Anxiety and Me...
Harrison (our youngest son) has been nagging me for a while to write
some more blog posts. I've kept putting it off because I didn’t think I had
much that was interesting to say. It might be that what I’m about to say now
isn’t that interesting but that what I say is read by someone who can recognise
what I have to say in themselves and do better than I’ve done. So here
goes...
It turns out I’m not as clever as I thought I was (yes, I'm already
thinking of the humorous responses to that from friends, family and
colleagues). Turns out I’m a dumbass.
Don’t get me wrong I’d like to think I’m clever enough to hold my own in
conversations about most subjects. There are some topics I like to think I can
do very well in when it comes to conversations. Depending on who you speak to (for
example - the current Mrs Byrom) it might be the topic of sports facts that
nobody can ever make use of for example.
It turns out what I’m not so clever at is trying to beat anxiety and
stress. Something a doctor confirmed to me a couple of weeks ago. You see, I
thought I was mentally tough enough to cope with anything life threw at me. All
I’d based this on was how I thought I’d dealt with losing my mother-in-law
suddenly, nearly losing my wife and then our eldest son being stillborn – all
in the space of three months back in 2004.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
I’d sat and watched programmes like ‘SAS
Are You Tough Enough’ and realised that physically I wouldn’t be up to those
challenges, but I thought that I was mentally tough enough. Turns out all I was
good at was not taking my own advice and pushing my own feelings to one side
and powering through.
I did this not because I was afraid of showing weakness but because I
didn’t want to take a break from any of my commitments and let people down. I
did it because although I always try and make myself available for others, I
didn’t want to burden others with what was going on in my head.
It's not that I didn’t have plenty of friends I could speak to,
it's just that when I thought about approaching one of them I felt bad because
they’ve all got their own things going on and didn’t need to be bothered with
what I tried to rationale in my own head, as trivialities.
Problem was those trivialities were things like dealing with the death
of my father. Trivialities like my wife having issues with her dialysis machine
being broken down over a long period of time and many trips to Southmead
Hospital for her to have dialysis. Trivialities like the prospect of her being
activated on the transplant list in the New Year in hope of receiving a kidney
and all the things running through my head about that.
Turns out I am a dumbass.
Since mid-June all these things had begun building up.
It started with my dad being taken into hospital with a suspected chest
infection that 10 days later was sepsis that was attacking his organs and his
kidneys had shut down. From experience (speaking to Denise’s kidney doctors) I
knew he had (at most) 2-3 weeks before he passed away. As it turns out he took
the whole three weeks before passing away in the early hours of 3rd July.
I went into ‘bloke mode’ (funny thing is my nickname at college was
‘bloke’ but that’s another story). I went around getting his death registered,
notifying family members and friends who needed to be told that dad had passed
away and then making those same phone calls once the arrangements had been
made. There were arguments with family members who hadn’t had a lot of contact
with dad over the last 10 years or so and didn’t like it that dad’s (and our)
wishes weren’t the same as theirs.
It was at this time I started doing things that I realise were a bit
daft.
On the evening of the day that my dad died I went ahead with a meeting
of the Sands United Football team I was setting up. All the guys in the team
would have understood if I’d have not turned up or cancelled the meeting. My
dad had told me, not long before he was taken ill, that he was proud of me
setting up the football team and of all the other guys around the country doing
the same. So, I felt I had to go ahead with the meeting. The support I got from
the guys in the Bristol team and from the other managers around the country was
amazing.
On the evening of dad's funeral, it was our monthly support
meeting for Bristol Sands. I was now a trained befriender. I should’ve given
the meeting a miss or at worst gone along just as a bereaved parent and not a
befriender. I definitely needed a night off. Physically and mentally I was
shattered. I figured that Dad’s funeral was over and there wasn’t anything I
could do that evening if I stayed at home that night.
On both occasions I justified my attendance partly because of how proud
I knew my dad was of what I was doing and the work that Bristol Sands does.
Partly because I’d made commitments to the football team and to Bristol Sands.
If I’m honest about it, the main reason I did these things was because I didn’t
want to deal with dad’s death. I knew I’d have to at some point, but
I just wanted to wait until I was ready to deal with it. To deal with it when
it was convenient for me.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
As I’m writing this, I’ve also remembered something else that come up. I
had a job interview. In London. The day before dad’s funeral. For any
other job I probably would have tried to reorganise the interview. This was a
job working for Sands as the Sands United Fundraising & Relationship
Manager. I love volunteering with Sands and for my role with Sand United
Bristol. This was an opportunity to work for Sands and help develop the Sands
United brand further. A dream job.
So, here I was in my multi-purpose suit (it does weddings, job
interviews, funerals and bar mitzvahs) on the mega bus going to London for the
interview.
