Advice
There's growing recognition of the toll depression can take on men, but before we tell the stories of men who have found techniques and activities that helped them, Jane Powell, chief executive of CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably), the charity dedicated to preventing male suicide, explains why “manning up” is not a solution.
Taking the First Step
Men are subject to the same problems as women, such as break-ups, health and money worries and media pressure to look good and be successful. “But when things start to go wrong for men, people tell them to, 'man up,' or, 'deal with it',” she explains. “Society's expectation is that they'll be strong and silent. The result is that many unhappy men are angry and frustrated – they either lash out or withdraw and drink alcohol to damp down their feelings.”
However, it's vitally important when life looks bleak, Powell emphasises, to tell someone else what you're going through in order to gain perspective. “It's helpful to hear that what you're feeling is actually pretty common,” she says. “It's fine to seek help – it's not a judgement of you or your value.”
CALM runs a confidential helpline (open from 5pm till midnight seven days a week) on 0800 58 58 58 for nationwide calls and 0808 802 5858 for London. thecalmzone.net
Dr Aki Lalani, 34, uses Reiki
Joining the British Army was an easy decision for Aki Lalani. Driven, intelligent and fit, he had taken part in gruelling marathons and loved being outdoors. More than that, because his father had come to the UK in the '60s as a refugee from Uganda, he felt passionately about giving something back to the country that had rescued his family.
So when he graduated from medical school in 2005, he signed up as a junior doctor at a military hospital in Surrey. Three years later, after officer training at Sandhurst and a course in battlefield medicine, he was posted to Afghanistan. It was daunting but Lalani remained confident he had made the right choice and put himself forward for the Parachute Regiment (Paras), one of the toughest regiments in the Army.
“The Americans have a saying, 'Go big or go home,'” he explains. “I felt privileged to be able to help these guys.” In Afghanistan, however, the reality of war hit home. He found himself the sole medical officer for 150 people, stationed in an area of opium farming. There were landmines everywhere and gun-battles raged for 18 hours at a time.
The temperature outside was 52 degrees Celsius and soldiers had to patrol the area several times a day with 60lb of kit on their back. Usually, they only slept between two and four hours a night.
On top of that was the emotional strain of being away from home – Lalani was newly married – and witnessing death and injury on a daily basis with no space to grieve.
“As the doctor, I knew everybody in the unit and I was the one who had to zip them into the body bag and send them home when they died,” he recalls. “One guy died in my arms under fire. Half his head had been shot away so all I could do was give him morphine and say the Lord's Prayer. There was nothing anyone could have done, but I blamed myself and it took me several years to come to terms with it.”
Unsurprisingly, back in Surrey six months later and working at the military hospital, Lalani was finding it difficult to cope. Outwardly, he was managing but inside he felt desperate. At home he was edgy and withdrawn and though his wife tried to get him to talk, the marriage broke down under the strain.
One day he was inserting a drip into a patient and had a flashback, where an image of the barracks in Afghanistan appeared unbidden in front of him. Realising he needed help, he approached a psychiatrist colleague who diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and signed him off sick.
“There I was, living back at my parents' house with no job, no marriage and my baby daughter taken away from me,” he admits. “I was still beating myself up. At one point, I thought, 'What's the point of living?' but what stopped me from killing myself was my daughter. I didn't want her to grow up without a dad.”
The psychiatrist prescribed medication and EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing therapy) a proven method of helping people recover from trauma. These, Lalani says, helped take the edge off his distress.
As he gradually started to feel better, he came upon an unlikely therapy for a soldier. His aunt had studied Reiki, a method of gentle, spiritual healing where “universal energy” is supposedly channelled through the practitioner's hands and into the patient. Although it has its origins in Buddhism, Reiki fits in with any belief system and, it is said, anyone can learn to do it.
