My Own Occupational Therapy

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I’m not out of the woods from this current bout of depression. My new medication is only just beginning and it’s early days, though one of its side effects didn’t take long to kick in. Too much information I know, but dreadful constipation isn’t a great way to begin a new medication regimen. Now I know at first hand what it’s like to feel bloated!

My mood is steady though. I continue to experience horrifying periods of deep and seemingly unmanageable self-loathing, with accompanying thoughts of ending my life as a result of this. However, in these moments, I’m discovering I’m drawing more and more on the resilience I acquired during my kayaking journey. This is due in no small part to the fact I’ve been delivering public presentations about this journey to various audiences around Scotland.

The Opening Slide For My Presentations

These events have been well attended and despite some stage nerves each time, I enjoy myself immensely. I also enjoy the realisation folks are interested in what I have to share, how I tell my story and the messages I impart. It’s an affirming experience for me. It’s also hugely useful for me when recounting the powerful transformational learning I gained from my journey, I hear these words for myself too. This is why I’m more readily able to tap into my inner resilience when I experiencing a deep low, to keep me moving forward.

Saying this, I’ve yet to find my way back into a sustained process of writing the book about the journey. My confidence with this is at an extremely low ebb and when I do open up the files containing my writing so far, all I see is a word salad of complete and utter tosh! Despite this, I’m increasingly aware of a growing desire to get back into solidly writing again. Again, my recent public presentations have helped prove I have a good story to tell and I’m keen to get this written. I have nearly a month of house sitting for friends on the Isle of Skye coming up soon, so it’s my goal to use this time to complete the bulk of the book.

It was attending the occupational therapy sessions during my hospital admission in 2019, after my suicide attempt, which awoke my inner creativity. This lead to me making jewellery pieces and art from the fruits of my beach combing here on the Isle of Mull. Since returning from my long kayak journey, it’s taken months for me to reconnect with my inner creativeness. Thankfully, I’m back in my shed again and I’m loving it! All of a sudden I’m once more excited with the possibilities before me and learning new skills. I may not produce high class pieces, but each is created with passion. I’ve returned to my shed with a clear idea of what I want to create, what I want to learn and where I want to enhance my skills.

Available in my Online Store

This is a major step forward for me. My tenacity, an innate personal quality I only recently understood I possessed, prevented me from sinking into the doldrums of wallowing in self-pity and instead inspired me to return to my shed and “give it a go”. Once at my work bench, I quickly realised the space in my shed and the creativity it unleashes within me, is akin to kayaking on the sea. It’s rhythmic, mindful, absorbing and hugely rewarding. My uneasy mind is stilled and whatever self-hatred I’m experiencing, is diminished.

It has occurred to me, I cannot carry my self-directed anger or hate for more than mere seconds when I’m out in my kayak or making art in my shed. This is why occupational therapy worked so well for me during my many hospital admissions.

I’m on my road to recovery and it’s good to once more experience the familiar bursting buds of hope within me. I notice though, I continue to shy away from social media, believing I’m a fraudulent presence. Indeed, if there is a negative within the public presentations I have been giving, it is the strong sense I have no right to be speaking as I do about positivity. It’s nigh on impossible for me to absorb the generous feedback I receive without my internal dialogue batting it away.

I have a few more presentations coming up. One, tomorrow night in Portobello and the next one on Skye in April. I know every time I give a talk, this inner dialogue of mine will be slowly vanquished.

So folks, that is the current state of play for Nick Life Afloat. Never a dull moment!

Thank you as always for your love and warm support.

Emerging Into The Light

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Finally! I have some happy news to share in a blog post. A few days ago, seemingly out of the blue, I felt a sudden shift in my mood, where almost bodily and sensationally, I experienced a feeling of self-goodwill and positivity. I hadn’t experienced either of these, even in the slightest way, throughout this lengthy depressive episode. As with understanding the triggers for my depression, it’s useful to understand the triggers for a recovery process out of it too. To be honest, I can’t be sure if I can pinpoint specific moments or events which sparked a positive change in my self-perception, but I’m aware of various influencing factors. Before I outline the most notable of these, I want to describe what it feels like for me, right now at the point I’m aware I’ve successfully turned the corner with this particularly bad episode of depression.

I feel punch drunk, or maybe more descriptively, heavily hungover (without the boaking). I’m exhausted but relieved to have come through unscathed. I’m relieved too I did not end up in hospital this time, despite almost continually feeling overwhelmingly suicidal. There is a sense of embarrassment where, like after a riotous drunken party, I remember I was the only one who streaked naked down the high street (I apologise if this’s now an image you cannot shake). When I read back through my earlier blog posts and look at some of my social media contributions, I have this feeling of vulnerability, like I have shared too much - too openly. I don’t feel any shame and it’s important for me to state that, but there is embarrassment. I don’t like the suspicion I have which is; I was only sharing my recent experiences to garner sympathy and possibly more darkly, to gain notoriety. It’s important for me to believe I was sharing so openly as a means of accessing the first rungs of the ladder for my own recovery by outlining to myself more than anyone else, what was happening for me. It’s also important for me when as a spin off to this, I hear what I have written has been helpful to others, either struggling with depression too, or finding some understanding of what may be occurring for a loved one or friend. Knowing from the comments and messages I have received from so many people, what I have shared has been important and informative, is hugely rewarding for me and this leads me to my first important depression beating influencing factor .

Despite many times and for many days sometimes constantly feeling bereft of any hope, there was within me the desire to fight my way through and survive. There were many times when I denied this reality to myself and to others, but it is there within me, and by writing and sharing as I did, I was somehow reminding myself my depression is sadly a permanent part of me and I must have a respectful relationship with it. Not experience it as definitive outside factor where I believe I’m forced towards the inevitability of choosing to end my life. The dreadful beliefs I experience in the midst of my depressive distress; I’m a worthless person, a hateful individual, a fraud, a terrible husband, a useless son, a feckless father, a horrible friend, and so much more, are not the reality. It’s my illness which is leading me to think and believe all of the above. Sharing as I did and will continue to do, challenged the destructive depressive myth I do not deserve to live, or too, I’m exhausted with fighting the illness, fighting the annihilating thinking and simply fighting incapacitating bouts of anxiety and I want out. As I write this (see, it does help me to share), I recognise a growing sense of self-pride - I have successfully reached the other side and I have managed this without serious harm.

All of these positive influencing factors merge with each other and do not stand alone. Despite recognising my enduring sense of self-preservation, I could not have made it through totally on my own. I owe a huge amount of recognition and appreciation to the unconditional love I receive from Karen, my wife. She is a tower of strength in my life and she burdens herself with me for many long periods when I need support the most. Never judgemental, or openly frustrated and angry, or unhelpfully rescuing, she allows me to find my own path through the morass of the depressive episode, always there to offer me guidance when I ask for it and never unsolicited. Her simple acts of love expressed through warm words of affection and all embracing hugs and kisses are particularly powerful for me. There is simplicity in our animal humanness where warm touch and words of devotion carry so much potency.

