Hide and Sleep

Almost like the kids game hide and seek except I don’t want to be found, nor do I want to be woken up.

All I want to do is hide away from everyday stresses and challenges that are mounting up and reducing my enthusiasm and energy levels for doing pretty much anything!

I have reverted back to the old days of hiding myself away from people, I have removed myself from groups on Facebook that have been part of me for years. Not that anyone has noticed mind you but that is by the by, why should people notice if I am around or not when I have nothing useful to offer.

As a father, husband and a friend I am pretty useless at the moment, wallowing in self pity is my biggest trait currently.

Take today as an example, our internet and TV service was suspended as the bill was overdue, now our bill is insane given our financial situation but I couldn’t be without my internet or sports. So after hunting round and finding a credit card that had enough to cover the bill I had to wait for the service to be reactivated. So what did I do? I slept until 2 pm because I couldn’t handle not being able to come online, or watch TV!

Priorities all wrong I hear you cry, and I am ready for people to criticise me for having such a high bill and package for TV but then as I don’t ever leave the house unless essential why shouldn’t we be able to have entertainment indoors? it just so happens that we were a few days short of paying the bill this month and virgin media wouldn’t wait!

Besides my worryingly over reliance on the internet, my intentions towards over people are good! I really do want to help others deal with depression and other mental health illnesses. I make an effort to contact people via social media if I can see they are having a rough time, or even if I notice an absence of activity and I would like to think it is appreciated rather than me being a pain in the arse!

I guess from my point of view I committed the cardinal sin of mental health which is to worry about other people to the extent that I forget to look after myself. I can’t help it I like the idea of helping people but truth be told I don’t think I am a nice or good person! I am the first to moan that people don’t contact me, it’s all about me and my issues not you and your problems and I hate that about myself I really do.

(Hopefully at this point people will say otherwise!)

I didn’t even manage to attend the time to change event at the weekend that I volunteered for, the truth was all I could do was sleep. I couldn’t face it, yet felt awful for letting people down.

You see the problem with this moose when he is going through a rough patch like this is that he becomes very needy! To the point of attention seeking! see I admitted it, I know my faults and don’t deny them. This doesn’t mean I do anything about them of course but acknowledging them is the first step right?

If anyone has any suggestions for combating this need to be loved, admired or simply wanted I would be grateful because it drives me mad! I wish I knew why I was so obsessed with numbers and stats my life would be much better if this was not the case.

Don’t hate me for it you will grow to love me for my neediness honest!

Meanwhile if you see a sleeping moose don’t wake him, sometimes a sleeping moose is a happy moose! or at the very least a non moaning, miserable bastard moose!

Photo Credit: Google

Photo Credit: Google

Guest Post – Natalie

In the Trenches

From the moment I wake up to the quiet midnight hours when I finally convince myself to seek sleep, often with unbrushed teeth and the days tired makeup still in place,
-it’s presence is tangible.
The empty hole just beneath my chest weighs heavy with its handiwork and the uncomfortable pressure pushing in on my lungs like a poorly fitted corset is a constant reminder that all is not well.
Like a snake the depression twisted its way in, poisoning my mind and crushing all life from my heart. It is from this place that I write today..

My name is Natalie and I’m 41 years old. I was diagnosed with Bi Polar 1 13 years ago, but I suffered with severe depression for years before that. My adult life has been rudely interrupted on numerous occasions with lengthy stays in hospital psych wards, countless sessions with well meaning Psychologists and crazy concoctions of mountains of medication.
It has been an exhausting ride, a roller coaster ride that I’ve been strapped into for life, and so a few years ago I decided to learn to use each depressive episode to make me stronger, more compassionate, and more prepared for the future.

Right now I’m worn out.
The depression I’m in has had me in the trenches for 3 weeks now with no sign of relief. The enemy bullets are flying in fast and low; self loathing, ruminating, low self esteem, anxiety, hopelessness…
My Doc increased my anti depressant, but to no avail.
So we wait,
And we hope,
Because this too shall pass.

In the meantime, take courage in the trenches. I know you feel alone ( I know I really do), but you’re not so don’t isolate yourself. Safety in numbers! Also, keep your helmet pulled on tight to protect your mind from enemy attack. (Often I’m my own worst enemy).
This war on your mind and body will end, the bullets will cease… think back, they eventually always do.
And then once again the sky will be blue for me and you.

