FAIL
I had to try. I had to see if I could. But sadly, I couldn't. Things didn't quite work out.
I think if there's one word that sums up how we view things nowadays, it's FAIL. You don't quite get what you want and it's FAIL. You don't achieve what you set out to, you FAIL. Someone else doesn't understand what you're saying: FAIL. Fail, fail, fail. Sometimes it feels like we are trapped in a binary world between WIN=1 and FAIL=0. Sometimes, it's not quite that simple, I think, though it certainly feels like a FAIL for now.
Regular readers, bless you, might have guessed what it's a fail about. The rest of you might just have to bear with me while we plough through all this messy personal stuff; if you're not interested, then I really don't mind, by the way - we'll pull our ripcords and float down to Littlejohn-joke Island sometime tomorrow morning, I imagine.
I know some people think you shouldn't write about personal stuff, or that by writing about it publicly you somehow make it worse; but I don't really listen to that at all, and I don't think it's right, either, for what it's worth. This is, I think, what blogging is about - putting yourself into the story, or into what you write, rather than seeing yourself as a camera taking stills of the world. (I see as I write this that yet another "Is blogging journalism?" debate is being kicked around on Twitter at the moment, which I'll happily not be touching with the smellier end of a shitty stick.) One of the things I like about blogging is that it's the expression of yourself in relation to the things you see, and hear, and feel, rather than a simple snapshot of the world, imagining that you're capable of detaching yourself from it. Then it's important to say who you are, and how you feel, from time to time, or as often as you like, I think.
So, to the failure. Check previous entries like this and the other blog I used to write, for the backstory, if you like. Well, it's like this. Turns out it wasn't quite goodbye, or farewell, after all, I'm afraid: because this morning, after a lot of thinking, I gave up giving up. I started taking Prozac, or fluoexetine, or whatever you like to call it, again.
FAIL.
I don't really know what made me start again. It's a combination of things rather than one specific event. But generally it was this: everything just started to fall apart, a bit. Unfortunately, but there you are. Everything had seemed to be in place - as in place as it was ever probably going to be, I think - but I couldn't quite string it all together. Or perhaps I just should face up to the fact that having to take medication is something that I'm going to have to do, just like I take it for other things in my life, and that this is no different, and all the counselling or therapy or whatever else you might try in the meantime isn't going to change all of that. Is it time to face up to that, now? I suppose so. But I would never have known if I hadn't tried. You've got to try, otherwise you'll never know, and you have to know, so you have to try.
I feel disappointed, but not crushed. A little bit hurt, but not beaten. Low, but I've been lower. This isn't as bad as it could be. As I always say, it's only through learning where you're vulnerable that you learn where you're strong. I remember reading once that they knew where to reinforce planes that came back from the Battle of Britain because those were the bits where there weren't any bulletholes. It's only through getting hit, and surviving, you know how strong you really are. It's only through trying, and failing, you know where you succeed, and how you can do better. It's how you deal with it that counts. I'm not weak.
The rather odd thing is that yesterday I got some good news, the best news I've had in ages. Someone actually paid me for something I wrote - the cheque arrived, and no, I wasn't dreaming, it had actually happened. In a strange kind of way, perhaps that makes you look at things differently, when you hit your goals, even in a small way, on a small scale, in a way that matters not very much to anyone else at all, but means the whole world to you. WIN, you might say. The day didn't end up feeling full of WIN, but it doesn't always matter how things end up; what matters more, perhaps, is what happens next.
So what does happen next? I just carry on. A lot of things seem to have fallen apart and taken a knock - another thing that's gone wrong, to add to the list of things that have gone wrong? No, not really. Just a little fail. You don't need the capital letters. A little fail and a little win, within 24 hours of each other. Perhaps that's it. Perhaps if you can belittle the triumph, as much as you can the catastrophe, into as small a thing as you can make it, that makes everything small stuff, manageable, something you can deal with. A little fail, a little win. A little of each every day, it needn't add up to anything sinister, or problematic.