“I was a complete sceptic. When I was a student, my mum told me she was going to have a treatment and I told her she was wasting her money,” he chuckles. “But my aunt pestered me to try it so I did, just to keep her quiet and I was blown away by how relaxed it made me feel. That night I slept better than I had in a long time.”
Astonished by how much Reiki helped him, Lalani trained as a practitioner himself and now runs his own clinic in Guildford, treating adults and children and training people to use it themselves. The anguish of the past is firmly behind him, he says, and life is good again.
“Reiki is like having an energetic hug,” he explains. “The good thing about using it on men is that they don't have to talk. Sometimes going over and over what's happened to you can keep the situation going in your mind. With Reiki, you can just lie there while the practitioner senses where to put their hands.
“I get far more satisfaction from this than working as a doctor,” he confesses. “I know people's names and I can spend time with them. So many people who go to their GP want to offload, but the doctor can only give them five minutes.”
Lalani also gives talks on his experiences in Afghanistan to the British Legion where he is amazed at the number of soldiers who come forward with similar experiences.
“There's a failure in the Army to fully recognise PTSD, which I think reflects the general population's attitude to mental health,” he comments. “I received just £600 compensation for losing my livelihood, my marriage and my health. I would have got more for losing two fingers.”
He recommends that anyone feeling desperately unhappy or anxious should seek advice from their GP as soon as possible. “But there may be people reading this who are in a grey area where they don't feel ill but they don't feel well, either,” he says.
“I would suggest those people start by addressing their basic, physiological needs. Eat properly, take moderate exercise and don't beat yourself up if you don't feel like talking,” he advises. “Remember you're doing the best you can. Look for something to help you move forward, whether that's psychotherapy, acupuncture, sport, or whatever – we're all different. Be confident that you will find something that works for you.”
Ollie Aplin, 30, uses journalling
Ollie Aplin didn't have an easy childhood. His mum, a single parent, suffered from bipolar disorder and life at home was often chaotic and unpredictable. On several occasions she tried to kill herself.
By the time Aplin was 15, he was suffering from anxiety and panic attacks but refused help, believing that discussing his family problems would be betraying his mother.
Tragically, when he was 19, she succeeded in taking her own life. Not long afterwards, Aplin found himself in the grip of a complete mental and emotional breakdown.
“It was the strangest, most terrifying experience of my life,” he explains. “I woke up in the middle of the night and sat bolt upright with a panic attack. But it wouldn't shift,” he continues. “I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I would break down in tears and I was having hallucinations. I thought I had lost my mind.”
Finally, he sought help from a counsellor that, he says, changed his life. Not only did the therapist listen to him and help him make sense of what he had been through, but she also introduced him to journalling.
More than keeping a diary, journalling is about documenting your feelings as a way of understanding yourself better. Aplin, who lives in Brighton, found the practice so helpful that he continues it to this day.
“The first time I tried it, I didn't know what to write about and I sat there in front of a blank page,” he admits. “The counsellor helped me work out what to ask myself and gave me a list of emotions to help me choose a topic.”
Keen to encourage others to take it up, Aplin, a graphic designer, has developed his own workbook-style journal for men that is for sale online. Thirty tasks of differing intensity such as, “What Are Your Goals?” or, “Write a Letter to a Loved-One”, show tentative journallers how they might begin to connect with their own feelings.
“Journalling is a way of keeping myself on track,” he concludes. “I would say to other men, if you don't want to buy a journal, go and get a cheap pad from the supermarket. It's worth a go.”
Rafe, 38, uses equine assisted psychotherapy
Rafe has suffered from bi-polar disorder for more than half his life, a mental health condition characterised by extreme “highs” and “lows”. In his darkest moments, he tried to kill himself.
Happily, these days his life is on an even keel – he is due to get married next year. He has been helped in part, he says, by psychotherapy and medication, though at times he felt like a guinea pig as doctors experimented with different drugs and dosages.
