Therapy at the age of 58 changed everything after a lifelong battle with depression

Andrew Norman, 60, kept his depression secret for 40 years. At several points he felt so low, he was suicidal. But finally opening up to a therapist two years ago was truly transformative.

Andrew Norman (right) says opening up to both his mental health mentor Tim Rowe (left) and his therapist Sonia Mills changed his life. (David Stoddart)
Andrew Norman (right) says opening up to both his mental health mentor Tim Rowe (left) and his therapist Sonia Mills changed his life. (David Stoddart)

It was a motorbike ride that could have turned fatal that made me realise I needed help. Depressed for years, aged 25, I was drinking heavily and, riding home worse for wear after another night at the pub, I started to feel suicidal.

This wasn’t the first time I’d had suicidal thoughts. In fact, back then I had dark thoughts all the time. When I got home that night, I realised that many years of drinking heavily seven nights a week was making me depressed. But it wasn’t just the drink.

Where I grew up in St Sampsons, a parish in Guernsey, I’d never fitted in or made friends. I’d found school a struggle and, labelled a disruptive influence, I’d failed to thrive. It was in my 20s that depression became part of my life when I was working in a difficult, stressful environment and in the evenings, I drank to drown out my feelings.

Andrew, pictured in his youth. His depression began in his 20s and he turned to drink to cope. (Supplied)
Andrew, pictured in his youth. His depression began in his 20s and he turned to drink to cope. (Supplied)

A garden machinery mechanic, I had a steady job, but the high-tension environment caused me to retreat into myself. I felt depressed all the time, but at work I put on a brave face. I’d always turn difficult situations into a joke and be sociable with customers when required, but after work I’d be the one in the pub at the end of the bar, not speaking to anyone, just drinking.

I felt depressed all the time, but at work I put on a brave face.

I kept my depressive feelings bottled up. My parents, who I lived with, knew I drank but I didn’t tell them why – I kept them in the dark over my suicidal thoughts. I never discussed feelings with workmates. If we went to the pub together, I’d sit on the outside of the group and not join in.

But after my terrifying thoughts on the motorbike ride home, I knew I needed help. I went to my doctor who put me on antidepressants, and I tried turning to religion, even tried different faiths, but ultimately it wasn’t for me.

Back then, where I lived there weren’t many options open to men with mental health problems. If you went to the state psychiatric clinic, everyone would brand you 'a nutter'. People could be judgmental, with the attitude that if you couldn’t handle life, there must be something wrong with you.

Andrew tried group therapy at first but that didn't suit him. (David Stoddart)
Andrew tried group therapy at first but that didn't suit him. (David Stoddart)

My life changed for the better when I met Julie, my wife, in 2007. She was the partner of a friend, and we’d always got on well, and after he died, we got together and moved in with Julie’s mum. But for a long time, I didn’t open up about my depression with her. It was part of my life I wasn’t proud of and I kept it locked away.

It was part of my life I wasn’t proud of and I kept it locked away.

Then at 53, I gave up alcohol and within a couple of years got the courage to leave the stressful job and set up my own business repairing garden machinery. It was all going well and we ploughed what little money we had into the business. But I was forced to close down by the planning department and my life just fell apart. I was back to feeling suicidal.

This time I tried group therapy but it set me back even further – everyone was in their 20s and, three times their age, I struggled to cope. I don’t do groups, and I’d leave the sessions in a worse state than when I arrived.

Then, at Julie’s insistence, I went to Men Sheds, a community-based wellbeing centre where men get to make and repair objects. Loving using my hands again, I ended up going there seven days a week. And it was there that I met Timothy Rowe, founder of The Wild Wolf, a wellbeing company. Two years ago, Timothy became my mental health mentor and with his encouragement, I had therapy.

As I talked through my problems, with my therapist's help I found ways of sealing off the past and learnt strategies to get life’s challenges into proportion.

For eight months, I saw my therapist, Sonia, every week and while I was wary at first, with her I found I could open up. It was 'person-centred clean language therapy', a type of therapy that helps you explore your thoughts and feelings using open-ended questions, without judgement, to help you work out your own meanings and solutions. Working it out for myself and 'owning' my story means I now recognise negative thought patterns and put them in their place.

After a while, as I talked through my problems, with Sonia's help, I found ways of sealing off the past and learned strategies to get life’s challenges into proportion. I found that once I’d said them out loud, the things I was really worried about were actually insignificant.

As my mental health mentor, Tim focuses more on helping me move forwards with a sense of purpose, rather than dwelling too long on the past. Tim encouraged me to write poetry, something I’d done in the 80s when writing down those unspoken dark feelings got them out of my system. Now, all these years later, I was writing happy poems, and they were just spilling out of me.

Finally at the age of 58, Andrew learned to 'accept' himself through therapy. (David Stoddart)
Finally at the age of 58, Andrew learned to 'accept' himself through therapy. (David Stoddart)

At this point I had another significant breakthrough. Tested for autism, I was found to be high on the autism scale. This helped me enormously as it explained why I’d never fitted in anywhere – I think differently to other people, and where I’d always considered it a fault on my part, I now realised it’s the way I am. For me, self-acceptance was, at last, a reality.

To any man who suffers with depression I’d say: while you can survive for many years bottling it up, that’s not living, it’s just surviving.

I feel happier than I’ve ever been now. I’m able to make sense of my life. I’ve got my own little 3D printing business making dragon fidget toys for autistic children and it feels good to be doing something worthwhile.

To any man who suffers with depression I’d say: while you can survive for many years bottling it up, that’s not living, it’s just surviving. As I found, there are people out there who will want to help you. In my darkest moments I found a community that gave me something I’d been missing for a long time – hope. I love my life now, something I never thought I’d say.

Time To Talk Day on Thursday 6 February is a chance for us all to be more open about mental health – to talk, listen and change lives.

CALM's helpline and webchat are open from 5pm until midnight, 365 days a year. Call CALM on 0800 58 58 58 or chat to their trained helpline staff online, it’s free, anonymous and confidential.

You can also contact Samaritans free on 116 123 or view other ways to get in touch with the charity. Or for more information about mental health and how to get help visit Mind.

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