Thinking in ink.

I’m sat on the train, hurtling towards sleepy Somerset, and towards a family I last saw nine months ago. With me is Aaron, along with a copy of ‘Living Better’ – Alistair Campbell’s book on his own depression and how he’s learned to cope with it over many years. 

The book was a gift, a Christmas present from Declan, my twin brother, who posted it to me a few weeks after the family managed to host a delayed Christmas yet I was still stuck in London unable to return. In the box, along with this brilliant book, were a couple of cans of beer, some sweets, a shit-ton of glitter and some homemade brownies.

I’m so grateful for this care package, sent in the depths of England’s third lockdown, when the nights were long, the weather awful and nothing seemed to be working in the fight against this pandemic. 

Like Alistair, much of my life has been focused on politics, and like him I have also continued to learn  about my own struggle with mental health. Often, it’s so isolating a condition that one is unable to put into words the feeling. 

For me, the signs are less a cloud looming, but a desaturation of the world around me. Everything becomes grey and sanitised so that all the joy of living has been removed. There are days when I can’t get up, days where I can do little more than refresh my emails but not tackle any sort of reply, days when calls just get sent to voicemail. 

By reading about it, from another’s perspective, it somewhat validates a condition often shrugged off by others. Frequently, I feel like I should ‘man up’ (a phrase I hate so much for its emphasis on how a ‘man’ is expected to act) and get on with things.

Lockdown has been tough, life with coronavirus has been difficult, the world now scarred forever by a pandemic that cost us millions of innocent lives.

Through it though, I also have learnt to value things that previously I’d have given little mind to. Solidified is my belief in regular exercise. Before the restrictions came in, I’d attend swing dancing lessons for not just the exercise but the socialising, along with trying to run at least a couple of times a week. 

During the first lockdown, when I chose to spend it in Somerset rather than my flat share in Lambeth, I set myself the goal to run a half-marathon, working on a plan that would allow me to not only cover the distance, but achieve a respectable time. I was pleased to be able to say that I achieved this goal, running it one hour fifty two minutes. 

Also important for me is the need to feel like I’m contributing. Politics, unless you’re an elected representative taking difficult decisions, wasn’t considered (understandably) a key role so the world of a campaigner, as with many colleagues and friends, was turned upside down. In lieu of any ground campaign, I volunteered to work at Yeovil Hospital twice a week and was assigned to Ward 8B – the stroke ward. 

I’d walk to the hospital and back, fitting in other calls and Zoom meetings, mostly discussing the Lib Dem leadership election and Ed Davey’s leadership campaign that I was working on. 

Whilst others suffered financial losses that will take a decade to recover from, such as the millions of self-employed – the backbone of our economy – that were left to fend for themselves, I was lucky. My role as a campaigner continued albeit working on a campaign the length of which was unknown (and to this day, still is). 

In ‘Living Better’, Alistair added a postscript to explain the delay of the book and acknowledge a world changed completely. He writes about how those who have experienced depression may have been able to cope better with the coronavirus pandemic because we have the tools needed. For those who have never had mental health conditions, this was a taste of the reality many face. 

I, too, have my good days and my bad. I am being kinder with myself on the days when I can’t face the world, accepting that this is part of the ebb and flow of life. I force myself out for a run even when I don’t want to, and treat myself with a coffee from the local Italian deli. And I bought a plant to bring some colour into an otherwise white and sterile room. 

So much of what we have gone through over the past year or so has been traumatic. Whether the vaccination programme will allow a return to a similar world of that we knew before remains to be seen, and how long it will take to recover is still a mystery. 

Unlike Alistair Campbell, one thing I haven’t been able to do much is write. Not because of unwilling, but because of a feeling of helplessness – the exact motivation for his ability to rant and ramble was the cause of my staying mute. It’s something that I’ve dearly missed, but with nothing to contribute to the conversation, I remained silent. 

In my world, I get sucked into campaigns too, and find writing of any kind the first thing to be sacrificed. Time is of the essence and if you have time to write copy for a blog post, you have time to design a leaflet, call activists or arrange meetings. 

But it is one of my biggest regrets, this lack of ‘thinking in ink’ as Campbell puts it. I look back at the past two or so years, working and volunteering on numerous campaigns: the snap European elections in 2019; the snap General election of the same year; the Lib Dem leadership election also in 2019; the London elections, due to be held in May 2020, but then postponed; a second Lib Dem leadership election in 2020 after Jo Swinson lost her seat in Westminster; and most recently the delayed London elections, along with an important council by-election earlier this month. 

It’s been a turbulent time in politics, ever since I started my career back in 2013. Almost a decade later, and we’re still no closer to a real solution on the idea of Britishness and our place in the modern world. And in the boundless desire for Brexit by the Conservatives, we risk more uncertainty as Scotland yearns for independence, setting a dangerous precedence for Wales and Northern Ireland to follow suit, both in their own ways.

Alas, in the wake of a crisis, another will appear, and when we come to the staggering impact of coronavirus on the world’s mental health, I hope (optimistically) that our Government take it seriously – it will surprise few that a mental health epidemic has already crossed over the horizon and will continue to have a lasting effect on our society.