Challenging my negative thoughts: Jas's story

After a lifetime of feeling like an outsider, with body confidence issues, and an online addiction, Jas dropped out of university and found himself on a path that wasn’t fulfilling. But, in eventually admitting he needed help and discovering various forms of support, he’s finally understood his needs and found some positivity

I wish my mental health story was this perfect narrative with a clear start, middle and end. Unfortunately, mental health doesn’t work like that. So where to begin?

I thought I was a normal kid with a pretty privileged upbringing, and no reason to be unwell. I’d always been sensitive, timid and reserved, but when I came out of my shell, I seemed like any normal, functioning child.

School had largely been a place of comfort for me, where I knew what to expect and who was who. But I struggled with direction as school got “serious”, and I had to make decisions (A-levels and university) that would set me on this seemingly unalterable path. When a number of new students joined in sixth form – new people, new faces who seemed a lot older and cooler than me – I felt like a complete outsider.

I lacked a lot of confidence in myself, my body, and the opposite sex. My familial upbringing (I’m a British-born Indian) an all-boys secondary school probably played a part. I was this short, skinny brown kid who was constantly told how unhealthy I looked, and how I needed to eat more by folks who didn’t mean to be malicious, but whose comments slowly ate away at my already-questionable levels of self-esteem.

One of my uncles dragged me along to the gym and showed me the ropes of weight-training around this time, and so began a period of bulking with one goal in mind: to get bigger.

At one point, I was eating six to eight meals a day to put on weight. Body image in men is an issue for sure, and with the likes of Instagram, men’s health magazines, and celebrity-culture, I feel it is only getting worse.

When I went to university, I felt even more like a fish out of water – lost, alone, and younger than ever. I definitely didn’t find “my people” there like I’d hoped – probably because I hadn’t fully embraced the person I was. I missed the familiar and safe surroundings of home, and I didn’t know why I was doing the courses I’d chosen – full disclosure: I dropped out twice.

I ended up hanging around with a group of people I shared halls with, who I didn’t have much in common with; friends by circumstance. I’d go out, drink more than I needed and wanted to, and spend the next day holed up in my room, unhappy.

During my teens, I developed an online addiction, beginning innocuously with MSN Messenger and chat rooms, seeking the connection and relationships online I had so wanted in real life, but didn’t know how to attain.

This only continued at university. I thought at some point through going out and drinking, stuff with the “opposite sex” would just happen. In short, not a lot did happen. So I’d come home drunk and jump onto the computer, compensating for what I was missing out on in real-life. It became both addictive behaviour, and an avoidance strategy for what was happening in real life.

At the time, I was hardly eating. I was wasting away. It was another way to suppress my feelings. A couple of friends staying in my halls would knock on my door, and I’d just lie there motionless, physically and mentally exhausted. Behind closed doors, I was crumbling and self-destructing.

Having dropped out of university, I found myself working in recruitment. While I loved meeting and connecting with people, the commute and hours were long, and the job became exhausting and unfulfilling.

I handed in my notice the day I received confirmation to study a year-long Masters at the University of East London in 2015, and I also began a career-changers’ course with Escape The City (an online community to inspire people to do the work they love). The trouble was, with lectures only every three weeks, I had a lot of alone time. Oh, and there’s also no single answer to what you’re supposed to do with your life.

On top of everything else, I found myself in this existential angst – what is sometimes referred to as a “quarter-life crisis”. I felt lonely and isolated again, with all sorts of thoughts cropping up and tumbling around inside my head.

After finishing my Masters in late 2016, ironically in positive psychology, I hit another major low-point. It was the first time my family had seen me like this, now under their roof as opposed to in my university halls. I felt very low on energy, and mood.

At Mum’s insistence, I eventually succumbed and went to a psychiatrist in December 2016. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety, but it took several months for me to acknowledge and accept this. As far as I was concerned, I hadn’t been suicidal or self-harmed, so I wasn’t unwell. But through therapy, antidepressants, and observing similar personality traits in the patients in group therapy, I eventually accepted it.

I also had individual therapy, and was also exposed to art therapy for the first time. As an outlet for self-expression, I was able to work through some long-stifled emotions, and both anger and tears emerged. It felt like those emotions needed to come out.

Since 2016, I have begun implementing things in my daily life to help manage my mental health. I am pleased to say I am probably in the best place I have been in for many years.

Yoga has helped massively with my body image, amongst other things. I am learning to love, accept, and be kind to myself.

I still get thoughts creeping in – especially when things seem to be “going well” – which my therapist says is my saboteur coming into play. When this happens, instead of avoiding it at all costs, I write it down to get it out in the open, and challenge those thoughts.

The challenge I initially had with my mental health was that I failed to put a finger on exactly what was wrong, and so what I needed to work on. It was a mix of low self-esteem, lack of direction, high sensitivity, and other things linked to my general energy.

Connection and strong social relationships are really important to me – and yet I am also someone who craves downtime to recharge. I am a lot more conscious now about who I give my time to, and have the confidence to do the things I want to do, not just what I feel I’m “expected” to do.

It’s a work-in-progresss but, on the whole, I’m managing well. After a couple of years on-and-off therapy, I’m soon going to be ending this latest course, hopefully for the long-term, though knowing it is always a resource for me to use if I need it.

I have a list of “happy habits”, ranging from getting enough sleep, through to carving out space for down-time which I know, as long as I am leaning into, will keep me in a good place. Whether it’s medication, therapy or changes to my lifestyle/mindset, the important thing is I know I have a wide range of tools at my disposal. And that’s really reassuring.

Perhaps the most important thing is the mindset that I have mental health, and that needs to be looked after and nourished just like my physical health.