis. Crossing a footbridge on my way home from work one evening, I physically stopped. I found I couldn’t move, my body had ceased functioning and my mind had pretty much shut down. At first, I thought it was migraine, but my vision was fine and I had no headache. Eventually, I suppose out of the fact that I had nothing else to do, I went home. I decided that I was probably ill and should see a doctor the following day. I was extremely lucky to find a GP with an understanding of mental health. I was also very fortunate that the GP hit upon the correct dosage and type of medication, a process that can in some cases take months or years to sort out. My head was washy and unfocussed for a number of weeks, but when the haze began to clear, my life became easier to manage. I was exceptionally fortunate too that I had a support base, despite the fact that as an undiagnosed sufferer of depression, I did not particularly make it easy for my friends to remain as close to me and as supportive as they have continued to be.

The first time I went to an Aware meeting was as things were stabilising after the incident I referred to earlier. I spent most of my first meeting nodding and agreeing silently, hearing others talk about their symptoms, their experience and their coping mechanisms. I cannot emphasise the level of comfort that provided. It meant I wasn’t alone in what I was suffering. The more I went, the more the key understanding to my sense of recovery presented itself. The depression and the self were separate entities. For me, this was critical – to begin to separate the me from the condition.  When I was in a depressive episode, it was not me. It was depression. I didn’t have to hate myself – that was the condition talking. The void of emotion was not me being evil, it was the depression. That is not to say that I distanced depression as part of me. Nor did I cease taking responsibility for my actions when depressed. It was more about beginning to recognise depression – removing it from me in the sense that I could, for the first time, look it in the face. Hearing others talk about their experience shone a light on my own in what was a safe and open atmosphere. When I started sharing my own story, murmurs of agreement, nods and supportive comments strengthened my resolve to understand more about my illness. These people knew. I could talk to them about the emptiness, the hollow soul, the dark places and there was no recrimination, no fear of odd looks and comments.

The sense that there were others who knew was not the only thing the Aware meetings gave me – they gave me knowledge. Not only from fellow sufferers, but Aware showed me books, informed me of lectures, pointed at websites all replete with what it was to be a sufferer. They didn’t direct or cajole or provide therapy, which can be a vital part to recovery but can also be difficult to pursue. Aware showed me the tool rack and the raw materials and offered me the chance to make something with them.

I learned to watch for my triggers, my early warning signs of an oncoming depression. I learned to be mindful of the aspects of the condition specific to me and how they manifest. More importantly, I learned what to do when the darkness comes. I learned through trying what others did, adapting them to my own needs or what worked for me. I learned to talk to others and not to be afraid of the stigma and the fear of how people would react. There is stigma about depression, but not to be underestimated is the stigma in each of us to talk about our own mental health: the two are obviously related, but conquer the latter and you begin to address the former.

Gradually, I learned that I could suffer from depression, but not let it overtake me, to be in control of the condition and not the other way around. There is no quick fix but I know the supports are there.
I have been off medication for almost two years now and have not had a really bad episode. This has put me in a position where I want to give back to Aware. More specifically, I am deeply motivated to spread the message that depression is nothing to be afraid of – a message both sufferers and the wider public need to hear. I am quite open about it in my workplace, where people are surprised to hear I have depression, and are always curious. I encourage this curiosity and educate as best I can. Information and knowledge – these are the keys to disempowering the fear. Talking about it at as early an age as possible and helping people to recognise the symptoms earlier – this is also of great importance.

Reaching out for help might seem like such a difficult step to take when you are in the darkness of depression; I have found though that it is actually the easiest option, far easier than continuing to struggle with depression on your own. To people who have not yet sought help, I remind you of a quote from Jalal ad-Din Rumi, a Persian Poet and Mystic from the thirteenth century:

Why do you stay in prison, when the door is so wide open?


Thanks to Colm for sharing his story - if you'd like to share your own experience with us, just leave a comment below. If you're interested in getting involved with Aware, have a look at our Volunteering Opportunities.

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