As many know, I was recently diagnosed with MSA. This was a shock to me and my missus and genuinely upturned my life in nearly every way. Up until a few years ago I had been reasonably fit and active, even after several major knee injuries that put an end to my aspiring football career when I was younger. But I had started to have issues with erectile disfunction, which I had never experienced before. I also began to act out my dreams; I have always had issues sleeping (which actually might be related) but I had suddenly began having violent movements during sleep that my missus obviously took note of. Unfortunately, I generally—and stubbornly—ignored the symptoms thinking they were just due to stress and would go away on their own. This was partly due to my fear of what it could be, as several members of my family have or had Parkinson’s. It was also partly because I have always struggled with severe depression and anxiety and I knew where this type of diagnosis could take me.
This delaying tactic was, of course, a big mistake. I soon began to have issues with my balance and occasionally speaking. One day, as we were visiting close friends, I fell down their stairs. That is when my missus (and these friends) forced me to go to a specialist for assessment, after having the injury to my shoulder and back from the fall treated. After several false dawns and a truly exhausting gauntlet of tests, I was finally diagnosed, with several other specialists confirming.
I cannot understate how devestating this was. We had just decided to have our first child a few months before after thinking we would never have kids, and had other plans that were now untenable. As I said before, I have suffered severe depression and anxiety for most of my life and have been on medication and in therapy to help manage it since I was a teenager. But those few weeks and months after we were told my prognosis were the darkest I have ever experienced. Our future was literally being ripped away.
I experienced days where I literally couldn’t get out of bed—not because of the MSA or any other related illness, but because my depression was so deep I couldn’t will myself to move. I spent hours thinking about whether it would be better if I ended things now rather than allowing myself to waste away. We actually had very contentious discussions about travelling to Switzerland (where my missus is from) and arranging things with one of her cousins who is a doctor that provides assisted death services.
Eventually, I began my treatment regime and working with both a physical therapist and mental health professional. Slowly, I started to come out of the worst of it. It really was slow going but I started to see some point to continue. Specifically, we decided to have our son despite this new challenge. That provided something positive to focus on and work toward, which proved to be incredibly helpful for me.
And the community I found on here helped immensely, as well. Living away from home and most of my family and friends had become challenging and Bluemoon—especially during the pandemic and the early days of living with knowledge of my condition—became a refuge and a support. Many will be aware I went off the forum for periods, most recently with a furious bang, due to personal frustrations. They were admittedly amplified by my own mental health struggles, though, they were rooted in genuine anger and what I still consider to be reasonable grievances.
But, as I was gone these last few months, I realised that the forum was too important to me to allow those frustrations to win out. There are so many amazing blues on here, that have helped me through so much over the past few decades, that I was only hurting myself by staying off. And the news of Bill passing just crystallised that realisation. Life really is too short—for all of us—to allow our dysfunctional brains to deprive us of the support and comradery we all need to get through it.
To be clear, I still have difficult days, where things seem pretty grim and I am not sure if I am doing the right thing. I sometimes think about the fact my son will likely not have a father for the vast majority of his life and whether I have been selfish in having him (that’s not helped by all of the completely unrelated issues present in the world like quickening climate change, conflicts, and economic issues).
But—with the help of my missus, my friends, many on here, medication, and my therapists—I have mostly come to terms with what has happened and what is happening, and have arrived at the conclusion that the world is a much better place with my son (and me, such as I am) in it. He really is an amazing little lad. He is thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and curious (he gets these qualities mostly from his mum). And he seems to love City! We could not have asked for a better kid and I am incredibly happy that we had him and exceedingly grateful for the joy and balance he brings to my life. With any luck he’ll only remember the strong feeling of love and adoration he has from me and not the other difficult bits.
At any rate, I share my experience as a way of saying I have dealt with mental health challenges, I am still dealing with them, and I am here to support others as they navigate their mental health challenges, if that would be helpful.
We are all in this together.
