Why a mental breakdown was the best thing that ever happened to me.
By: Jonathan Shanahan
Tags: Happiness, Overcoming Obstacles, Mental Health, Recovery, Drugs

When I first decided to write this blog, I didn’t really know what it should be. I just had a feeling that it should be. A feeling that it might help me, and, hopefully, help others as well. But before I get into all of that, let me explain how I got to this point in the first place.

When I was in my teens, I was, to put it mildly, not happy. It started when I changed school; a combination of family drama, not fitting in with my new peers, and the type of mind that naturally gravitates towards nihilistic rumination left me feeling lonely, alienated and, more often than not, miserable. I did well enough academically but I had no direction, no sense of who I was. I didn’t know what I wanted and I was, without even realising it, searching for something to fill the void that this left. I found it.

Most people who end up with a drug habit describe a fateful moment of ‘discovery’, often in the form of an introduction from a friend, or peer pressure at a party. But I didn’t discover drugs, I actively sought them out. One day, at the age of fifteen, I decided I wanted to try getting high. I approached a dealer at school, got ripped off for a tiny bag of weed, failed miserably and repeatedly at rolling a joint, gave up, found my older brothers bong hidden in a cupboard and, after watching a YouTube tutorial on how to use it, proceeded to get so high that I ate a maple syrup sandwich and slept for thirteen hours straight.

It wasn’t fun, at all, but for some reason I couldn’t wait to do it again. From that point on I enthusiastically applied myself to the endeavour of altering my consciousness on a daily basis. As I began experimenting with various types of drugs I inevitably fell in with a friend group who shared my passion for substance abuse, and this newfound social acceptance was as potent as the drugs I was taking. For the next two years, I embarked on a crusade of self destruction. My friend group evolved, with more moderate users and those who expressed concern about my developing habits quickly replaced with people as committed to their own downward spirals as I was to mine.

And so it went on. The terrible thing about drugs is that they seem to offer the solution to the problems they themselves are causing. As my brain chemistry became more and more unbalanced, and I became more desperately unhappy, I responded by taking increasing numbers of drugs, chasing the high that had become the only bright thing in my life. But my reservoir of serotonin was beginning to run dry, and that high was becoming more and more elusive. On top of that, symptoms of anxiety and depression were swiftly beginning to manifest, but my emotional and mental state was so volatile that they just got lost in the noise. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I had no idea what was coming.

Finally, after a particularly heavy bender, my brittle psyche shattered and I was plunged into a nightmare of relentless panic attacks and even more relentless depression. My daily routine suddenly revolved around trying to make it through classes without people noticing the extreme waves of panic that would periodically engulf me, going home, getting into bed and watching TV in a vain attempt to distract myself from the thoughts screaming in my head. I tried to use drugs a few more times but they triggered such bad panic attacks that I ended up in A&E.

The worst part was not knowing if I was ever going to be normal again. I knew that it was damage from drugs that had done this to me, and I didn’t know if it was reversible. I was absolutely terrified. I was having multiple panic attacks, every single day, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what happiness felt like, let alone remember it. This became my reality, and it was more brutal than I can even begin to explain. It was also, without a doubt, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

About three months after that fateful night I realised that I was getting worse. I had been clinging on to the hope that this was just a really, really bad comedown, and I would eventually return to normal. But that hope had faded. I’d had comedowns that had lasted over a week before, but this was different. I could barely string a sentence together, my primary emotion was sadness so intense that I constantly felt like bursting into tears, and the only thing that punctuated that sadness was bouts of extreme panic during which I was absolutely sure I was going to die. Also, it turns out that serotonin is intimately involved in the process of forming memories, meaning I now struggled to retain even basic information.

I made an appointment with a doctor, with the intention of getting a prescription for anti-depressants. I walked in and told him everything. He nodded along, made some notes, put me on the waiting list for CBT and then wrote me the prescription I had come in for. I don’t know what it was, but something inside me clicked. Maybe it was because messing with my brain chemistry was the precise thing that had got me into this mess, but I suddenly knew that more pills was not what I needed.