The same is true for the incredible professional support I received over the last eight weeks. It is the individual humanity of the various NHS Scotland professionals I interacted with which offered me the greatest assistance when I required it most. I always felt heard and understood and what is hugely important, I realised I was responsible for my own recovery. It was not up to any of them to perform this task for me. Knowing that at the point of crisis, I had the relatively easy ability to turn for their support, enabled me to totally trust my local Community Mental Health Service. Quite simply, if at any time I felt overwhelmed with keeping myself safe (not completing my suicide), all I had to do was present myself (by phone or personally) at our local hospital or GP surgery and steps would be taken to intervene in my crisis. I can’t overstate how important this was for me. Even in those moments when I was sure I was ready to leave the house and enact my carefully devised plan for my death, I held onto the safety net which had been so effectively place within my reach by my CPN. I have a crisis plan which is typed up and I have pinned on my notice board in my creative shed. This has been an incredibly simple but powerful preventer and served many times to slow my thinking down and aid me in making a rational choice.

It goes without saying, allied to the humanity I experienced professionally, I experienced this socially too. I know how so many people; family, friends, friends I have yet to meet and strangers were rooting for me. There is incredible power in our humanness and our (your) capacity for unconditional expressions of love, kindness and support. In those darkest moments when I struggled to access any healthy rationality, I felt held by the wide and diverse community which has built up around me and my persona as ‘LifeAfloat’. Many times thinking of this community (you), helped me ground myself in the reality I am regarded and liked.

I have a good friend who has recently embarked on her personal journey with cancer and like me with my depression, she is choosing to be open about this with the wider world. Her contributions have been powerfully inspirational for me, particularly when she eloquently writes about the importance and pleasure she finds in living her life to the fullest each and every day. Reading her words whenever she shared them, served as a challenge to me - how could I be considering to end my life when she was ardently striving to survive hers in the fullest way she could? As I worked away at my jewellery making, I found myself pondering this a lot.

This leads me on to how remaining steadfast with my creativity was also an important factor in keeping me out of hospital or worse. I had a sense of purpose every day and more than this, I had a sense of accomplishment too. Whenever I’ve been in hospital because of my depression, it has been Occupational Health which so often unlocked within me, my capacity for self-recovery. By allowing my inner creativity to flourish and not be denuded in any way by my depression or depressive thinking, I have managed to hold onto my day to day existence and lose myself without self-rancour in creative reverie. My shed, my dedicated creative space, became a haven of protective solace for me, and in the depths of my anguish, I often found myself aching to lose myself within it. Where before in previous severe depressive episodes, I dreaded the coming day, I now found myself looking forward to unbolting the wooden door and stepping inside what has become a familiar and safe space for me. This is not to say that there were not many times where I lacked creative inspiration or even found pleasure in what I was doing or indeed ruminated on self-critical thoughts. Despite those negative experiences, allowing myself to be creative was akin to a powerful anti-depressant medication. It was slow to take hold, but certainly worked wonders over time.

This leads me onto medication. I’m not certain about this because despite the regime I am on, I found myself in another depression. Needless to say, I kept with what I had been prescribed and benefitted from an extra prescription of Diazepam to help me cope with crippling anxiety.

A new friend of mine and her partner have just completed a paddle board and kayaking expedition respectively around the mainland coastline of Scotland. I was fortunate to meet them early in their adventure and even more lucky to spend a day on the sea with them as they rounded Ardnamurchan. Remaining in touch with her progress and her openness (there it is again - that willingness to share) about her moments of joy as well as her moments of challenge, helped me reconnect with my innate desire for adventure and an understanding of what she was facing. I was reminded of how important my immersion in wild oceanic nature is for me, and how natural physical challenges can lead to many powerful insights and new awareness. The fact that she persisted with her challenge was an inspiration for me to persist with mine.

I think all these I’ve listed above, are the main influencing factors which led to a transformative change in direction in this current bout of depression. There are others which are too personal for even me to share and some which really don’t require writing about.

Finally, I want to acknowledge a residual sadness within me, despite the positive news I’ve been sharing and it is this - I’m sad at having ‘lost’ precious weeks of the wonderful summer we’ve been experiencing. Despite knowing how important nature immersion is for me, my illness overwhelmed my motivation to get out in my kayak or even take the dog for a walk. To be blunt too, I’m not certain I felt safe enough to take myself out to sea on my own. However, there is much of the summer left and I have some wonderful plans in my head with what I can do.

Thank you again for reading my writing and giving me your time. I truly appreciate the consideration shown for me and what I’m choosing to share. As ever too, thank you for the unconditional support I receive daily from so many of you, most of whom I’m yet to meet and sadly, may never enjoy that opportunity.

It is wonderful to emerge into the light again and to once more engage with the world.

An Update on the Previous Update

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How I would love to write life has made a turn for the better and I can feel this depression beginning to ease. Sadly this is not the case and I am firmly in the grip of this tawdry malaise. However, I shall begin this blog entry with the positives because these are far more important than the negatives.

I am being incredibly cared for by my local Community Mental Health Team (CMHT), especially my Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN). In the past when I have reached the depths of depressive despair as I have, I have ended up in hospital. This time round I have requested not to be admitted and to remain at home. I have been heard and acknowledged which is incredibly important for me. Going back into hospital, while being a place of complete safety for me, would this time feel to me to be an utter failure on my part and most certainly be a catalyst in me acting irrationally to prevent admission. I’m determined to fight this depression on my terms and while this may be risky, I do feel empowered to make meaningfully healthy choices. For example, I decided on two occasions not to meet with good friends who were visiting the Isle of Mull and who I hadn’t seen for ages because I simply wasn’t well enough. Being the good friends they are, they understood. Despite inevitably feeling shitty for ‘letting them down’, I realised I had made healthy choices.

The form the wonderful support I’m receiving from the CMHT and my CPN is regular telephone and Zoom contact, checking in with me and being a non-judgemental ear for my depressive unloading. I am fortunate to have a really good relationship with my CPN and I trust her implicitly, so much so, I speak candidly about my strong suicidal ideations and the plan I have in place to see them through. Simply put, being able to do this is for me, one of the reasons why I ultimately choose not to follow my plan through. By speaking of my darkest and most dreadful desires with her, I find myself lancing this infected wound so to speak and releasing the building pressure. Nevertheless, she is concerned for my safety and arranged further contact from the health services while she was off duty, this being in the form of a phone call from our local GP and over the last weekend, phone calls from the Out of Hours mental Health Team. Knowing I was receiving this support and had these calls lined up helped me make an easy decision not to act on my suicidal ideation. In a way, I felt honour bound to meet the agreement that I would be available to speak with them. Additionally I deeply appreciated this level of professional care and did not want to reject it by acting out. Throughout my mental health journey I have strongly believed in meeting my care full on, and while maybe not always being totally compliant, certainly being respectful of and grateful for the care being offered.

It has been my experience that our NHS professionals have our interests at heart and work their utmost to ensure this is upheld, despite the many constraints they face.