There was no way I should’ve been on that bus. I’d written my
presentation and felt like a fraud. There was no way I was good enough for this
job. I should’ve rung up and apologised and cancelled the interview. I
should’ve got off the coach at Victoria Coach station, had a coffee and got the
next coach back. What was keeping me on the coach and got me standing up in
front of the interview panel was thinking about my dad. It was thinking about
the handful of people I’d told about the interview. It was not wanting to seem
like a coward to them. It was not wanting to let them down.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
Once dad's funeral was over, rather than take some time to deal and cope
with him dying, I found something else to throw myself into – organising Sands
United Bristol FC’s launch game. This was now August and
work was also busy. Most of the month of August, the transport team I
work on is down to two of us at any one time as one of the three that makes up
the entire team is on annual leave in August so our individual workloads go up.
This was another reason I didn’t take any time for myself. I didn’t want to let
work down and leave just one guy doing three guys’ work.
I’d be at it all day in work and then spend the evenings either replying
to messages about the football or helping my wife with dialysis while trying to
check on my mum and my brother and see how they were doing.
This cycle of madness carried on through September – our launch game was
at the end of September. Our launch game was an amazing occasion. We raised
over £1,100 for
the Sands United Bristol FC team [SC1] and created an amazing event - despite coming 2nd to our brothers from Cardiff in the match.
Any sensible person would have tried to take a break then. The morning
after the game should’ve been the wake-up call I needed. I woke up in
a lot of physical pain but also felt empty. Months of effort to get the launch
game going had come to an end and I had nothing to replace it. I’d gone from
waiting to deal with the death of my dad to trying to beat dealing with it and
get past the point I needed to.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
Instead of taking a breather and taking time to deal with all the
emotion of everything that had happened, I threw myself into something else: At
the beginning of October was ‘Baby Loss Awareness Week’. Before my dad had
passed away, I’d come up with the idea of highlighting stories of baby loss
from different perspectives – a mother, a father, a sibling, a midwife etc. I’d
done this thinking that I’d get peoples submissions, format them and publish
them across social media channels and that would be it. I didn’t realise how
mentally draining it’d be reading those stories while publishing them.
When I came up with the idea of doing this there were two things that
happened that I couldn’t anticipate happening at the same time. The first
thing was a really positive thing that I didn’t (and am still not sure) how to
deal with. I was nominated for and won a Volunteer of the Year award from Sands.
Don’t get me wrong it is a massive honour to be nominated by other amazing
volunteers within Sands and to receive the award. It’s just I don’t think of
myself as being anything other than a small fish in the big pond that is Sands.
Like all of the other volunteers that inspire me and am lucky enough to
call friends, I’m just doing what I can. I’m aware of others who I think do as
much and have a bigger impact than me. It is just so humbling to think that
others have taken the time to nominate me. As pleased as I was to be told I was
receiving the award, there are two things I get uncomfortable with – sympathy
and compliments. I’d never had a compliment like this before.
The second thing was most definitely not positive. As I mentioned before
Denise has dialysis. We’re lucky enough to have a machine installed at home to
try and reduce the impact on our lives (dialysis takes 5hrs [SC2] every other day). However, these machines break
down every now and then. We’ve been lucky with the reliability of the machines.
Until now. We went through a six-week period where Denise’s machine was
constantly broken. This meant trips to Southmead Hospital (a 50-mile round
trip) every other day and mainly after I’d been at work all day. The odd trip
isn’t too bad. Doing it for nearly six weeks is a bit of a choker.
After a week or so of these trips I really felt myself struggling
mentally to cope with it. I was sat in the hospital feeling teary. I felt like
I was constantly on edge. Normally I could sit while Denise was on dialysis and
read a book for the whole time, I was now struggling to concentrate on watching
films I’d watched several times. I thought all of this was related to Denise
having to go to Southmead Hospital, but I couldn’t work out why. It wasn’t the
first time we’d had to make these trips. It wasn’t the first year of Denise
being on dialysis – it was approaching the 16th year. It took a few nights for me to realise what was causing me
to struggle. The satellite dialysis unit at the hospital was smack bang
opposite the maternity unit that our eldest son Thomas had been born sleeping
at. It was probably the closest we’d been to ‘returning to the scene of the
crime’ in all that time and it had subconsciously been piling on top of
everything else. Once I realised what was getting to me, I thought that was it,
that just by recognising it I’d dealt with it.
So far, I’d not dealt with my dad passing away, I’d had an interview for
a job I really wanted that had become vacant at a less than ideal time, I’d
thrown myself into organising a launch game, I’d kept up with my commitments to
Bristol Sands, I was trying to help my wife through the punishing schedule of
work and long trips for dialysis and then this. I hadn’t yet broken, so I
thought that I’d beaten it and had come out the other side unscathed – despite displaying
all the symptoms of anxiety.
I looked back and apart from feeling a bit tired was thinking I’d been
mentally tough enough to ride it all out.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
By now it was November. It was time finally to think about calming down
a bit and relaxing and looking after myself. At least that’s what I’d tell
parents I speak to at support groups. No not me. There was another football
game to be organised and the Sands’ annual conference where I’d receive my
award along with the other winners was on the horizon. Despite a couple of very
good friends from Bristol Sands having words with me about why I was getting
the award, I was still finding it difficult to get my head around it.