Love Nan x
follow Natalie on twitter here

Guest Post – Sarah

I am constantly being asked what caused my depression. I wish it was as simple as finding a “cause”. As most people with depression know, it’s a brain thing; my GP said that my brain misfired a bit and it will eventually repair itself. I like that, it makes the guilt that I am not “ fully functioning” a lot less painful.

I had a hard time in work in 2010, did that cause my depression? Probably not, it didn’t help that’s for sure but I doubt it was the cause.

I got divorced in 2011, did that cause it? Again, probably not; when you’re already depressed which my ex reckons I was for years then everything that ends up being less than good makes it worse. Bit by bit, your depression takes you over, you don’t notice it but it’s there like the drips that cause stalactites and stalagmites.

After my divorce, my life changed. Not just because I no longer had a husband but because I only had to look after myself and my cat. No one would moan at me if things didn’t get done, I only had myself to blame and that was liberating. After the house was sold, I moved into a temporary apartment as it was just before Christmas and I hadn’t had a chance to do any flat hunting. While there, I made a drastic, some say brave, decision. I moved away from the area I had lived in for 10 years and relocated myself to a town where I only knew 2 people. It was a revelation, I have rented a little 1 bedroom flat with a garden and I finally feel settled. Sounds like I’m cured right? Wrong! I still struggle with the depression and every day at the moment is a struggle.

In the summer, I applied to study part time at the University of Kent, never believing for a moment that they would accept me but I was wrong. In September last year, I started my course, it lasts for 6 years but I don’t care, as long as I do as well as I can and graduate I will be happy.

Also in the summer I did something that I can only describe as crazy, I abseiled down my local church tower (100ft tall!) I hate heights, with a passion. I froze on the ladder on the way up the tower but was more scared of going down it than out onto the roof! After a lot of persuading I did it, I didn’t enjoy it and got told off for saying it to someone but I did it! I lived on that high for a few weeks.

So to cap all this off, in the last year or so, I have changed my life, partially because of necessity but mostly because I wanted to. I don’t want to be the person I was when I was with my ex, I need to get my confidence back and I need my brain to fix itself. Until that happens, I will cope, life will get tricky but I will see a way through it because I have to. Depression is not going to beat me, I can’t allow it to and I have to graduate in 2018 so nothing can stop me doing that. You hear that depression? You have been warned!


Follow Sarah’s blog here or on twitter here

Guest Post – The Bipolar Biker


The above are just letters, yes? Meaningless to some, a mere jumble of random letters. Or a seriously shit hand if you’re playing Scrabble.

Bur what does it all mean?

Well, they all mean a lot to me. In fact, they define me.

I’ll give you a run down of what they all mean.

BPD – that’s the Bipolar Disorder that I live with. And when I say ‘I’, I mean me and the people who I live and work with. It’s not just hard to live with the feelings that come free with every bout of depression, but it’s hard for those that support and care for me.

BPD is mainly manic depression, which can control so much of my life. The manic highs ain’t what they’re cracked up to be.

Imagine a hyper active 3-year-old on the mother of all sugar rushes. Then imagine that 3-year-old as a 5’7″, 14 stone guy who knows how to look after himself and is pretty much unstoppable.. That’s what my partner has to put up with. It makes me do things that normal men my age wouldn’t think of doing.

When I’m on a manic high, I have a wicked sense of humour and (so it’s been said) a cheeky glint in my eye and I can be very confidant. Or overly confidant. I feel untouchable. Totally 100% invincible. And that’s when I put myself at risk or in harm’s way. All without realising it. It’s hard to explain, but trust me, it’s a damn sight harder to live with. Just ask my long-suffering partner.

And then there’s the flip side – the depression. Some people think that those who suffer with depression can ‘snap out of it’ or ‘pull ourselves together’. It’s not that easy.

There are days that just drag on, minute by minute, hour by hour. The days where I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t ‘be’. Those are the dark days, the days full of self loathing and every breath, every movement is painful.