So, I’m grateful for the professional mental health care I am receiving. Hand in hand with this of course is the unconditional love and support I receive hourly and every day from Karen, my wife. She understands me and she knows how to live with me when I am depressed like this. I appreciate how difficult I can be at times, but increasingly, the sense I am a burden on her is diminishing. Of course there are many times when I feel utterly miserable about being poorly motivated and listless when it comes to enjoying shared time in the outdoors be this going for walks and possibly camping nights away. However, having Karen’s unconditional, no strings attached, support helps me live openly with my depression rather than bury it and hide it away. As with my CPN, I am able to speak with Karen about my suicidal ideations without fear of being judged or ‘shut down’. Simply being able to state where I am with this thinking, by expressing it out loud, is enough for me to make a decision not to act on my desires or the plan I have in place. I cannot stress enough how important Karen’s love and understanding is for me.

Then there is the unconditional support I receive from my wide Social Media diaspora in the form of private messages letting me know I’m in their thoughts, to more public utterances of concern and good wishes for my welfare. Despite having not been active on my main Social Media outlets, I do not feel forgotten and therefore the pressure to contribute. It is good for me to know that people understand I’m taking care of myself and I will return to my online visibility when I am stronger.

My shed has possibly been one of my greatest saviours. In here, with the accoutrements of creativity around my, I lose myself in hours of absorbing making and creating. Just as I found Occupational Health activity incredibly helpful for me in hospital, I find my shed has become my place of safety. It is a pace of purpose and intent and this is vital for me right now. It is in my shed where I make wearable art to sell and subsequently receive hugely important recognition for my creativity. During this period of my depression I have been reluctant to market myself but despite this I still make sales and this is helpfully rewarding for me. I feel I have purpose and I’m contributing.

Finally, I dug a pond in our garden and it is already filled with water, planted with plants and artistically fringed with rocks. The birds like to drink from it and it’s already an oasis of calm for me to sit beside.

Having written about the positives, I now find I’m unable to write about the negatives. I’ll rephrase this - I do not want to write about the negatives, suffice to say I am so very tired, exhausted in fact, fighting with what seems all my might to remain in this world. I long so much for the peace I experienced when I was in the sea after leaping from the ferry in 2019. Expending my energy on fighting my depressing seems to me to be such a sad waste because I have none left to enjoy what I want to enjoy, this being my kayaking, wilderness immersion and all the joys the summer months have to offer. Having just written this, I realise the possibility of reversing this energy flow from sustaining my depression to sustaining my recovery from it. If only this were so easy. I can see the possibility for this but right now, it’s frustratingly beyond my grasp.

Writing like this is hugely helpful for me and I’m grateful to those of you who read my ramblings. As I type these words now, I sense a positive shift within me and recognise the glimmers of change ahead. I know this tide of depression will turn and I will once more be moving ahead with the flow of life. My head tells me this truth constantly but my depression is a wily opponent and manages to sow the seeds of doubt and manipulates my frailty with so very powerful beliefs of my inadequacy and a strong sense of self-loathing. I’m longing for the strength to begin to turn these beliefs around. Until then, I trust in all the positives I have outlined here in this blog entry and hold close to me heart the words Karen so often tells me - “I think you’re amazing for your strength”

Thank you to all of you from the bottom of my heart,

State of Play

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I’m staring down the rabbit hole of my depression and I’m scared shitless. I don’t mind admitting this. I have been in touch with my Community Mental Health Nurse and I have in place the support I need to keep me safe. Within an hour of me texting her this week, she phoned me back and we have been in regular contact since. I cannot express anymore than I have before, how much I appreciate the professional support I receive from our NHS mental health team. However, no matter how caring the folks are, at the end of the day. my keeping well is down to me. This rabbit hole is a familiar one and this time it’s a particularly dark one. I have an urge to express myself and write about what I’m experiencing. I have a sense this may help me work my way back to the bright, colourful sunlight of the summer. Thank you for taking the time to read this and to hear me out.

The warning signs were there a few weeks back. I noticed changes in my thinking and how I perceived myself and how generally my mood was slowly beginning to diminish - I was losing my spark. The contentment I had been enjoying in my life was being eroded to be replaced with increasing thoughts of self-criticism and self-dislike. “It’s a blip” I told myself. “I can expect my mood to dip from time to time.” So I decided to sit things out and wait for the beginnings of this deepening gloom to shift. After all it was early summer, the months of May and June which are my absolute favourite months of any year. It is when the fecundity of Nature and life, which abounds during these weeks inspires in me a sense of joy. Indeed, there was a long period when all my stars were in alignment. I was engaging in what I love most in life, immersing myself in wild nature and in turn I was rewarded with some truly incredible experiences which reinforced my hard won conviction that life was worth being around for - to be lived at its fullest! There was entering Fingal’s Cave in my kayak on a perfectly calm day. Sitting alone with the early summer Puffin arrivals on the island of Lunga, enjoying my human solitude and my companionship with the wild life around me. Then there were the three days of exploring the Small Isles in my kayak when I was privileged to encounter a friendly and exuberant pod of dolphins just below Ardnamurchan Lighthouse, the film footage of which went viral and propelled me into a short period of recognition from around the world. It seemed then that I was reaping the rewards of steadily speaking of my connection to Nature and how this helps my mental health. I met the dolphins again about a month later and again their obvious enjoyment in swimming alongside me in my kayak captivated nearly 200 000 people on Twitter.

In these early weeks of the summer months my life was as joyful and unencumbered with depressive thinking and feeling as I ever remember it being. I truly believed recovery from my depression was within my grasp.

Now, in the space of a few weeks this bonhomie I had been enjoying with myself has evaporated to be replaced with a self-loathing so fierce, it has taken even me aback. To explain this self-loathing a little. It’s literally looking in the bathroom mirror and hating my reflected image. Not how I look (though I do see myself as a complete shaggy disaster), but the face of a man who I dislike immensely. I’m a person who rarely takes against people, in general preferring to see the good in most, but in those rare moments when I do, my dislike is fierce and uncompromising. Right now, I am the person I most hate in the world.

No matter what positive messages I receive from those who love me and who are my friends, I only hear what I believe is unsaid - criticism of who I truly am. The man in the mirror who I hate is a fraud and this man is me. I talk of Nature being healing and yet I do not allow this to be true for myself. I’m good at talking the talk and because of this I hate the sound of my own voice. So much so I choose to speak as little as possible to prevent me hearing the words uttered from my mouth. Most of all though, I hate who I am and who I have been. I look back and see a swathe of errors of judgement, mistakes, wrongs committed on others, hurt, pain, slights, deceptive inauthenticity and general misdeeds. A recent visit to my family down in England served to reinforce many of these thoughts and beliefs, after all, I consider myself to be a total embarrassment to my family who deserved (and continue to deserve) so much more from me.

I think by now I am making my point. I dislike myself intensely.