And knowing that you might not be strong enough to cope on your own? That's not a fail. That's strength over time - the strength to realise when you can't cope, and admit you're vulnerable, and need help; better that than blundering blindly along determined and stubborn, and ending up getting really hurt, or ruining things for those you love most.
Don't worry, jokes tomorrow. For now, a pause. It doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would do. It feels OK. Relief, if anything. And now, with help, and the love of those around me, to get the rest of it sorted out. And I will.
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Hello. I'm a Bristol-based writer and soon-to-be-redundant journalist. You can read more about me and the Enemies site here, or follow me on Twitter. Email me if you like - antonvowl at live dot co dot uk
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April 1st, 2010 - 18:49
It doesn’t look like a fail from here. You were much more successful, I think, than you expected to be. Maybe you’ll try again some time, maybe not, maybe with a different outcome. But you really achieved something these last few months.
April 1st, 2010 - 18:52
It’s not a fail. I’m on 60mg fluoxetine a day – a three tablet breakfast. Started on Prozac at sixteen, had some flirtations with quitting and experimented with a few other medicines, legal, prescribed, or otherwise, have but been on the stable 60mg dose since 2003. I’m resigned to being on it for the rest of my life. Instead of a failure to be happy without chemical assistance, I prefer to think of it as a medical condition like asthma or diabetes that requires regular preventative medication.
I know that internet replies to threads about depression are generally a flurry of mawkish nonsense from well-meaning idiots who rattle on about positive thinking and tomorrow being another day all that. I won’t do that. I don’t know you so can’t comment on your problems, only give you my you’re-not-alone speech. What I can say with certainty is that your blog is great. Also, if it’s any consolation, cheerful, shallow people are nearly always cunts.
April 1st, 2010 - 19:41
Good show. I hope this helps, and that the little bit of win from yesterday blossoms further.
Your penultimate paragraph is a wise one. I’ve been wrestling with seeking help for some time now, and its looking like I will finally have to – without hyperbole the last week has for me been about the worst in my life, and it is entirely my own fault. It’s heartening to see someone speaking so maturely: thank you.
April 1st, 2010 - 19:41
You know going back on the meds is not a fail. You’ve realised that something isn’t right and dealt with it, which takes guts. Battling on while things get worse would be a fail.
April 1st, 2010 - 19:46
I’ve been on fluoexetine twice over the last few years and been fine coming off it when I’ve felt more in control of my life. But these last few weeks I’ve gradually become aware of a feeling of inner panic again. And reading this, I realise it’s time to make another GP appointment. So thanks from me.
And I hope it helps you feel more in control again, too.
Oh and in my book, recognising that it’s time to do something before you absolutely need to, is a “win”.
Ignoring it would be a “fail”.
April 1st, 2010 - 20:07
It’s not a failure. It’s just life. You get sick, you take meds to get well again. You wouldn’t think you were a failure if you had to take insulin or have chemotherapy, would you?
So shush apologising for being human.
April 1st, 2010 - 20:10
Taking Fluoxetine is not a fail, IMHO, You are low, you need some help and you are addressing your problem.. Would you consider a diabetic who took insulin to combat their illness to have failed?
I read your ramblings with interest and occasional fury, but normally they are intelligent, well written and funny, so why are you so hard on yourself?
I guess its the stigma of “Mental Illness”, WTF do I know, but you have an illness, it has been diagnosed and is being treated.
Your last paragraph shows you know this to be true
Get well soon
Sincerely
April 1st, 2010 - 20:22
Thank you for writing this. Not a fail. with best wishes, ‘ö–Dzin
April 1st, 2010 - 20:25
Not a win, but not a fail either. You tried but it didn’t work out. You have to take Prozac for the rest of your life, I have to take thyroxene for the rest of mine. It’s not a fault for either of us; it just is, so stop worrying about it and move on. There are so many more worthwhile things to worry about and so many more important issues to get exercised about – so use that excellent brain of yours on those. Onwards and upwards..!