My skin feels like its paper-thin. Just a breeze can feel like razor cuts. It’s not a real pain, I know that, but during these times, it’s real enough. Even thinking hurts me. I can’t get motivated to even take care of everyday hygiene. I can’t shave. Looking in a mirror I see a waste of space, a failure, and I hate myself. I don’t mean a general ‘dislike’, I’m meaning pure, unadulterated hatred. And that hatred is for every part of me. My body, the way I look, the way I am.

I wish, as I’m sure a lot of people who suffer with depression, that there was just a happy medium. No depression. No mania. Just me. But, there are times when I think that would make me boring. Or maybe not……

Then there’s OCD – Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Or, as I prefer to call it, CDO as it’s more ordered. Whilst I acknowledge that I’m lucky as I don’t have extreme OCD like some people, the small effects that I DO have are more than enough.

Some people find my OCD or bête noir amusing, and I suppose they are, but they can make life difficult for me. I can’t have melted chocolate near me AT ALL!!! I have to check locks on doors and windows at least 5 times. And even then, I’ve been known to tour round the house and re-check. Or drive back from a trip out to make sure the door is shut and secure.

Sounds funny, but it can really put the mockers on a day out or can lead to sleepless nights. Which can lead to other issues.

On to SH. That’s Self Harm. I self harm. Not just when I’m in the pits of depression, but also when I’m on a manic high. Self harm has had a bad press recently and for some sad reason seems to have become a fashion statement for ‘da yoof’ of today, but it’s not just the teenage girl in her room making tentative scratches on her arms that is the typical self harmer.

It’s not just cutting. I don’t cut. Every one of my fingers has been broken. My wrist has a hairline fracture that went unseen to. I hit things. It was mistaken for temper tantrums when I was younger. But it’s not a temper thing. It’s not an attention seeking thing. It’s a way to feel. Something. Anything.

Some times I just feel nothing. No feeling for anyone, anything or myself. So, the pain I feel reminds me that I’m alive. Kind of…. A negative feeling is better than no feeling. And the thing is, at the time, I don’t realise I’m doing it. I wake up with bruises or another finger dislocated.

So, how did I hide the bruising, the dislocations? Easy. I have an active job. I have done jobs that are very physical and so the bruising were ‘part of the job’.

The PTSD is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This used to be called ‘Shell Shock’ during the First World War, and soldiers suffered from it because of the constant barrage of shells from the enemy. The soldiers who were afflicted by it couldn’t carry out their duties as a soldier and were therefore, treated as deserters and shot.

So what brings about PTSD? Naturally, I wasn’t under constant shelling from an enemy army. The clue is in the title. Post. Trauma.

During my life, I have suffered at the hands of others. And that has left some serious mental scarring. I have lived with this all my life, and until a bout of hypnotherapy, it remained locked away. It was almost as if it was a ghost memory, something that’s there, but nothing that I can recall.

It did, however, make me confused as to who and what I was. I went through my teenage years angry (or even more angry than the usual teen) and I never knew why. Nor did my parents.

Long story short, I felt my sexuality was questionable. And so I ‘experimented’ when I was 16 or so. Big mistake. I ended up getting attacked.

And who could I tell?




And so I lived with that and buried it deep inside. I have coping mechanisms that I put into place to ‘block’ bad things. But the thing is, they’re never really blocked. The memories just sit there and fester. And sometimes they come out with explosive results.

As did mine thanks to hypnotherapy. I still have nightmares about it. But, with support, I’m coping with it.

And there we go, dear reader.

Well…. almost. What about the ‘H’ I hear you ask?

Well that is simple.

The H is for Human.

Same as you, dear reader. I have my faults, and plenty of them. I know that. And I acknowledge it.

But, as we humans do, I have my good points too.

I said at the beginning of this post that these things define me. And they have.

Even with all my ‘issues’ I have lived a fruitful life. I have found love. I have found someone who I can talk to, someone I can share my deepest secrets with. I have felt the love that only having children can bring. I have served in the police force and served well. I’m able to hold down a job.

And for the most part, I have found understanding. But I have also found ignorance too. And I hope that the stigma that is attached to mental illness can be got rid of. I hope so. I really do.

A lot of people are surprised when I tell them that I have a mental illness. But its part of me. It IS me. But I’m not brave for talking about it. Far from it.

I’m just me. Just a whole lotta thoughts and a load of letters that are a rubbish Scrabble hand….


