From survivor to Saviour

| Pete Fallan at High Beach, Epping Forest.

by Dinara Murzalina

Pete Fallan, 47, has been fighting anxiety since 1999. “It took me many years to realise what it really was”, he says.

It all began when he lost sleep. Both literally and figuratively.

Having degrees in teaching and geography, Pete was working at a secondary school at that time. The head teacher made it clear he didn’t like him: Pete had long hair and piercing, he wore a denim jacket instead of a suit. Actually, so he does now. The only difference is that he has dyed his hair blonde and gotten tattoos on his forearms and chest.

Working hard and being in a constant fear of losing his job, Pete Fallan started to get first signs of anxiety. “They call it ‘burnout,” he says. “When you’re twenty-nine it seems like the world is going to an end if you’re fired.”

It was the first time when he went to a specialist. The doctor put him on a drug which Pete didn’t know, was antidepressant. However, he was only at the beginning of the painful road. A long time passed before Pete realised it was not just a chronic stress.

The man in front of me smiles and shakes his head: “I thought mental health was about being crazy, being mad.” Despite Pete's resistance to admitting he is sick, he gave up teaching eventually and found himself at a new place - the"In-Volve"charity project dealing with drug-addicted young people, which now is “sadly defunct”.

Working with the teenagers who were desperate and lost, he concluded he has nothing in common with those who had “real mental health problems”…until one day his manager asked him if he ever thought about being analysed. This question made Pete reconsider the whole concept of mental health.

“I was working fast and manic, while everyone was so chill,” the man says, adding that the manager’s words offended him first. Anyway, he decided to seek medical help. After eight years of not realising what was happening to him, he has finally been diagnosed. It all suddenly began to make sense after getting a "real name".

However, it did not go smooth. Pete has taken several different types of medication over the last 17 years. One of the antidepressants prescribed by a specialist caused him to experience depression in 2014. Sometimes, as he states, side effects are “too much”, sometimes it can go completely wrong.

Trying to escape his debilitating state, Pete took two weeks off to go to Madrid with his wife. This holiday became the lowest point of his depression. “I remember staying in a hotel room all weekend watching MTV," he says. "I just couldn't sleep, I couldn't face going out. My wife went to the galleries and museums. I just stayed in, watching Britney Spears' videos.”

That was the time when he got a tattoo on his collar. Soy Fuerte, Spanish for “I’m strong”, is a tattoo Pete now demonstrates to some of the patients as an evidence of overcoming his fears. “The only thing I could think of was tattooing 'what a fucking loser' with big letters, but then I thought: how can I call myself a loser after coming through all this?”

"I knew what it was like to be sick. I also knew what it's like to take the medication and experience the side effects of medication."

In 2015, Pete's psychiatrist decided to put him back in a workplace. It was hard after not being working for such a long time - he left his previous job at the charity in 2002.

The NHS allowed him and other service users to find themselves in helping others. This is how Pete ended up as a social therapist with East London Foundation Trust.

Without any medical education, he still considers himself qualified – just different kind of qualified. Pete's “authentic” experience meant that as a social therapists he was capable of not just talking to people, but also advising them. “I knew what it was like to be sick. I also knew what it's like to take the medication and experience the side effects of medication,” the therapist tells.

Therapy process is a lot different to what most people would expect it to be. The ex and the current patient meet for a cup of tea, they have a chat. No clinical information. No professional terminology. It doesn’t have to be about an illness, can be just a small talk about TV shows, children or plans for the weekend. Basic human-to-human conversation.

“I’m a huge fan of this form of therapy,” Pete says, “because you don't need a qualification to do that”. For him, human contact is the key. Most people, he believes, can not open up to their family members or close friends being afraid to hurt their feelings.

| Pete's tattoo on his right underarm, showing the Bulgarian word for 'inspire'.

Job at NHS is not the only interest of Pete. He has always identified himself as AN ‘artsy’ kind of person, This is where the meaning behind the other two tattoos comes from. Another Spanish writing is on his left forearm: Creativad. It means “creative”, of course. Вдъхновяват, Bulgarian word for “inspire” can be seen from under the right sleeve of his jacket.

Inspiration and artistic energy, he says, played a massive role in his recovery. This is how he discovered a passion for photography.

| Pete Fallan at LIGHT Photography Workshop, Brick Lane.

Even though Pete can make £750 over one weekend of working as a photographer while only earns £50 a week at the medical centre, he doesn’t call it his main job. While enjoying the creative process, Pete also likes sharing his works on social media.

He compares likes and reposts he gets on Instagram to stickers teachers would give a child for a nice picture at a primary school. Photography appears to be more of a way to boost his self-esteem.

Confidence is not the only thing Pete managed to rebuild over the years of dealing with issues. “I've gotten incredibly wise, I've learnt a lot even though it was a horrible way to learn. I'm still learning, becoming knowledgeable about life as a human,” he says. It sounds especially promising after knowing Pete is going back to a college to get another degree. This time – in psychology.

HOME