However, 18 months ago, he came across Equine Assisted Psychotherapy (EAP) which, he says, is undoubtedly the best treatment he has ever received. EAP is a practice where a client is encouraged to interact with a horse in a variety of ways. This happens under the supervision of a horse expert and a mental health practitioner. No riding is involved.
The theory is that because horses are sensitive to human emotions, they can mirror a person's behaviour and highlight problems. These issues are then talked over with the psychotherapist with the aim of finding ways of coping with life.
“I've always loved being around horses but working with them in this way adds another dimension,” Rafe, who lives in Sussex, comments. “It's difficult to explain how or why it works but it's magical. It's somehow like having a creature looking into your soul.
“Horses don't care what car you drive or what house you live in, they will just be there for you, he continues. “It's like having someone there to hold your hand. Part of getting better is having a sense of control and finding ways to help yourself,” he concludes, “though it takes time to get to that point. Talking about how you feel is the most important factor.”
Jake McManus, 43, uses climbing
To outside onlookers, electrician Jake McManus has everything going for him. Happily married with two grown-up children, he has a good social life, a mortgage and his own business.
But despite this, he has struggled with feeling low for most of his life, set in motion, he believes, by the death of his mother when he was a child. And although he has had help on-and-off from psychologists over the years, the sadness would never quite shift.
“I think because I hadn't found anything to make me feel more positive, I just went on collecting issues over the years,” he comments.
McManus, who lives in Wigan, hit his lowest period in 2009 when a good friend committed suicide. Life became even more stressful as the recession hit and work started to dry up, leaving him anxious that he might lose his house.
“I began to question my existence and I was finding it hard to leave the house,” he says. “At times, I was delusional. I even thought my dog was out to get me!”
But then, on a family holiday to Andalusia in Spain for his fortieth birthday, he got talking to some other holidaymakers who told him the area was good for rock climbing. A few weeks later he returned to try it for himself and spent four hours clambering up a mountain.
“I sat there at the top in complete disbelief that I had made it,” McManus remembers. “At that moment, something clicked. I knew climbing would help me.”
Part of the appeal, he believes, is that when someone is climbing, they are absorbed in the moment, using their whole body and all their senses. Afterwards, they are tired, hungry and either exhilarated or disappointed, depending on how the climb has gone, leaving little room to dwell on their worries.
McManus now climbs as often as he can and has set up a website to promote mental health and adventure to others. “You might have problems, but you still need to try and have fun. You need to have a laugh,” he advises.
John, 58, uses drumming
“Five years ago, I hit a wall,” says John, an artist and workshop facilitator. “My father-in-law, who I was close to, died. I couldn't sleep, I had mood swings and some days, I couldn't get out of the front door because I was overwhelmed by all the things I needed to do.”
His GP diagnosed anxiety and depression and sent him to a therapy group, which, John says, helped. He also went for individual help from a private psychiatrist who prescribed medication.
“I came to realise that I'd been suffering from these conditions all my life, probably triggered by my dad dying when I was seven,” he explains. “Looking back, I could see many other times when I had, 'hit a wall'.”
John, who lives in Lancashire, also joined a local community drumming class, which he found enormously helpful. Rhythm was part of his make-up – he'd bashed pots and pans as a young child and had been a drummer in rock bands on-and-off for most of his adult life – yet something about drumming with other people, he felt, encouraged healing.
“People talk about the energy release of drumming and that is certainly part of it,” he concedes. “But there's something more mysterious than that in a group. I think humans have an in-built, primitive need to drum and it connects people on a very deep level. Now, if I don't do drumming on a regular basis, the tension builds up.”
John now works as a facilitator himself, helping to run a Lottery-funded project entitled, “Drum Your Way Out of Depression”. Participants play together on African-style drums and use small percussion items like cymbals and bells.
“People worry about getting the beat 'wrong' but that's not possible,” he says. “Everyone finds their own rhythm and slots in. It helps you feel part of the world.”
For information on Drum Your Way Out of Depression, see batcow.co.uk/tidalbeats
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