Follow more from the Bipolar Biker at his blog here or connect with him on twitter here

Guest Post – Jess

When the moose made an open invitation for guest bloggers on twitter, I loved the idea of it but wasn’t entirely sure what I would write, and truthfully was a little nervous about what some of my mates that follow me on twitter may make of this. But hey ho, I’ve never been one to be ashamed of my depression, it makes me who I am.

 So, as my 21st birthday and 5 year anniversary of being diagnosed with depression, looms right around the corner, here is my very first blog about it.

 Looking back, the first signs something was wrong with me were in early 2006 – I remember going to watch my beloved Rotherham Utd away at local rivals Doncaster. After the match, I came home, got in bed and cried. I don’t know why, if I remember rightly we won the game so it definitely wasn’t because my team are shite! Moving on to the summer holidays that year, I found myself not wanting to go out with my mates, instead sitting at home in my room all day, and when it came to our family holiday, I had zero confidence in going down to the poolside with my mum and dad, or going swimming. Which is something I’ve always loved to do. I think I spent most of that two week holiday in our apartment.

 Fast forward to my GCSE years at school, attendance was low, as was my confidence, motivation and outlook on life. I was lucky enough to have a brilliant and supportive form tutor at school and was referred to the Student Support Mentors. Eventually, they took me out of my regular timetable, gave me a day a week at a local centre for kids, doing arts and crafts (that was the only thing I still found enjoyment in) to try and help me back to my old self.

 Year 11 soon came around, the summer holidays were spent pretty much the same as the previous years, so inevitably, my depression had got worse. Again, it was agreed that I would spend school hours in the Student Support room, the only place I felt safe. By now, my mates had pretty much given up on asking me to go out, who can blame them at that age, not knowing what was going on.

 Later that school year, my Student Support Mentors got in touch with my local Mind charity, and once a week a youth mental health worker would come into school and see me. The work Sandra did with me was brilliant, and helped me on my way to firstly getting diagnosed and then recovery. Whilst every other day of the week my mentors were having to come to my house to get me into school, I somehow always found the willpower to go into school for my session with Sandra.

 It wasnt until just before my exams started that I finally got diagnosed with depression, after one visit to a child psychiatrist I was put on the lowest dose of Fluoxetine possible. Things began to get better just in time for my exams. I came out with results better than I was expecting, providing I hadn’t been in an actual class for one and a half years. I owe that completely to my mentors at school and Sandra from Mind, without that none stop support, continuing to make me go to school, put hours aside to teach me themselves, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Sometimes I wonder if I woud have made it through at all.

 Right now, I’m 20 years old, still taking Fluoxtine daily (40mg now) and despite just last week calling my mental health worker to make an appointment to see her, I am overall happy and content. I’m currently studying to go to university and study Sports coaching and am coaching sports in special schools around my area. I hope to provide my own service helping people with mental health issues on a way to recovery through sport, but that is still a while away.

 In the past year, I’ve started to get back the enjoyment I used to feel from playing football and socialising, and as a result of that have made some good friends. They don’t know it, but they go a long way to helping the way I feel right now.

 This time last year, I was on the sick for 6 weeks, barely able to get out of bed. As I write this, apart from the odd day (which I have come to accept) I am the a happiest I have been for 5 years.

 If you’re struggling, please talk to someone. There’s always help out there, and remember – as much as it doesn’t feel like it now – it gets better.

Thanks for reading

Jess – @jesstemps92

Guest Blogs

I have extended an invitation to people on Facebook and Twitter to submit posts on this blog, the same offer applies to people who read this as well.

What I would like is people to write about their experiences of depression as either someone who suffers it or maybe from the perspective of a partner who’s loved one battle depression.

The hope is to get a few submissions from various people who would not normally write about it to enable everyone who feels comfortable talking about depression to have a voice.

I know there are not 1000s of people who read this little blog but maybe it will help others have a say!

If you would like to submit something please email me at thedepressedmoose at hotmail dot com

The depressed moose giving people a voice! makes a change from hearing mine doesn’t it?

If I Were..

I have seen this “game” on a couple of blogs and thought I would give it a go..