The odd thing with all this is that there is in within me the knowledge that all the self-hatred I’m experiencing right now is untrue. It is my depression which is causing me to think like this and as I so often tell myself, this period of intense discomfort will pass. I will come through to the light again and begin to realise the good within me and my capacity to positively touch the lives of those around me. Somehow though there is a corruption of my positive synapsis’ and instead any thoughts of hope are diverted and quashed. This is where I wish I could describe this in greater clarity. There is within me a battle for supremacy, my depression over my authentic healthy self. It is not that I see myself as a ‘poor victim’ and need saving by anyone who wants to save me. Far from it, I seek the support I need and accept this is an internal battle I must fight myself. However, this can be exhausting - literally so. It takes considerable effort to remain coherent to the world around me while at the same time internally fighting feelings of alarm, fear, self-hatred and desperation. Quite literally, I ache for the time to go to bed when I can take my dose of Zopiclone and ease myself towards the relative haven of unconscious sleep. Only this respite is fleeting because I normally wake again in the early hours to a rush of disturbing thoughts.

When I started this post, I said I was scared. I am frightened of being really ill again. I do not want to be so ill I end up in hospital again and yet, I crave the release suicide would give me. I am thinking of my suicide and consider seriously the benefits my death would bring for me and those who I affect through my tumultuous way of living. I wrote a blog post in 2018 about my relationship with suicidal ideation which I think expresses with some clarity what I face with this - here. It is sufficient to say I’m fearful where my thinking about suicide is leading me at the moment. Basically, I’m so fucking tired of fighting this illness, I ache for the release my suicide will give me. Death will be so absolutely final, and while this is the reality, it is an incredibly attractive one.

However! And yes there is a however. There is within me a notion of self-preservation which is why I reached out to my CPN and asked for her support. I’m prepared to trust myself to the professional help available to me. Additionally, as much as it may seem so through what I have written so far, I have not given up and I continue to function, even to the point of continuing to make jewellery, one thing I find gives me a sense of purpose and a level of internal peace. Admittedly, I have Transglobal Underground playing loudly on repeat through my headphones to distract me from my thinking, but each day at 5pm I close my work-shed with some sense of accomplishment.

This then is the chink of hope, even if at the moment I cannot see hope or even feel it. After all my desire to do the things I normally enjoy such as walking and kayaking have completely disappeared, replaced with a self-incriminatory lethargy. One thing I know is to work within these chinks as they appear, to appreciate them and to accept every opportunity towards recovery they offer. Right now, creating wearable art is the one thing which is offering me positivity in the midst of the descending blackness within me. I notice as I write these words, there is a recognition that not all is bleak, and despite what I might believe to be true, I am not totally useless. Finding my way into making a small living from my creativity is proving to be more than I could have ever hoped for.

This Week’s Production

So, what now? I am here and I’m not ready to give in. I hate where I am right now (within myself that is) and I am desperate for respite from this. At the moment I am safe and I make assurances to remain safe. I have more than enough cognitive resonance to understand what I am living through at the moment is pretty tough but this purely is due to my depression and will ease over time. My fear of sinking further into my depression is real and exists and this leads me into the tangled web of it all. It’s like untangling a hopeless knot of string - there just seems to be no solution or end to it all.

Please don’t be overly concerned for me. The fact I have written this and shared it so openly is an indication I am positively working to overcome this particular bout of severe low mood. Thank you for reading what I have written and please know I truly appreciate all the generously warm comments I receive here and on my various Social Media platforms.

I sincerely hope what I share is of interest and help to many.

Thank you.

A Dose Of Road Rage Exposes My Fault Lines

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After eleven hours on the road, albeit a smooth enough 685km (428m) journey from the lovely Herefordshire market town of Ross-on-Wye, I indicated left and turned off the busy A82 into the short lane which led down to the Corran Ferry slipway. The queue of traffic already waiting for the short ferry crossing was almost to the top of the road and I saw I would have to pull in tightly to the rear of the car in front of me to allow other vehicles following me to join the queue. I noticed I should really make my way into the three overspill queue lanes but my access to these was blocked by the car in front, I could reach them without mounting the rough grass verge. Since the ferry had just arrived and was discharging its load, I surmised the queue would soon move forward as our vehicles were subsequently loaded.

The first vehicles off the small ferry were two huge yellow Highland Council road works vehicles, the front one of these obviously containing molten tar because of the signs to be aware of hot liquid the other loaded with grit. These two trucks pulled up to the junction with the A82 and looking in my mirrors I could see a large queue of traffic had formed because of the ferry queue spilling onto the main trunk road. This is the moment I realised it was up to me to move into the overspill queue lanes to ease this pressure but couldn’t do so without mounting the verge. Suddenly feeling indecisive I faltered and hoped the queue ahead of me would soon begin to move as cars were loaded onto the ferry. Looking in my wing mirror again I saw the driver of the first Highland Council climb out of his cab and walk with purpose towards our car. His face was thunderous and I knew with a sickening swoop in my stomach he was about to confront me.

In a matter of seconds he was on our car, thumping furiously on the roof and slapping my driver’s window, all the while screaming at me to “Move my fucking car into the overspill lane! - You fucking cunt of an idiot!” His rage was uncontrolled and for a brief second I wondered if he were about to wrench my driver’s door open and haul me out of my seat. He didn’t of course but he did move round to the bonnet of our car, continuing to thump on the bodywork and scream abuse at me.

Now, I am no wall flower and I have a temper too. In these split seconds my rage surged with indignation and with our eyes fiercely locking I flashed two fingers at him and shouted back “Fuck off you wanker!” No sooner I had expostulated these unhelpful words, Karen calmly suggested I calm myself and do as he was saying. It all happened so fast. I managed to pull our car up onto the verge and drive into the overspill lane but no other cars followed me so I stopped. As soon as I did this, this bulk of a man bore bore on our car again, his bunched fists readying themselves for more than thumping our body work. I prepared myself to get out of the car and face him, such was my anger too. I knew I wouldn’t have stood a chance in a physical confrontation but I’m not fearful of such things.

Suddenly the traffic queue began to move off smoothly and with a look of surprise (and maybe it was disappointment) the raging Highland Council roads operative turned away as I re-joined the queue. The ragefully angry situation was over and traffic was running again.

We were silent in the car, Karen thoughtfully allowing me to fume in silence as I brought myself down to a relative sense of calm. A few minutes later we spoke and both agreed that the man had been unpleasant and needn’t have been so aggressive in pointing out to us that it was our fault there was a queue of traffic forming. As is my wont, I mull experiences like these over and wonder what I could have done differently. It was obvious I should have not dithered when I saw the need for us to drive into the overspill queue lane and I ought to have forced my way through. Doing so would have set the precedent and the traffic stopping queue would not have formed and the Highland Council employee would not have become enraged, I berated myself for my indecision and concluded I had been at fault and suitably chastised myself.

The journey home continued without incident and after just missing the the ferry from Lochaline to Fishnish on Mull, we were home in Tobermory an hour later than planned. The whole journey had taken twelve hours and I was bushed.

