Des Rayner, 73, artist
About ten years ago I went into a deep depression. It was a like a heavy grey cloud descending and enveloping me. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I stopped painting and lost three stone in a very short space of time. I didn’t want to go anywhere or talk to anyone. I had panic attacks on the underground: this terrible sense of being alone, seeing other people chatting and feeling the silence enclosing you. You feel you want to break out and join the living, but you can’t.
At the drop of a hat I’d burst into tears. The first time it happened was in a restaurant when I hid behind the menu. In the end I went into a clinic and was there for the best part of three weeks during which time I had a number of sessions of ECT (Electro-Convulsive Therapy).
Claire wasn’t surprised it had happened. I’d said to her when we got engaged “I want to warn you I’m a bit moody” but it wasn’t until years later that she said “of course what you were really saying was you were a depressive”.
After my session in the clinic we decided to tell friends and family, casually and honestly. You soon find out who your friends are. Unless depression has touched someone, they don’t really understand what it is and often find it embarrassing. There’s still an element of ‘men don’t get depressed’.
A few years ago it happened again. This time we could see it all building up and I went into the clinic for a few days where I received more ECT. I’m still on a maintenance dose of medication which I think of as insulin for diabetics.
Without my consultant I’d be a lot worse off. He’s a brick. He knows I’m a tactile person and when I leave he’ll give me a hug. It might not sound much but it is. He says if I’m in trouble I can phone him any time and has even given me his mobile number. He gives me permission to be myself and not to hide and put up a front all the time.
FACT: Studies suggest that depression occurs as often in men as in women. (Mind, 1998)
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