If I were a politician I would be

Firstly I don’t have the ability in me to be a politician, I care too much about other people and I am too honest to be able to look myself in the mirror after a day of bullshitting the public that elected me and screwing them whilst claiming thousands in expenses!

But that being said I would close the borders and stop mass immigration. I would stop the bankers from ruining the countries finances and being rewarded with millions in bonuses and I would remind every other politician that they are meant to serve the people not fuck them on a regular basis!

If I were a pop star I would be

a bed hopping, jack daniels swilling paparazzi dream! heck I’m 34 not 94! now if only i could sing, not that singing appears to be a requirement these days.

If I were a film star I would be

Al Pacino. I am similar to him with my ability to scare people with my sudden switch of temper and loud voice!

If I were in a soap opera I would be

The person women want to have and men want to be like, respected and feared at the same time.

If I were a writer I would be

Spending my time counting piles of money from royalties and movie deals, instead of trying to flog my crappy books now LOL

If I were a book I would be

the kind that you couldn’t put down. A romance novel with a strong masculine hero who saves the day and the girl

If I were a TV show host I would be

A talk show host like Johnathon Ross – near the knuckle but able to get people to open up. The stars would all want to appear on my show. The title would be Moose Meets..

If I were a criminal I would be

As a mafia nut the only answer here would be a mafia family boss!

If I were a religion I would be

I would be a religion that promoted tolerance but actually meant it – one open to all regardless of gender, colour and sexuality. All Hail Moose

If I were a mythical beast I would be

I would be a politician that cared!

If I were a Disney character I would be

I would be Aladdin – the street rat with a heart of gold

If I were a drug I would be

I wouldnt know where to begin here never touched drugs so couldnt really say. But to coin a song “love is the drug” so i would be love! Apparently it’s all you need, if it works for The Beatles it works for me.

If I were an animal I would be

Obviously I would be a moose! As my good friend Cindy once said “strong and graceful but vulnerable in the circle of life”

If I were a piece of food I would be

I would be comfort food, something that makes everything all better. Chocolate, hen i would be a chocolate moose 😀

If I were an illness I would be

Something that is curable, an illness that makes you feel vulnerable but once cured stronger than ever before

If I were a mood I would be

delirium but in a happy had too much sugar kinda way

If I were a holiday resort I would be

i would be vegas! lots of neon, bright lights and strippers and what happens there stays there!

If I were a pattern I would be

i wouldnt be a set pattern, I would be a big dollop on the middle of paper that is then folded in half and spread across the paper, bright colours though to reflect my loud personality

If I were a tree I would be

I am already a tree as people say I’m TREEmendous!

Have a go at this would love to see some answers!


This post is by my twin brother who has dealt with a stammer all his life, and an annoying twin brother taking the piss! please have a read!

Hi I'm stammer and I have a David

So why at the age of 34 have i decided to do this now?, Well it all really began when I was sitting uncomfortably watching the undateables with my wife Debbie when it suddenly dawned on me, without my wife being so supportive and standing by me that i could easily be on an episode, my speech has gotten that bad over the past years that i feel its uncontrollable and an embarrassment, As you will learn with this blog my speech is my Achilles heal, it controls me and i have a big chip on my shoulder about it, the best way i can describe is that whenever it happens i feel about one inch tall, i get embarrassed and hate myself. Debbie described it best when she says its like your own little prison the only way i can describe the feeling is that whenever i stutter my…

View original post 1,851 more words

Help The Moose – SOM Save Our Moose

Ok ladies and gentlemen I come to you in desperate need of your help, ideas and advice.

My books are not selling! My new book has sold 1 copy on kindle, and 4 paperbacks – of those 4 paperbacks I have bought 2 of them and the person who bought the kindle edition also purchased the paperback so it means only 3 people have bought the new book.

I am humbly asking for your help in suggesting ways to promote the books as I obviously have no idea how to do it and as a result my confidence is at ground zero!

I did a free promotion on the poetry book which generated 75 “sales” but no additional sales as a result so is it worth me making Diary of The Depressed Moose book 1 free to try and get some interest in the 2nd book?

Ideas and suggestions needed because I am at my wits end checking the sales and not seeing the figures go up and this is not helping my mood.

Depression and the feeling of being a failure are not helped by people not wanting my books – yes I know its silly but that is how depression works.