Fast forward a day or so after this event and I find myself in an unhappy state. I’m indecisive and my thinking is overly self-critical. I have little goodwill to show myself and I ferociously berate any silly mistake I make. My general mood is low and I find myself cogitating over recent mistakes and a general sense I am simply not good enough. This self-belief of being a useless individual is pretty much a constant in my life. Recently through wonderfully successful therapeutic support I have come to understand more about this belief and its falsehoods but it is deeply ingrained and it doesn’t take much for it to dominate my sense of being.

We had spent the previous week with my parents which was a lovely family event. It was wonderful for us to spend time together after the deprivations of shared contact for over 18 months due to the pandemic and we were royally hosted as is my parents’ wont. I gave up thinking of my waistline and acceded to the offers of platefuls of good food and copious glasses of beer and whisky. The problem with me though, is I find it very difficult to see myself as being someone of worth and most certainly I believe myself to be an inadequate son who has let the family down. I won’t list my litany of perceived failures here, suffice to say, I feel dreadful much of the time when I think of the opportunities for different pathways I let slip by me and deep regret with some of the choices I instead made. I feel deep shame a lot of the time.

Now, you mustn’t imagine I live my life outwardly morose, always opining my sad lot in life. Quite the opposite. These self-critical views I hold on myself are largely masked and I successfully present myself as the cheeky chappie, devil may care, adventurous son, brother, uncle and dad that my family often see me as. Admittedly during this last week, this veneer has been fragilely thin and a few times I let my mask slip and presented myself as an easily injured individual, but on the whole, I think I kept my fragility intact and certainly out of sight.

Now I am home, I find myself fighting off a deepening bout of gloominess where I begin to hate myself and all that I do. I sense depression beginning to loom and I notice I’m thinking of suicide again. I’m certainly not at the level where I fear for my safety, but I realise my thinking is drifting in this direction. I have strategies to combat this deepening low and I have a ‘safe plan’ which I willingly refer to when I find my mood noticeably dipping. Generally a good dose of ‘Nature Cure’ is all that is required to set me back on track again. A few nights away camping and exploring with my kayak works wonders. However, I’m at a point where I find it difficult to allow myself the ‘luxury’ of getting away in my kayak. You see, I’ve been away for a week, I’ve not created any jewellery and I’ve not made any sales. I have to work and work hard! After all, I can see I’m not very good at what I do and I need to get better through hard work and determination. Do you see how easy it is for me to criticise myself?

Writing this has helped me. In doing so I have faced many of the negative beliefs I hold about myself and understand these to be manifestations of both my depression and my unfair self-criticalness. However, I find myself going back to one moment in time and angrily telling myself - “You should have pulled into the overspill lane and then none of these feelings of crapness would be happening!”

“It’s your fault!”

“You are a useless individual!”

So my story continues. My recovery from my depression is not straightforward, no matter how ebulliently I may present myself. I’m in a constant flow of self-query and self-awareness. The general direction is one of happy positivity and as I write those words, I know this to be true. It’s just sometimes my negative self becomes dominant enough to remind me of where I have come from and where I might end up again if I do not take care of myself.

I am determined this will not happen.

A Word Of Caution - For Myself

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All this week, I have been Tweeting and posting on Facebook short videos where I describe how immersing myself in Nature is good for my recovery from severe depression. There is no doubt being active in the outdoors, surrounding myself with the grandeur and beauty the Isle of Mull has to offer, is beneficial for me. I am most comfortable with myself when I am out in the wilds. I am a confident and accomplished outdoors person being fortunate to have accrued an incredible amount of wisdom and knowledge through my many years working and adventuring in the wilds. Because of this, my interactions with wild spaces and Nature tend to err on the more adventurous and possibly physically demanding. It’s through a combination of subliminal connection to nature and facing challenge that I gain the most from these experiences for myself. However, as beneficial as this usually is, it’s not always the most healthy or safe approach for me to pursue.

There are time when Nature may not be the panacea for my depression and I need to take care. This has nothing to do with facing the actual risks associated with adventurous outdoor activity, though of course these are a factor to be considered. It is more about me keeping myself safe from myself.

The extreme safety consideration for me is my level of ideation for completing my suicide. I wrote about this a long while ago and you can read about this - here. It makes complete sense that I do not embark on a solo sea kayaking trip if I’m at the depths of a depressive episode when I have strong desires for my suicide. This is a safety consideration akin to asking some one to abseil without a rope. I wouldn’t do it. Despite my strong desire for death during these difficult times in my depression, there is enough of a sense of preservation within me to know that kayaking on my own would possibly be a bad idea. The safety factor which I attend to most when making these decisions, is asking myself - “How impulsive do I think I am at the moment?” If I’m confident I’m in control of my impulsivity, then I might consider it safe for me to maybe kayak on my own around Tobermory Bay, having given Karen clear details about my plans and the time I expect to be ashore again. The benefits of such a sojourn in my kayak would undoubtedly outweigh the risks in that particular kind of scenario. If though I am thinking of a longer journey with a night or two away, then even though I might feel in control of my impulsivity, I would decide against embarking on such a journey because I would not know how I would cope with any stressors on the way, or how I would cope with my solitude.

To be honest, when I’m at the depths of my depression, I usually lack the motivation to embark on a lengthy kayak trip even if the weather and sea conditions were perfect.

It’s in my make up to expect a lot of myself, to be strong, to persevere and not give in. When I am well, this trait of mine can be an attribute, enabling me to undertake some demanding adventurous challenges - and enjoy doing so. However, when I’m not well, then having this desire to push myself hard can be counter-productive. It’s probably this fact alone which I have increasingly learned to pay attention to when making a ‘risk assessment’ about my engagement with the outdoor realm. The question I find I have to ask myself is - “What do I want to achieve?” The answer to this will be internally debated, weighing up the merits of the endeavour, opposed to the risks of possibly failing to complete the task and what these may mean for my mental health. An example of this occurred a year or so ago. I was not long out of a prolonged hospital admission and in a customary show of bravado, I stated I would kayak solo around the Isle of Mull. I plastered my intent over my social media outlets and blithely set off down the Sound of Mull, overweight from unconstrained hospital eating and dreadfully unfit. Needless to say, I managed just two days of the trip before I phone Karen and asked her to collect me and take me home.

A positive reflection of this experience is the fact I knew I needed to stop my expedition and acted on this. I took care of myself. In fact this one experience forms the bedrock of my decision making processes since then. While I may not have been at risk of completing my suicide because where I was in my recovery at that point, there was considerable to stunting or even reversing this recovery through the consequences of ‘failing’. I push myself hard with an expectation of succeeding and when this does not occur, I can be painfully self-critical. Self-criticism is one of the driving forces for my depression, so avoiding situations where there is a risk where this may occur makes good sense. In hindsight of course, I ought not have set out on an ambitious circumnavigation of Mull given I was just out of hospital. As I write this I notice I’m internally berating myself for even thinking that kayaking around Mull at that point my life would be a good idea. The result of this internal criticism is a huge sigh and exhalation and a profanity laden exhortation. Thankfully though, at the moment I’m strong enough not to allow this one negative thought, lead me into a self-destructive cycle of rumination and instead, I have moved on to think about the positive outcomes of what I am sharing here.