I was also starting to realise I had been a dumbass for not dealing with
my dad passing away. For putting it off; something I’d confided in to my wife
and a couple of friends (John, Kaeti, Aimee, Hayley, Michelle and Natalie to
name a few). I was realising I was heading for a fall and was trying to
anticipate it. Not so I could push it to one side but so I could be ready for
it. Although I was realising I’d been a dumbass, I was still being a
dumbass for thinking I could anticipate it. I kept thinking if I could get past
the next thing I was doing, I could deal with everything then. The trouble was
I kept looking for things to do to avoid it. I promised myself that after the Sands
conference I’d catch up on my university work (oh yes, I’m studying through the
Open University for a Psychology degree in my ‘spare time’), I’d get to
Christmas when there would be a natural break and take that time as an
opportunity to recharge physically and mentally.
Turns out (yet again) I’m a dumbass.
I’d never been to a Sands conference before. Turns out that as
emotionally draining and overwhelming as it was, it probably saved me from
myself. What was overwhelming about it? There were many things that were
overwhelming. The first was the number of people outside of Bristol Sands that
recognised me and wanted to speak to me. I just think of myself of being ‘Pete
from Bristol Sands who does a bit of social media stuff and runs the football
team.’ It's strange when you find out what an impact that makes outside of the
Bristol Sands area.
After co-hosting a workshop on how the death of a baby impacts
on dads, I found it overwhelming that people were coming up to me and asking
for advice on how to help reach out to more dads. I’m just Pete from Bristol
Sands and people are asking me for ideas?? The most overwhelming part was
receiving one of the Volunteer of the Year awards. It was overwhelming to think
people had taken the time to nominate me, to think that ‘Pete from Bristol
Sands’ had made that sort of impact.
At the end of the conference as we were all stood around saying goodbye
to people and enjoying a glass of prosecco, it was Roxanne (my friend from
Bristol Sands) who was probably the first person (even before me) who
recognised how overwhelming the day had been for me. I was really touched that
she’d noticed and was talking to me about it. It really helped calm me down
before we started our journey home. I was gutted that I was not getting the
same train home as my Bristol Sands friends (Roxanne, John, Hilary and Anna). I
can look back now and see that I could’ve done with the company rather than
have a couple of hours to myself and in the company of my own mind.
There were one or two moments on the journey back where I started to
well up thinking of all that had happened over the last few months. After I got
off the train at Weston, I felt different, almost calm. I did think to myself
that I’d won. That I had beaten the anxiety and depression that I’d been
anticipating for months. The fall that I was expecting.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
It was a Facebook post the next day that broke me and made me realise I
hadn’t begun to deal with these issues. It made me realise I hadn’t looked
after myself mentally at all. It was my wife (the current Mrs Byrom) who had
written that post on Facebook. I was trying to get comfortable with winning the
award. So, decided to post a picture of it on Facebook. Denise made this
comment -
‘So proud of my husband whose commitment to Sands
is constant and who always carries on trying to help others – regardless of the
grief he feels – especially following the loss of his father this year and the
loss of our son which is always in his mind and heart. Peter – I know while you
seem externally to be fine you need to be kind to yourself and ask for support
and understanding when you need it and share your feelings – others assume you
are there for them but do not think of you as they are thinking only
of themselves – grief is a selfish mistress’
Ten minutes later when I finished crying, I realised I was a dumbass and
needed to do something. I thought I was clever enough to either deal with all
the emotions the experiences of the last few months when I was ready or that I
could get past them altogether. I’d read what the symptoms of anxiety and
depression are. I’d recognised them in myself. I just thought I could live with
them.
Turns out I’m a dumbass.
On Wednesday 27th November, after talking to Denise and the
managing director of the company I work for I went to the doctors and told him
how I was feeling and what had happened over the last few months. Probably
about 12 seconds into what I told him he’d made one of the easiest diagnosis of
his career. The doctor signed me off work for a couple of weeks. I’d been
diagnosed with anxiety and stress. It actually felt good to be told that. It
felt like a weight had been lifted – for someone to tell me that.
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time at home just
relaxing and clearing my mind. I’ve taken time away from most of the things
that had been keeping me going for the last few months. Unusually for me I’ve
spoken to some friends and told them how I’ve been feeling and what has been
going on.
Now it’s time to tell everyone.
I hope by telling you all what’s been going on that it might help
someone to not make the same mistakes I’ve made. I hope that someone else
reading this might recognise some of these symptoms and seek help themselves.
That help might take different forms. It might be that help is a visit to
the doctors. It might be that help is having a conversation with someone
about how you’re feeling whether it’s with a professional or with a
friend.
Below is a link to the NHS website where you can find the symptoms of
anxiety and depression. There are also the contact details of Sands and
Samaritans who can be contacted if you need support.
Please take a minute to look at these. I have and I’m trying not to
be such a dumbass!!
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