Click here for my authors page on Amazon and check out the books, maybe you can come up with better ideas for the descriptions anything that helps is welcomed.

My 300th Post! 300 Interesting Things about The Moose

To celebrate my 300th post on this blog I thought I would do something different and post 300 things about me for you all! Don’t say I never treat you all!

300 posts eh? it means I either talk a lot of sense or a lot of shit but who would have thought I would be here for #300!

So here we go! are you sitting comfortably? good then I will begin

  1. Despite people’s assumptions my middle name is not “Danger” but John
  2. I have 2 half sisters younger than my son!
  3. I have worn glasses since I was 8 or 9
  4. My vision is -6 -7  (20/20 is top)
  5. I’m 5ft 8
  6. I am a terrible flirt BUT would never cheat on Sheryl who is my world
  7. The C word is my favourite swear world
  8. Women who use the C word turn me on
  9. I go for eyes and cheekbones in women not boobs or hair colour
  10. I have green eyes hidden behind my dusty glasses
  11. I have scar on my finger where I shut it in a door at senior school and picked the scab for weeks after
  12. I haven’t seen a dentist in 7 years
  13. I’m right handed but can eat pringles with both hands
  14. I missed 90% of my GSCE French classes and still got a B in my exams!
  15. I would love to learn Spanish or Italian
  16. My dream holiday would be to visit Mafia hot spots in New York
  17. I am a twin, my dad is a twin and my son was a twin (lost the other due to miscarriage)
  18. I was nicknamed Gazza after Paul Gascoigne
  19. when i go to MacDonald’s I order 2 big mac meals with no lettuce
  20. I have never drunk a cup of coffee in my life
  21. I have never eaten Indian food in my life
  22. Hob Nobs are my favourite biscuits
  23. I am a chocoholic
  24. I have a gambling addiction
  25. I swear far too much in real life!
  26. The only books I read are on the mafia
  27. I have 73 books on the mafia and 25 on my kindle
  28. I don’t like beer
  29. I drink Jack Daniels
  30. My first celebrity crush was Susannah Hoff from the Bangles
  31. I have been dumped more times than I care to remember
  32. I lost my virginity at 17 1/2
  33. The first girl I slept with her surname was White – the 2nd had the surname Brown – had no more colours since
  34. My favourite movie is The Godfather
  35. My favourite TV show is The Soprano’s
  36. I would leave my wife for either Cheryl Cole or Mila Kunis 😀
  37. I was diagnoses with “High Intensity Depression” on 28th March 2012
  38. It took me 5 years to admit I had depression and do something about it
  39. I used to have a twitch of my nose and was called “bunny” behind my back for years  😦
  40. I have a degree in sarcasm
  41. As a twin who wore glasses I was called The Proclaimers for years
  42. or we were called The Krays
  43. I started smoking at 10!
  44. I have 7 tattoos
  45. I have my lip and eyebrow pierced and 2 ear rings
  46. I chipped my front teeth attempting to drink 2 bottles of bud at the same time!
  47. I have applied for over 1200 jobs since being unemployed in 2010 and only been offered 2 jobs!
  48. I have been with 5 companies that have gone out of business (me jinx? never!)
  49. I would love to go on Big Brother (no idea why!)
  50. My bark is much much worse than my bite – I’m a shouter 😀
  51. I once confused Tessa Sanderson (British Javelin Thrower) with a white person asking “I thought you was black!” i was about 10 in my defence
  52. I like to watch cartoons when no one is in the flat!
  53. Lee Evans is my favourite comedian – I have seen him live twice
  54. I grew up loving Rod Stewart!
  55. My favourite music is RnB
  56. I have zero confidence is my ability as a blogger/writer
  57. The moose name came from my mafia wars character where I was known as Paulie the Moose for 3 1/2 years and its followed me since.

300. I cannot count


So there you have it some snippets of information about the moose – there are of course more things about me but you need to browse through some of my older posts to learn them.

I also need to hold some things back to keep you wanting more!

300 posts is a big achievement for me, I cant believe I have done so many. Hopefully there are more good than bad posts and you still enjoy my random musings/words of wisdom!

In June when I started this I would never has imagined nearly 35 thousand people viewing my blog let alone writing 300 posts! Thank you for your support and messages they mean the world to me!