Nigel 
December 7th,2009
Yeh yeh,so it's another North York Moors photo. The question you should be asking is how come I lost the top of the sign? Certainly not intentional.
Maybe.
It happens.
In the first article of this series I referred to having crashed a number of times over the last forty years. These break-downs were excellent opportunities to learn. Not pleasant,but not without benefit either. If I’d never pushed myself I might have avoided all but the first collapse,but I wouldn’t have had much of a career and I would have missed out on so many great experiences and failed to meet so many great people. What I’ve learned is to recognise the signs that my head is no longer lying about how much energy I have left.
Trouble is we’re all different. Second trouble is it’s hard to describe internal sensations. What I’ll do is try to indicate the warnings I watch for,and then give some idea how I learned about them.
My own warning signs
The most obvious one,especially if you cross my path,is I get increasingly bad tempered. Anne Sheffield describes this so well in her book,reviewed here. Everything becomes someone else’s fault,and no one is doing the job they’re paid to. Any passing remark can cripple me.
When I realise I can’t stop myself snapping at people I know it’s time to ease back for at least a few days.
I also get physically and mentally exhausted. My body feels like I’m wearing clothes that get heavier by the day. Understanding anything complex becomes tough or impossible. Sleep becomes disturbed. I start to ache a bit like with flu.
I know there are other signs,but I only recognise them when they appear. The trick is to wake up and respond when they arrive,to try my brakes. If the brakes are dodgy then stop driving while it’s still uphill.
PS I’ve remembered another sign. Near collapse I get some kind of lunatic obsession. I suppose it could be anger at all the people who don’t understand which way round the toilet roll has to go on its bar,but I’ve never actually had that one. Once I began to dread teaching a small bit of algebra. Somehow I got it into my head that unless I could write a piece of software to illustrate what was happening (not easy in 1984!) then they wouldn’t understand. This was despite having successfully taught it many times before. On another occasion I wanted to start a one man crusade against kids not bothering to be on time for their first lesson after break. Sadly not everyone who develops this kind of lopsided and mildly insane obsession has a break down,but for me it should have been (but often wasn’t) a serious warning sign. If I was still teaching it’s something I’d ask selected colleagues and friends to watch out for on my behalf.
How did I find out?
Er,the hard way. Like I found out most things that matter.
I’d keep pushing myself until I cracked. Then of course I’d need significant time off work to recover. Later I’d think back:what was different about the period leading up to the breakdown? Could I have handled it better? And I started to listen to my own feelings,both physical and psychological,and slowly caught on.
Looking back,there have been periods of deeper depression when I’ve kept going okay with just a few rests. These have felt different,but not in the same way as the last few weeks before a crash. The trick is to learn which rough feelings are livable and which indicate a need to ease off.
What’s the fix?
It’s now just over five years since the last time I let things go too far. That breakdown led to retiring a few years early from teaching. I don’t always catch myself in time,but usually I do these days. For me the trick is to ease off,stop expecting anything from myself,give my head a chance to sort itself out. Sometimes I have to lie down for a day or two,but I’m watching for when I’m ready to get up and maybe get dressed. Sometimes playing computer games for a few days is sufficient escape from real life. Then I need to start working at stuff again –though gently at first. Life is for living,but it doesn’t just happen. We have to accept our own share of responsibility.
We also need to live when the sun shines,learn to remember the bright days,and accept that other days are overcast. Even then there is life to live. Okay,so occasionally it’s not overcast it’s black. Nothing makes sense except feeling sorry for myself and maybe crying. My head tells me I’ll never be well again,life will no more provide any kind of pleasure or fulfillment. My head lies. It’s sick. I just have to survive and wait. A better time always comes.
Don’t moan about the bad times. Enjoy and value the good times,the times we can benefit the people around us who also have a hard battle to fight each in their own way.
