A word

The cost of mental ill health in England is now £105.2 billion a year, according to an update published last year by Centre for Mental Health. The figure includes the costs of health and social care for people with mental health problems, lost output in the economy, for example from sickness absence and unemployment, and the human costs of reduced quality of life.

Oh my goodness. Really? Just think what good we could do with all those extra pennies if only we could find a way to resolve many of those problems. And I say that with the utmost respect, and as someone who's teetered on the edge too many times to deny the possibility of any of us tipping over.

Undeniably, there are those among us who will always need help, whose problems are treatable only by the medical profession and alleviated only by specialist carers. But compare our nation to one of those in the so-called Third World and would the percentages stack up? I doubt it; people in those countries are too busy fighting for their lives - some literally, some with sheer, old-fashioned physical labour - to even glance inwardly, never mind dwell on their angst.

So who's better off? We with our love of fast - even instant - everything, we who cram weeks into a single day and still feel we haven't achieved as much as we ought to have? Or the struggling masses whose days are busy but paced, whose work day ends with the sunset giving them time to relax and socialise and breathe breathe breathe? They may have "nothing" - in our world, a home devoid of at least seven different electronic devices amounts to underprivileged - but do they suffer from stress? Are eating disorders and alcohol abuse a problem in these societies? Are their children carrying the weight of the world on shoulders already overwhelmed with peer, teacher and parental pressures?

Now, I'm obviously not going to present the solution to the First World's ills right here in this little blog. But I am going to encourage to spread maybe just a little word here and there, where appropriate. And that word is: exercise. Yes, yes, I know chocolate makes you feel just as good, but it ain't a long term solution (and I've tried, believe me). And I'm not advocating marathoning, either - a stroll around the neighbourhood, dancing with the kids in the living room, gentle stretching or yoga, vigorous vacuuming or even a good old belly laugh will put the kybosh on any latent stirrings of depression.

I don't know if it's the endorphins or just the additional oxygen from all that breathing, but it works, in the short- and long-term. You might not feel like it in the dead of winter, but trust me on this. And if you and I can get moving, perhaps we can inspire those around us to, and they can inspire others, and pretty soon we might just have a nation of fit, depression-poor citizens who are enjoying all the benefits lavished on them by a government with £100+ billion to spare.