8/12 - The Moment I Could Have Been Labelled With Depression or Bi-Polar

“So how can I help you today?” the doctor asked, as my wife and I sat down in her room.

I began explaining what had been happening internally.

For the past week, I had barely slept. I was waking in the middle of the night. My mind was racing. Thoughts wouldn’t settle. There was a restlessness I couldn’t switch off.

I explained that I ran a growing business. It was going well. Sales were increasing. The team was expanding. We worked with credible, world renowned brands. I was speaking, training, leading. From the outside, everything looked strong.

But internally, something wasn’t right.

I told her that a few years earlier I had seen a psychologist for around six months. At the time, I believed I had worked through what needed to be worked through. I felt stable. So I ended the sessions.

I also explained that 18 months prior, during that therapeutic work, I had opened up about my childhood and teenage years, including the abuse.

The doctor listened carefully.

I explained that this wasn’t constant. I wasn’t always low. In fact, much of the time I was positive, upbeat, energised. Family life could be wonderful. Business could feel exciting.

But then something would shift.

My thoughts would accelerate. Worry would increase. Fear would re-surface. Sleep would deteriorate. And it would, once again, be affecting my relationship with my wife.

I then shared something that had sat quietly in the background of my life for years.

My dad had been diagnosed in his twenties with manic depression. I had grown up observing both the highs and the lows. Periods where everything seemed joyful and light. Other periods where the internal battle was clearly severe.

As I approached the age my dad had been when he was diagnosed, I carried an unspoken fear:

What if the same thing happens to me?
What if I am going to be given the same diagnosis as my dad?

Sitting in that doctor’s room, describing my internal world out loud, I suddenly recognised how many parallels there appeared to be. The fluctuating states. The racing mind. The sleep disturbance.

There was a part of me quietly preparing to receive a diagnosis.

The doctor summarised what she had heard.

Then she said:

“I could prescribe you antidepressants for an initial three-month course. They would likely help you sleep. I’d ask you to come back in a month to review.

But I don’t want to do that. I don’t believe that’s the right thing for you. That would be covering over the cracks.

What I believe you need to do, Paul, is contact the psychologist you saw 18 months ago and go back to see him. That’s what I think would serve you best.

But what do I know? I’m just a bog-standard doctor.”

In that moment, I knew she was right.

I decided immediately that I would call Mike and book back in.

But something else struck me.

Why had she just described herself as “just a bog-standard doctor” after giving what I believed was deeply wise advice?

I didn’t say anything. But it stayed with me.

My wife and I returned to the car. She asked how I felt. I said I was going to ring Mike.

I did so straight away. He answered. I booked my next session - 18 months after believing I had fully healed.

As I reflect back now, I recognise how close I was that day to receiving a diagnosis - depression, possibly bipolar - and beginning medication.

I can only imagine how many 100s of millions of men, women, teenagers and even children are currently living with a mental health diagnosis by man, and moreso, how many are currently taking drugs each day.

It could have happened in that room. It would not have been dramatic. It would have been clinical. Procedural. Routine.

A prescription. A label. A review date.

The trajectory of my life, from a mental wellbeing perspective, could have shifted significantly from that moment forward.

I was a few spoken words away from starting a life where you begin taking drugs each day to either suppress or to supposedly help manage whatever are those internal thoughts, feelings and emotions that you've been unable to live a healthy life with.

Instead, I was directed back toward deeper work.

I remain deeply grateful for that doctor’s discernment - and for her decision not to choose the easiest path available in that consultation.