April 1st, 2010 - 22:19
As others have already said, the decision to take anti-deps isn’t a failure of any kind. Not that some stranger saying so in the comments to a blog will mean much to you. I know I felt pretty crappy about it when I finally accepted the realisation that I wasn’t going to “think my way out” of the hole I’d fallen into.
I spent four years taking high doses of venlafaxine (a different anti-dep). While I foolishly saw it as a weakness or a failing some of the time, I can now look back on that time (a couple of weeks ago I reached three years being off them… wahey!) and clearly see the vital role the medication played. We often think of the word “crutch” in a negative sense… but it’s unrealistic — and a little sadistic — to expect someone with a broken leg to walk without one. I actually got the absurd notion into my head that taking medication was “cheating” somehow. As though my life was a game that could be won or lost fairly. But that’s just a nonsense. Feeling bad about lessening your own pain is the self-destructiveness of depression asserting itself.
If the prozac helps you to deal with something that would otherwise overwhelm you, then the fact that you’ve identified this fact and acknowledged it seems like a pretty big WIN to me.
I wouldn’t completely discount therapy as potentially helpful though (naturally I *would* say that being a psychoanalyst and all). But if the medication is doing you some good then don’t feel bad about taking it.
Take care of yourself.
April 1st, 2010 - 23:12
On average I’ll be lucky to get a significant WIN every two years! For the past six years I’ve had a run of FAILS – The problem with me is that I have an absolute phobia of people… I never feel that way when I lived in Europe… my phobia is always worst here in the UK, it isn’t actually a very humanitarian place for the majority of normal people. You are the exceptionally normal… and I say it in a good way : ).
April 2nd, 2010 - 01:14
I don’t think this is failure. It’s not perfect, but life is messy and unpredictable. And above all, life isn’t static – we’re not locked into unchanging states. If you need this now, or in the future, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it also doesn’t mean that it will always be this way. We use all the tools that we can to improve our quality of life. That’s all this is – a tool. It’s not a sign of a personal failing on your part, or a measure of your quality as a person; it just makes some things easier right now. That’s perfectly legitimate.
Congratulations on getting paid for your writing, by the way! You may not immediately have felt perfect, but I find that is often the case with such things. But they add up, and change your life. As you said, what matters is what happens next. It’s all process.
April 2nd, 2010 - 08:54
I wish I could have expressed myself that clearly when I went back to the SSRIs… As above; no FAIL obtains, some conditions require palliative meds and when you recognise the need, you go see the Doc.
Love the blog!
April 2nd, 2010 - 10:36
As said by many above: not a fail, just a fact. Good luck with everything, and congratulations on the cheque!
April 2nd, 2010 - 13:40
It’s a proactive step, that has to be a good thing. I only just, after more than a decade, went and said it out loud in a room with mental health professonals, I’m still trying to work out how I feel about it, so … yeah. My point is, it’s not a fail, a fail would have been letting yourself slide.
April 2nd, 2010 - 14:36
Categorically NOT A #fail #WIN
April 6th, 2010 - 13:05
SO not a fail. If that’s so, then Ievery day is a fail for me and four out of my five best mates. Personally, I think anyday which doesn’t see me chucking myself under a train is a win, and I have nothing of significance wrong in my life at all, except for the giant clinical depression.
Medicine helps, it’s why it’s there. So hush you, and just concentrate on feeling better.
April 12th, 2010 - 19:52
Sorry to dig up and old post, but I’m catching up after a week or so without being able to get near the computer…But just to join the chorus: Not Fail!
Active decision- taking in order to maintain health is not a fail – if only more blokes could think through themselves in the same way, rather than ignoring everything ’til things start to fall off.
And just for the record, you can be confident that you’re writing doesn’t suffer whether you are taking it or not, as there has been no discernible difference in quality between your writing. Good luck with whatever comes next. But keep writing.