Lockdown has unleashed my depression – here’s what I’m doing about it

“You seem happy,” a friend emailed from Ireland a couple of weeks ago. “Judging from your blogs and your social media, it looks like you’re having a ball.” Well, I’m not. The dip in mood was coming anyway; but five weeks and three days into lockdown (first by choice, then by government order), here it is.

Most of my life I have had ups and downs, though I have been lucky in the last few months to have had more ups than downs. Looking back, I can see that my recent manic output may have been exactly that. If I take a look at this piece on my website and add in that I have finished one book (fiction) and am well into another (non-fiction), and have developed an obsession with beautiful trees so strong that I have begun fantasising about a global tree Olympics, and perhaps I need to recognise that what an old friend used to call my “demonic energy” has been too demonic.

I noticed the signs three days ago. Poor sleep is always a danger signal and I had had weeks of it. So though I slept through the night for the first time in ages, I woke feeling empty, my head foggy; not the truly deadening feeling that comes when it is a major depression, but the beginning pangs of it.

I always tell my partner straight away. I never used to, but now it helps. I got up, shaved, brushed my teeth. This may sound trivial – it’s not. When I feel that dip coming on, personal hygiene can be the first thing to go. Throw on the same clothes as yesterday. Don’t worry about how you look; worry only about how you feel.

I took my antidepressant, sertraline. I’ve done that every day for years, and in recent months – this has been a good, long run – I have even laughed as I have done so. I have this strange habit of serenading Fiona [Miller] to the tune of “Flower of Scotland”, and making up the words as I go according to where we are and what we are doing. Last week, it was:

Oh power of sertraline, 
What would I do,
Without my pills?
I’m taking them right now,
To keep my head on the straight,
And f*****g narrow,
Another day beckons,
How lucky are we both,
To be alive.

Sometimes it makes Fiona laugh; sometimes it makes her worried. She tolerates it, but she knows it is a warning sign when I’ve got a verse for the bathroom, a verse for the stairs, and another for the kitchen.

Oh flower of porridge,
What shall we put,
Upon you now?
Banana or honey?
Or eat you just as you are?
Then get our boots on,
And go for a walk with
Our wonderful dog called Skye 
Who gives us joy.

You get the picture. But three days ago, I was not singing. I was not messing around. We went for the daily walk; but, whereas most days I might photograph forty trees, and urge friends to send me pictures to enter my Tree of the Day contest, that day I took three and hoped friends would send none

The next day, I award my gold medal to a tree that is dead, flat on its back, a bit ugly, and the other medals to trees that look like they have given up on how they look. When day two of the dip is worse than day one, as this was, my worry is that the dip will turn to plunge. I’m not there yet. It’s why I am writing: I think in ink (see point 11 below).

So I looked up that piece I wrote when lockdown was starting and, being the happy chap that I was, I was advising everyone how to stave off depression and anxiety, like some kind of doctor to the nation. Reading it now, I can see I was a bit manic.

It’s helpful, though, to look at that guide in a very different mood, and think about how I might apply it now. The full version is here. I have edited down the 20 recommendations, and put in brackets, in bold, my thoughts as to how I might try to use them now, today:

1. Look after the people closest to you.

I will try to be kind to Fiona all day. I will call all of the kids, and my sister. I will try to do one practical thing for them, large or small, after each call.

Low mood means low energy. The temptation to do nothing is strong. Try to resist it. I found an excuse not to go for a walk this morning, and I have tried to cancel two Zoom meetings. I am going to reinstate them now, and walk later.

3. Exercise

Always important, more so now. Having missed the walk, I am setting my alarm for 2pm. I will do an hour on my exercise bike.

4. Watch your diet

Early fail. When Fiona was out with the dog, I ate a huge flapjack. Loads of fruit from now on. I will give a miss to my daily ritual, on the sofa with Skye, during the government briefing, of sharing a half bag of Kettle Chips.

5. Watch the booze

Drink nothing tonight.

6. Sleep a lot

Bed before 10 tonight.

7. Read books not newspapers

I have been writing loads, but not reading enough. A friend sent me a book of great historical trees. I am going to start to read it this afternoon.

8. Cut down on social media

I will do five tweets today, and one Instagram post for my Tree of the Day. No more.

9. Listen to music regularly

I will listen to Brel and Elvis, Piaf and Abba, when on the bike.

10. Even better: make music

Bagpipes out later. I will play “Everyday Heroes”, the charity song I made as a guest piper with Scottish band Skerryvore, and try to recapture some of the feeling I had when they sent me a message to say it had hit number one in the iTunes chart.

11. Think in ink

Marilyn Monroe said that and it is a motto I follow. (I am certainly doing that right now.)

12. Keep in touch with the people you would normally be in touch with, but who you are not seeing face-to-face

Kids, done. Sister, to do. Others, later.

13. Get in touch with someone you’ve lost contact with

I have not spoken to John Prescott for a while. I will do that today.

14. Do something good for someone else every day

Have just added to the Captain Tom Moore fund. Have sent emails to two students asking for an interview to help with dissertations, saying yes.

15. Try easy things if you are finding it hard to do difficult things

Tidied desk.

16. Stay curious

We have recently downloaded a birdsong recognition app. I will go out with the dog later, and take the app with me.

17. Enjoy nature

See 16.

18. Remember that the crisis will end

This dip is not yet a crisis plunge.

19. Keep things in perspective

This one is easy, so far.

20. Get good out of bad

There is an opportunity in every setback. Writing a piece about it will help, and will hopefully help others.

Fiona always asks what triggers my mood switches, and I never know the answer. It might be the lockdown. It might be that for all the demonically energetic thousands of words I have written about ways the government and media might improve their handling of the crisis, I’m not sure it has made a blind bit of difference. It might be the lack of sleep. It might be that the day I am writing this would have been my Mum’s 94th birthday, tomorrow my Dad’s 98th. It might be cyclical.

It might be that I have finally caved to the inevitable, and agreed with my publisher to postpone my next book, due out a month today. I put my heart and soul into it, definitely the most personal and challenging thing I have ever written, and I was keen to get it out, and had fixed up dozens of events and interviews – all now parked. They have also persuaded me to change the title. It was Better to Live, but they worry that might seem insensitive when so many are dying, so I have changed it to Living Better. Writing it may well have been a reason I have been in such good nick recently, living better indeed. Having the plans thrown up in the air might well have been a trigger for the dip, I just don’t know.

What I do know is that I am about to get out my bagpipes. I will play a lament before I play “Everyday Heroes” and hope that Sissy Bridge, the nurse who lives next door, hears it, along with the tune I wrote for her three weeks ago, “Our Nurses, Our Neighbours”, when I was feeling a lot more creative than I do right now.

If you are experiencing feelings of distress and isolation, or are struggling to cope, The Samaritans offer support; you can speak to someone for free over the phone, in confidence, on 116 123 (UK and ROI), email jo@samaritans.org, or visit the Samaritans website to find details of your nearest branch.

For services local to you, the national mental health database – Hub of Hope – allows you to enter your postcode to search for organisations and charities who offer mental health advice and support in your area