The point I think I’m labouring here is, there may be times when immersing myself in Nature may not be a beneficial option for me, if my expectations of my ability outweigh the realities of the same. The negative consequences of incompletion and a sense of failure would be detrimental to my fragile mental health. This may be true even for considering to paddle around our local Calve Island or not. This is a trip of just a couple of hours and of no great challenge at all. However, there are times in my depressed state when my energy levels are so low, that to undertake even this, might leave me wanting.

Currently I’m at a place in my life where I’m able to assess these situations with a strong level of self-care in place. It’s not difficult for me to judge whether an activity in the outdoors will be good for me or not. Paddling out to the Isle of Rum and back in three days is a great example of this. There was always the risk I may have stumbled with regard to coping with the strenuous nature of the endeavour, but the outcomes to my sense of self would not have been adversely negative. As it turned out this one trip, and possibly the one before it to the Treshnish Isles, have been transformative. As a result of the truly incredible experiences I enjoyed on both these journeys, my self-esteem is stronger than ever before and I’m enjoying a level of personal contentment I can’t recall feeling in many years. With both these adventures, the possible benefits exceeded the risks of incompletion or a sense of failure.

I’m well versed in personal risk-assessment when it comes to my interaction with the natural and wild realms. It’s a dynamic process for me, multidimensional and sometime complex. The bottom line is my safety of course, but what I may positively gain for myself through the endeavour is of equal consideration.

If there is any wisdom I have gleaned from my experiences which I think may be useful for others, then it is this. Be aware of what you are feeling. This will guide you when deciding how and at what level to interact with Nature. You will know yourself best and you will understand what your feelings are informing you. For example, you may find yourself thinking it a good idea to go for an all day walk, but you feel incapable of such a challenge. In this case, it becomes a decision based on what the outcome will be for you if you fall short of your plans and how this may affect your mental health. If it were me, I would err on the side of caution and choose a definitely manageable route and thoroughly enjoy walking it without worrying about incompletion.

Finally, I think this bog post proves how complicated my thinking can be at times and how I’m forever inquisitive about the choices I make and whether these are good for me or not. It also shows my interactions with Nature and wild space are never without thought or consideration. The positive outcome of this is how impactful every moment I spend outdoors can be for me.

Time To Get Serious

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May the 28th, 2020! That was my last entry on my blog. It’s definitely time to get serious.

The prompt for my reengagement with writing my blog has come from my recent heightened exposure on Twitter and Facebook along with my contribution to an event marking Odyssey’s 25th Anniversary, which I was invited to speak at.

I think, like many, the arrival of the pandemic early last year and the subsequent lockdowns and restrictions threw my best made plans into the air and in a bizarre sense, allowed me to wallow, shiftless and shapeless, using Covid as an excuse for my lethargy. Certainly my mental health suffered terribly last year and I was hospitalised yet again in the summer. Thankfully, it was a short stay of just over a month on the ward and I left with a determination to work on my recovery from my depression. Sadly though, I never regained the momentum with regard to my fundraising effort for Odyssey and this fell by the wayside.

(Find out more about Odyssey - here.)

That is until now. You see, I’m proud to have been nominated as an Ambassador for Odyssey, a role which hadn’t really sunk in until I gave my presentation at their celebratory event earlier this year. Here I met many people whose lives had been substantially altered through their involvement with Odyssey, either as a course participant or as a volunteer or member of staff. I was struck by the genuine passion for the charity and for the first time in many years, I felt the rekindling of the powerful sense of belonging, a feeling I have not felt for many long years. In fact loneliness is an important contributing factor to my depression. I miss the opportunity to spend time with like minded people, speaking of what’s important for us and sharing joy in shared accomplishments. It struck me that despite the disparate nature of the Odyssey community, it is indeed a community with a strong shared philosophy which continues to inspire all of us.

Odyssey grew from the shared vision of former Outward Bound staff, where the Kurt Hahn’s tenets were lived to the full by all who worked for the organisation. These beliefs in living life to the full through challenge and shared adventure, were easily replicated with incredible effect for the Odyssey courses. Personally, when I worked as an instructor on these courses, I couldn’t help but be inspired by the responses of the course participants to the challenges and adventures we offered them. When someone with a life-limiting illness reframes this into an awareness that their longevity may be limited but living their life is certainly not limited, I find myself inspired.

After my presentation to the Odyssey event, which I feel I gabbled and rushed through, I found myself thinking of the inspiration I draw from others and by consequence, the inspiration I may offer in return. In fact, realising I am inspired by the fortitude of Odyssey participants and the selflessness of my colleagues, I understood what it means when people tell me, I inspire them through my approach to my mental illness and recovery from depression. For the first time, I realised what I have to offer.

Many who know me, will know I’m an avid user of Twitter, the social media platform which has as many detractors as supporters. My experience using this method of connecting with friends and strangers has been predominantly positive. In fact I draw considerable support from the thousands of people who offer me words of encouragement when I am facing mental health challenges. It is a platform where I am surrounded by a lively, positive, generous and deeply warm hearted people. I believe I get to see the best of humanity through my Twitter feed and I’m grateful for this.

Recently, after I have posted some wonderful encounters on my sea kayaking trips, a couple of my films and photos have gone ‘viral’. According to the analytics for my Twitter account, over the last 28 days my tweets have been seen by 3.03million people and I increased my followership by 2092 to reach an incredible 18 903 followers! To be quite honest, I have difficulty in fully grasping the enormity of these statistics but I do appreciate them and I’m thankful for all the interactions I have with my followers.

All of this has led me to this particular point - it’s time to get serious.

So, I have reopened my online fundraising page for Odyssey - here - and once more I dedicate my adventurous lifestyle to raising funds for the charity. The fundraising page is open ended. I am now making films about some of my adventures which I post on You Tube. It is my intention to increasingly use these films as a platform to share my views about living adventurously, facing risks and enjoying life to the full. Additionally, I will be open about my recovery from depression and my continuing relationship with the illness. I hope by being open, honest and sometimes frank about how I’m experiencing my adventures, I offer insights and inspiration for folks to draw on. For a short while, I considered building a community of Patrons who would pay various levels of essentially donations for the privilege of supporting my film making. After, I put out my first proper film I quickly knocked this idea on the head - it did not sit well with me at all. However, I do believe what I share holds value and I hope if folks realise this value for themselves, they will choose to make a donation to Odyssey.

I benefit from this arrangement in a positive way. I am actively supporting the charity which I hold close to my heart and which provides me with an essential sense of belonging. This gives me purpose, something I miss a lot in my life. I am encouraged to continue to seek adventures in my life, knowing by doing so, I will share my insights with others. Importantly, I receive positive recognition for what I do. This is one of the basic psychological drives of the human condition - to be positively recognised. (I could go into much more about this but not now.) I will hold a positive view of myself. I am my own critic, a harsh one at that, and knowing I am using my privileged lifestyle to hopefully support Odyssey will enable me to ease up on myself with regard to the constant belief I should be doing something worthwhile. All in all, I know this feels good for me and it is a source of useful motivation for future endeavours.