For the record, I have no issue with anti-depressants, and I know that they are often vital, lifesaving treatments. I just knew that I personally didn’t need them, not then. Despite the pain I was in, I wasn’t suicidal and I wasn’t a danger to myself. I thanked the doctor for his time, turned down the prescription and left. Once I was outside, I found a quiet place, took a deep breath and said to myself: ‘you can beat this’. I wasn’t sure if I believed it, but I knew I had to try.

From that moment on, getting better became my sole purpose in life. I began teaching myself neuroscience, and came across the principle of neuroplasticity. That gave me hope that I could repair my brain, and that the damage I had inflicted on myself was not irreversible. I began to meditate. For a long time it was excruciating, sitting still and being present with the torment in my mind. But I persevered. I started exercising. I tried to spend more time in nature. I wrote, every day. I read as many self help books as a I could. I started taking cold showers, studied nutrition and began eating as healthily as possible.

It took a long time for even the smallest effects to become noticeable. The first shift was in my depression, which changed from a constant, clawing sadness to complete and utter emptiness and lack of all emotion. This wasn’t great, but it was a welcome improvement. Then my panic attacks started to become less frequent, and when they did come I was able to ride them out without trying to call an ambulance. Little by little, I started to see signs that I was getting better; something would make me laugh, or I’d suddenly realise I was enjoying something. My generalised anxiety, which had taken the form of extreme hypochondria, was the most stubborn, and even now still sometimes rears its head for a day or two. But I’ve got it under control.

It took about a year of hard work before I began to feel somewhat ok again, and probably another two years before I got back to a point where I could honestly say that I was mostly happy. That’s a long time, and it would be so easy to see it as a wasted part of my life. But that isn’t how I see it. I feel grateful, every single day, for what I went through. Why?

A few reasons. Firstly, It turns out that the habits I adopted, out of sheer necessity, are pretty great habits for life: I still meditate every day, I exercise as much as I can, and I spend half an hour every morning writing. I eat well, and I shower cold. These habits continue to make me stronger than I ever thought I could be. Secondly, not many things seems daunting anymore. Whatever life throws at me, I know what I’ve been through, and I know that when it came down to it I fought with everything I had and came out the other side. That knowledge is potent, and it’s helped me through so many situations. Thirdly, and most importantly, I no longer see hardship as a curse. I see it as an opportunity.

The skills that I was forced to develop during that time are the very skills that now allow me to live the life I want. I have a job I love. I’m working on building my own business. I have a great relationship. And when life throws me a curveball, instead of feeling bitter or bemoaning my luck, I see it as an opportunity to grow and to become a better person. This is a mindset that I developed not because I wanted to, but because I had no other choice. And it is the mindset that I believe will be the key to my success. I was a lazy kid. I was smart enough to succeed at school without really trying, and as a result I never developed a work ethic. But I had to develop discipline and focus to turn my life around, and these days I work as hard as it takes to get what I want.

I’m not suggesting that you should seek out rock bottom in pursuit of personal growth, but I believe that the lessons I learned can be applied to every life. It isn’t easy to be grateful for pain while you are going through it, but if you can reframe hardship in your mind it can simultaneously make the pain less intense and open up a well of strength you never knew you had. Next time you find yourself having to endure pain, whether it be from a breakup, job loss, or anything else, try and think to yourself, ‘this is exactly what I need to grow’. You can even try and be grateful for it. The subtle adjustment of your mindset that results from this can make a world of difference.

I’m still far from perfect, and I know I have a long way to go before I am where I want to be. But I’m working on it, every single day, and that’s where this blog comes in. It’s going to be my way of holding myself accountable, and also sharing the lessons that I have learned, and the ones I am still learning. When I was in the darkest places, I found inspiration in the stories of others who had overcome difficulty and become the people they knew they could be. Hopefully my journey will resonate with some of you. If it does, feel free to follow this blog and let’s continue the journey together.