I am running for MQ Mental Health Research, an organisation which specialises in getting to the core of what contributes to poor mental health.

I have suffered with poor mental health for a number of years. In fact, the earliest I can remember addressing the sensation that something was "ticking in my head and going to explode" was at primary school age. Over the course of my teens and young adulthood, I have been met with varied standards of care, from extremely disappointing to utterly life transforming and this is something I think I would like to try to write about in the future.

Even as conversations around depression, anxiety and other serious psychological conditions are improving, it's very difficult for me to know how much to share and what is safe to do so, certainly from a professional point of view; although a cursory glance over my social media output would suggest measured discourse, around the inner workings of my emotional collapse, is preferable to diatribe and socio-political commentary 👀

In 2017, I was so lucky to work with an incredible NHS therapist, who finally reached a more precise diagnosis and so, appropriate treatment could commence. I worked with her for 18 months and the improvements to every aspect of my life were vast and noticeable to all.

It's easy to see recovery as linear, a = ill, b = cured. Unfortunately, progress is steady and constant and there are a number of external influences, which can trigger major depressive episodes and/or chaotic and impulsive anxiety driven behaviours.

Since 2018, I had been really good at spotting the signs and putting safety plans into action to prevent negative thoughts, disappointments and low moods reach crisis point. However, a number of difficulties cumulating over the past 12 months, the main one being a move back to a very different, lonely and outrageously expensive London, have made the struggle a lot harder.

For a long time I refused to believe I could ever feel as low as the various episodes I'd experienced in the past and so marched on; working 50 hours per week, burning the candle at both ends, not talking to anybody about how I felt and slowly unravelling.

It would be OK because I'd had therapy, I'd read books, I'd got healthy, I had strategies, I was cured, I could never experience that particular level of despair again...

...it's a horrible thing to have to accept that this simply isn't true. Among my diagnoses is Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (to a greater or lesser extent I think we all suffer with elements of this) and we just cannot know what or how life's variables will trip that complex switch.

Fortunately, though exhausted and burnt out, the will to survive is fierce. For anyone else suffering, when it looks the least pretty is when you're fighting the hardest, so don't doubt your strength or how much you want to be here. Anyone who has felt the heft of the duvet pinning them to the bed each morning, or sat on the kitchen floor all day because the lever on the toaster was too heavy to push down, knows what depths of durability are within people whose minds are not always serving them. Those working through any mental health battle are among the most tenacious on the planet!

I am currently working with a therapist and, after much persuasion, taking Sertraline, with the latter helping enormously.

Running has also been a sure-fire way to improve my mood and set the foundations for healthy choices...

...and so here we are; I signed up to the Hackney Half Marathon and am seeking sponsorship. I am woefully underprepared, who knew a daily diet of pizza, wine and bed rotting was not ample training (I've also suffered a couple of injuries).

I considered cancelling, as the last three months have been bleak, but as I emerge out of this latest challenge, I just want to get round! So no performance targets, no fanfare, I just want to get through because sometimes that's all we can do and that's good enough!