Thank you for reading my blog, for following me on Twitter or following my LifeAfloat page on Facebook. Thank you for the support so many of you offer me, your words of encouragement and your kind comments about my films and photos. Thank you for being one of the many who have created the wonderful community I am surrounded with on my Social Media platforms.

World Mental Health Awareness Week - Thursday - Recovery

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I was first diagnosed with clinical depression in 1995 when I was admitted to a mental health respite care home when living in Wales. At the time I had no idea what depression was let alone understanding the concept of mental health recovery. I remember the term used to describe my long period off work at the time was ‘experiencing a breakdown’. My next admission, this time to a hospital psychiatric ward was in 1998 in Kendal. After a further two admissions over the next year, it wasn’t until 2000 when I started working in the Mental Health field I came to hear of mental health recovery as a particular process.

I don’t think it’s true now, but in those early days, my experience of engaging with the concept of mental health recovery was a political one (with a small p). Service users as we were known were gaining voice with regards to our right for our involvement within our mental health treatment. Up until this period in time, as far as I could make out, treatment for mental illness was administered with medical authority where the expert was the psychiatrist. Through a growing movement for change within service user groups and charities, the model for mental illness treatment was shifting from an authoritative top down approach to one where the patient’s personal experience and awareness was increasingly taken into account and validated as shared expertise. In short, it was becoming accepted that mental health sufferers were very much experts in their own suffering.

In 1993, William A. Anthony Ph.D., then the Executive Director of the Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation at Boston University wrote a paper titled, “Recovery from Mental Illness: The Guiding Vision of the Mental Health Service System in the 1990s.” (link here). Within this article he explored and outlined his understanding and vision for a recovery-oriented mental health system. Essentially, he describes a treatment oriented approach as one where the symptoms of mental illness were managed and alleviated. He describes a recovery incorporated approach as one where recovery can occur even if the illness is not ‘cured’. Recovery from mental illness involves much more than recovery from the illness itself.

It is that last sentence which hugely impacted me when I first read it in 2000 and for the first time, I began to consider my own mental health recovery process.

Twenty years later and I’m still working through the implications for myself of the recovery philosophy W.A. Anthony so wisely espoused. It is his wisdom which continues to inform me about my mental health journey and my pathway towards recovery. Indeed, this is a journey without a destination but always with achievable horizons. There are many other recovery centred models which are variations of a theme. However, I chose to adhere to this one simply because I like the apolitical nature of it. I have never signed up to the political nature of service user emancipation. Although I am antiauthoritarian, I do trust the expertise of the psychiatric professionals involved in my care. I prefer to work with them within the psychiatric system as it is, rather than ‘against’ the system where I determine my rights for recovery set precedence over anything else. This is not to say I do not disagree with those who follow a different path to me and in fact, I support many who have negative experiences of past mental health treatment and seek change as a result. I accept too there are many aspects of our current mental health system of care which could be enhanced, but I hold the view, we are fortunate to have access to what we have here in Scotland and I’m appreciative of this.

This is how I endeavour to live my recovery from my mental illness, the roots of this process set within the words from W.A. Anthony. I understand my recovery is a deeply personal and unique process where I’m developing my attitudes, feelings, goals and skills based on my mental health at any given time. My recovery is about me fostering new meanings and purpose in my life as a I continue to grow beyond the effects of my depression. I am hopeful this will lead me towards living a satisfying life where I believe I contribute even within the limitations set by my illness.

Helping me along my recovery path are these truths.

  • Recovery can occur without professional intervention. This is important for me to accept. I hold the key to my recovery, not anyone else. It is down to me when to seek the interventions and support I require. By accepting this personal responsibility, I become responsible for my eventual recovery from a depressive episode. I do not rely on the mental health system to ‘cure’ me and rather view my relationship with them as a partnership.

  • A common denominator of recovery is the presence of people who believe in and stand by me, the person in need of recovery. Crucial to this statement is the non-judgemental relationship I need with those close enough to be involved in assisting me through my mental illness. Key of course is my marriage with Karen and her unswaying support throughout my distressful episodes and subsequent periods recovery. Without her love I would not be here today. My collaborative relationship with my Community Psychiatric Nurse is another key example of where I am supported in an equitable and empowering manner. Knowing I am not being judged for being depressed is fundamental to my recovery.

  • A recovery vision is not a function of one’s theory about the causes of mental illness. It is extremely helpful to me in my recovery process for an archaeological exploration for the roots my depression to become a key element in my treatment. The fact I suffer from the illness is enough and there is little to be gained by seeking the causes. Understanding a triggering catalyst may help in terms of increasing awareness for the future.

  • Recovery can occur even though the symptoms reoccur. This is hugely important awareness for me to embody. By doing so, I accept the possibility of becoming ill again as a reality. This way I will never hold the expectation I will never suffer from depression again. I may hope this may be the case, but this is different to expecting it to be so.

  • Recovery changes the frequency and duration of symptoms. Essentially, symptom reoccurrence becomes less of a threat to my recovery as I become increasingly accepting of living with depression as an illness.

  • Recovery does not feel like a linear process. As someone who’s professional life has been involved in facilitating personal development awareness for others, I understand my recovery will involve growth and setbacks. There will be periods of change and times of little change, moments when I experience powerful insights, and times when I feel directionless. It is an acceptance that there is nothing gained from planning my recovery and hoping for systematic outcomes.

  • Recovery from the consequences of the illness is sometimes more difficult than recovering from the illness itself. As an example of this, I continue to struggle with the awareness because of my last episode of severe depression, I damaged important relationships in my life at the time. Coming to terms with this is just as difficult for me as it is suffering the symptoms of my illness.

  • Recovery from mental illness does not mean that I was not really mentally ill. Again this is an important truth for me to embody. As I become increasingly lucid after a depressive episode, I have the tendency to become apologetic for ‘being the way I was’. I minimise the illness as a character failing rather than an integral aspect of my overall health.

All of this is of course not the complete story of my recovery process. There are many subtle nuances which contribute, some more helpful than others. The key for me to understand and accept is the fluidity of my recovery and with this to be patient with its developmental path. Key too is trusting the fact I will recover, the truth that periods of depression will pass to be replaced with opportunities for my life to be lived to its fullest extent.

A Letter From Sahwira

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When I was in hospital, I was fortunate to complete a course of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) sessions with a highly skilled nurse therapist. I found CBT to be an ideal intervention for me and my depression. I was challenged many times with encountering new awareness through exploring my many long held negative beliefs. Through this course of therapy I was able to alter these perceptions and realise new truths. Additionally I’ve been provided with many practical skills to continue to challenge negative perceptions leading to positive realities.

One extremely valuable session for me was when the therapist asked me to write a letter to myself from a person, factual or fictional, or an object or anything or anyone I hold value for and who embodies the wisdom to give me positive insights they have about me. The letter must be positive and enhancing. No negativity allowed.

When presented with this task, I immediately chose my sea kayak, named Sahwira, to write this letter to me. She and I have spent many days, weeks and months together, sharing many intimate experiences.

