Paul’s Story
Paul started Men’s Monthly Club in 2020. Below is the catalyst that lead to our first event, in his own words.
The Darkside
I have been living with mental health issues for many years. I split up with my wife after 13 years of marriage and to be honest, that was my fault, but that's another part of my story.
My marriage ended so I decided to come home and move back to Bedford to be close to my family. I moved into a property and it was a nice place. The first few weeks I thought, “This is great,” but really, it wasn’t. This is where my life began to spiral in to darkness.
I started to realise what I did. The thoughts in my mind became confusing and very deep. This is where my depression hit me hard and I realised how bad my mental health was. This brought on a dark depression, and serious self-doubt. My head became a washing machine, full of all these thoughts I couldn't understand. I became isolated, and I couldn't handle the real world. I didn't leave my house for days. I got so deep in my thoughts that I refused to see my children. When I did leave the house and bump in to people, I played the man and acted like nothing was wrong.
At this point I knew I need help and I was desperate. I looked up groups and found places to go. I found the number for the Crisis Team. To be honest, I made a call but didn't follow through - what a mistake that turned out to be. As a man, I told myself I was weak, and a real man can sort himself out. After a while, I was still having these insane thoughts that I hated so I decided to self-medicate. To start, this was great! My mind was clear for a few hours… but the next day, the thoughts would come back. I continued day after day, but what I didn't realise was I was getting deeper and deeper into The Darkside. This was making me feel worse. I was so deep in my own thoughts that I was man and I don't suffer from depression. At this point, my thoughts turned into, “I don't want to be here any more.” I couldn’t take any more of the pain my emotions were causing me.
I went to bed after three days of not sleeping. I fell asleep at 8pm on a Sunday night. I woke up at 5.30pm the following Monday evening.
I got out of bed, walked into the living room, and had a stroke.
The Devil in My Mind
My alarm sounds. It's 4am - time to go to work. I have to get up, but the Devil was telling me, “Ignore it, stay in bed, as I am going to torture you today.” Nope, I get up, have my breakfast, jump in my van, and head to work.
The Devil wasn't wrong. BANG! It starts, not even 5am, and I have 14 hours of this. I can't do this, I am wanting to turn my van around, but I have to earn a wage. I have three kids and a wife at home. The Devil says, “Yeah Paul, why are you going to work? You’re only going to hide from your kids and your wife.” My emotions are running high. I burst into tears. I can't do any more. The Devil laughs at me. “Paul, you’re a man! You’re weak! You’re suffering, and you can’t admit it!” As I continued to my first drop in London to meet the first customer of the day, the Devil starts.
“Go on Paul, pretend you’re okay and not suffering! Put that brave face on, put that smile on your face!”
The day goes on, customer after customer, the Devil teasing me constantly.
Towards the end of the day, I am mentally exhausted. The Devil was right - he tortured me every single minute. On my way home after 13 hours, I physically feel fine but my head is all over the place. Leaving London, I could actually make it home to spend time with my children as I have been working late for the last few days and want to see my family. Then, BANG! It’s the Devil again.
“Why do you want to go home early to see your kids when you’re suffering? Do you want them to see you being weak?”
The Devil wins again.
I pull over my van and sit and cry for a while, telling myself I am weak. Why am I crying? Men don't cry! I eventually get home for 10.30pm as I know the kids are in bed, and my wife will be getting ready to sleep, too. I get in the spare bed and cry myself to sleep.
This was in my mind, a daily process I had for many years.
I know full-well that there are many men going through the same mental process every day. Please men, don’t fear the Devil. Take it from me – you can defeat it. I did.
These Are Her Words
My head feels like scrambled eggs.
It's so hard to be mad at him for self-medicating. He gets up and goes to work early every day. He's a great father and aside from the self-medicating, a great husband in his heart. Everyone except me doesn't know the demons lurk inside his mind. I've seen the worst of them, the worst of them all, but how can I be mad at him when I know he's suffering with his mental health? No matter how hard I try and help him, he refuses to accept who he his.
I know he hurts every day and self-medicates to deal with his highs and lows. How can I be mad at him for wanting to feel normal and wanting the pain to go away? How can I be mad that he wants a good night’s sleep and lay-in, and be angry that he won't get up and spend time with us? We don't make him be with us normally...
I hate myself for being mad at him. I feel selfish. I love him, I just want him to get help instead of self-medicating. Is this horrible of me? I don't know what to do any more. I am worried - how do I make this change? We tread on eggshells to make him feel okay, but inside I am hurting and so are the boys.