Reach Out in a Time of Isolation

We are in ‘lock-down.’

And it's impossible to say how much longer we'll remain confined to our homes.

As an Englishman, I am proud of the freedom, and liberties we all have on this fair isle. But, despite the advice regarding social isolation, we just didn't listen. So, a few weeks ago, Boris grounded us all once more, and temporarily curtailed those freedoms, and liberties. Again.

To be frank, we can have no complaints.

So to our homes we went. And where we'll stay.

When will life return to 'normal'? I'm hearing rumors of a month. But, I’ve got to be honest, and say I’m doubtful. Given that I teach English online, and a huge number of my students are Chinese, I’ve heard first-hand how severe Coronavirus can be. The fact that Wuhan, the city where this horrible illness originated from, has only just lifted its lock-down (and then only partially so), should tell us that we’re in this for the long-haul.

Get used to this, people.

The strange thing is, I (sort of) am.

Following my discharge from the psychiatric ward, I suddenly found myself in a world that just didn't make sense anymore. It looked the same, but it distinctly wasn't.

Most of all, it was all a bit terrifying.

That's not to say I'm not scared now, because I am.

Although I know their mother will do everything she can to keep them safe, I'm still incredibly worried about my daughters. I'm worried for my elderly grandmother. I'm worried for my friends and their new-born baby. The list is almost endless...

But, at the same time, this is probably the only time in my life where my mental illness gives me any sort of advantage.

The new, strange, febrile atmosphere that's suddenly descended on the UK is one I've been living in for a long time now.

I'm not being flippant or self-indulgent. I'm very aware that there are people dying out there. I'm also conscious that, given that the age of 'austerity' has resulted in more people in the UK needing to use food-banks, and pushed our beautiful NHS (and most other public services) to breaking point, Covid-19 is going to stretch the fabric of this country to its limit.

This is going to make the whole Brexit thing look like a bit of whimsy in comparison.

No, all I am saying is that, after my discharge, my world changed. Dramatically. Just as it has for everyone over the last few days, and weeks.

And that period did teach me a few things. Whether they have any relevance to you is uniquely personal.

However, I'm going to share them anyway (I'm good like that).

The first is obvious: follow any guidelines you have.

Just as my Treatment Plan gave me clear parameters on what to do in order to get better, the advice we're getting from our leaders should be adhered to. Yes, it's taken time for the UK government to clarify a clear strategy (but debating that is for Twitter, not here), but now there is one, listen to it.

Stay indoors.

And look out for your mental health: have a routine; keep busy but also find time to try and relax; exercise...

There's probably no end to the number of topics we could discuss about maintaining good mental health at a time like this. And the longer we spend in social isolation, the more we'll need to talk about it. I'd be amazed if I don't come back to this again.

But, for now, it's the basics: productivity; rest; exercise; eating well.

None of that is rocket science. No, actually managing to do it all is hard. But, we can't say we don't know what to do.

However, the biggest thing for me is the second thing we can all do: Reach out.

Reach out.

Two of the biggest causes, and 'feeders', of poor mental health are fear, and loneliness. And I'm guessing there's plenty of those around at the moment.

And I know how awful they can be.

Those first two months following my discharge were the hardest of my life. Most of all because they were scary, and lonely.

A lot of that was my fault.

Not only did I not tell that many people what had happened, a few close, personal relationships also fell apart (one in spectacular fashion).

There were lots, and lots of reasons for that. But there is no doubting my culpability. Explaining things clearly is not one of my strengths; I've always been woeful at either defending myself, or - at the very least - just listening to the other person, and trying to 'talk it out'.

And I suck at confrontation: If someone gets angry at me, I tend to either lash out in return, or just run away. I don't think I've ever, ever said, "Hang on - what you've just said is wrong and unfair" or, "You know what - you've actually made a really good point there: I was a bit of a d***k." I've always been too busy shouting back, or fleeing in the opposite direction.

Back in October last year, I did a combination of both of those things. And it was particularly upsetting because, once the dust had settled, I knew that I could have done so much more to arrest the damage. It's a bit absurd looking back now: there so many times when I could've just said, "No - that's wrong, and it is because of this...", or "Yeah - that's fair; you're right; I behaved terribly." I just didn't.

And it cost me three people who I'd give anything to have back in my life.

As a result, I found myself pretty much on my own when I left the Ward.

I'm incredibly proud of myself for managing those early days of my recovery by myself.

But...

I would've killed for someone reaching out to me.

And if that offer had come from someone for whom my relationship with them was in bad shape, that offer would've meant even more.

To know that, for a short time, personal feelings could be put aside, because it had been overridden by basic human compassion in a time of need.

Trust me - it would've meant everything.

So I have. I reached out.

To those three people.

I've reached out to a lot more, especially ones who I know - who like me - have a mental illness to content with.

But reaching out to those three people in particular mattered to me.

I didn't get the response I wanted. However, to be honest, I got the exact responses I expected. But it mattered for me to do it. Did me reaching out mean as much to them now, as it would've done to me at the end of last year? Truthfully, I have no idea.

And it's really none of my business.

Whether hearing from me was no more than an annoyance, and my contact was dismissed without a second's hesitation, or whether they thought long and hard about it, are things I'll never know. And probably don't need to. Whatever reasons they had for not reciprocating are as valid as mine were for reaching out in the first place.

But it still mattered to me to reach out.

With one of them, I won't do so again. I'm happy that the epilogue for my relationship with them ended on that note - that in a time of crisis, I at least offered to be on the other end of the telephone. I'm glad that my last action was a positive one. It doesn't undo all the mistakes I made prior to that, but it mattered to me that that was my parting gesture. There's never a good way to say 'goodbye', but that one will do.

But the other two people? Yes - I will.

I will reach out again.

They matter to me. Now more than ever.

Can things ever be repaired? I don't know. But I do know that they definitely won't be if I don't at least try.

And, at a time like this, if there's anyone in your life you'd like to speak to, I'd suggest trying as well.

Reach out.

It might make a difference to someone right now.

It might not, and you might never hear anything in reply.

Or you might get a volley of vitriol.

But try.

Because you never know whose world might be brightened by you doing so. For, just as my world was pitch-black at the end of 2019, there will be more than a few people in your life whose own lives have fallen into darkness right now, and who might appreciate the tiny illumination you reaching out might provide.

Reach out.

At least try.

There's so many things we can all do to get through these strange times. But reaching out might be one of best.

Life's too precious, and too short.

Reach out.

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