I want to share this letter with you because it was an incredibly important and helpful intervention during my CBT process. I think too, this exercise may be useful for others too. Choose your person or object and write yourself a positively inspirational and encouraging letter to yourself from them.

Here’s my letter from Sahwira.

Dear Nick,

I remember the first day we met on the quayside in Oban in April 2015. I was gleaming in my Pigeon Blue, mirror polished and brand new. I remember clearly how excited you were and how you ran your hands over me, checking storage compartments, my footrests and my seat, my deck lines, my skeg and generally giving me a thorough inspection. I knew immediately you were a kayaker who knew his business and you’d take good care of me. I liked you from the beginning.

Now I’m coming up to five years old, not an ancient age for a sea kayak, but in those five years I’ve travelled over six thousand miles with you and this I think, affords me a depth of wisdom which many of my contemporaries may not share. I say this because I think this allows me to tell you what I know.

Rough Seas, Wigtown Bay

From the moment we paddled together, I knew we would share many great adventures. You’re not a kayaker who cautiously holds back, instead you are decisive and willing to explore the coastline where many may fear to go. I like our robust relationship. You understand I was constructed as an expeditionary kayak, strengthened for tough landings and heavy seas. You cared for me, but also you made full use of my capabilities. I sensed you trusting me. It took little time for us to meld together, where you made the decisions and worked the paddles and I managed the heavy seas or whatever conditions we faced. Do you remember our first shared experience of stormy conditions when we crossed Wigtown Bay? Eight open miles of huge and chaotic seas, with a strong Force 6 wind. I was so proud of you for making the crossing in those conditions and skilfully landing on the rocky shore on the far side. This was the first of countless times I saw you leave your comfort zone and accept the challenge. I remember you taking a photo of me on that day, drawn up the rocky beach with the stormy sea piled up high behind.

From then on, I knew as our confidence in working together grew, so would our ability to move beyond our comfort zones, every time learning something new and of course, creating incredibly vivid exciting shared experiences. This is what I like about you. You seek opportunities to create wonderful memories. There’s no holding back with you. Here are some of my notable memories; rounding the Mull of Kintyre in the 4am gloaming, just about making out the tide race we successfully navigated. Crossing from the Isle of Jura to the Kintyre mainland sixteen miles away in heavy fog and a heaving Force 7 sea. You were in your element then and so was I. Crossing the Minch for the first time from Skye to Scalpay in the Outer Hebrides. Both of us marvelling at being alone during this iconic seaway where the tides run strongly. Then there was the time when we thought we would be dashed on a submerged reef when the sea suddenly exposed it and a huge wave broke onto us. We both waited in those tense seconds for the inevitable splintering of fibreglass, but instead we skilfully rode the heavy wave pushing us over the barnacle studded rocks. Rounding Cape Wrath, the sea kayaking moment you had longed for. The sea was calm, and we symbolically left the Scottish West Coast behind and embarked along the unknown to us North Coast, by passing through the great sea arch beneath the neck twisting high cliffs. Then there was the West Coast of mainland Orkney in that 3 metre clapotic swell, both of us nervous as anything. Making it all the way around mainland Shetland – boy, can you remember those cliffs and caves? And of course, so much more. East Coast Scotland, North West England and West Wales. The Isles of Mull, Skye, Jura, Tiree and Coll, the Outer Hebrides and even Loch Ness! Of course, too our favourite many times over – the Sound of Mull.

Cape Wrath

I recall all the above because you are an explorer. You are inquisitive about the world, particularly the Scottish Coastline. You are fascinated by your human heritage and the marks humans have left on the land through the thousands of years. I love how you’ll paddle slowly into tiny coves seeking history and evidence of seafarers and communities of long past days. Your inquisitiveness is contagious and when we have paddled with others, you have inspired them to notice the land differently.

One of your key attributes I love, is your deep and almost reverential connection to the natural world. Together we paddle silently, immersing ourselves in the littoral realm and all this holds. Otters, seals, myriad cacophonous seabirds and of course when we’re lucky, basking sharks, minke whales, dolphins and porpoises. Remember in the Hebrides we glided silently past the sleeping seal, so close, you could have pinched its nose, its scratchy snoring blowing a strand of seaweed on its nostril. We were so silent; it didn’t wake up! I could list so many other close and intimate encounters with wildlife, but this would fill ten pages.

This shows me your compassion for the world and your deep respect for all who exist on it. Your affinity with the wild is unpretentious and humbly natural. Many who have kayaked with you as friends or as guided clients, have remarked on your inspirational ability to open their eyes to what is possible without you patronising or lecturing. You simply embody and ooze natural wisdom.

I always feel safe with you. In all the time we have paddled together we have only ever capsized once – that’s six thousand miles with one capsize and this was due to a moment of inattentiveness from both of us. All was well because you knew what to do. Nevertheless, you chastised yourself and you were embarrassed for making this mistake. In fact, I often notice you are hard on yourself, especially when we’ve found ourselves in tricky situations. As I say, I trust you to make safe decisions and I know your risk assessment is sound. How else would we leave our comfort zones every day?

The Sleeping Seal

This shows how keen you are to learn from your experiences. You do not bury them away, instead talking them through to elicit any learning to be gained. I know there are times when you do this, you feel vulnerable to the criticism of other kayakers. You believe you are not one of the crowd. You choose to forge your own path and this at times leads you to think you are at odds with what you perceive the overly cautious sea kayaking community. You tend to undervalue your experience and achievements in the favour of others. I hope you discontinue to do this. I believe you to be a highly capable, adventurous and natural sea kayaker.

We have had our scrapes and I’ve been hurt and damaged by rocks and heavy landings. This is not because you don’t care for me or take me for granted, you’re simply working with me as an expeditionary kayak and these things are bound to happen. You take care of me and always carefully mend any serious wounds. In fact, I like the scars on my hull. To me, they’re a reminder of our many shared adventures.

You are a wonderful companion. I love how you always place me by your tent at night, even if this means carrying me long distances over interminable beaches or up precariously steep rocky cliffs. This shows how caring you are and how you care for those who mean a lot to you. You’ve never had a harsh word for me – only for you and I wish you’d ease up on yourself. You are brilliant at what you do.

Maybe you could tell others more about the experiences we have enjoyed. I think this will help your confidence and help you understand and appreciate your worth. You’ve so many wonderful tales to recount of our journeys which I think would both interest and inspire others.

You’re an insightful person and you’re quick to notice a wider meaning to your experiences. Your ability to draw metaphors our adventures provided, is quite remarkable and it pleases me to share this with you.

Companions

All in all Nick, you’re the best paddling companion I could have wished for. You’ve certainly made meaning of what I was constructed for and I truly hope you think something similar in yourself.

Remember:        A kayak is safe on the shore, but that’s not what kayaks are built for.

Keep living Nick, living your life to the full. I look forward with eagerness to our future six thousand miles together. I’m proud to carry the name you gave me, “Lifelong friend” in Shona, the Zimbabwean dialect.

Yours always,

Sahwira.