My Mess
When I was 10, I remember feeling flat, day-after-day, week-after-week… months. I don’t remember when it started, I just remember wishing I didn’t feel that way, envious of the freedom my siblings seemingly had. I didn’t want to go to school, I stressed about the burden I put on Mum, gifts didn’t make me excited like they once did. While my friends and family seemed to go through life effortlessly, life was a grind; in that season life felt heavy and depressing. I hated feeling depressed.
When I turned 16 I was called over the school PA system and told that my older brother had just had a brain haemorrhage and was placed in an induced coma. It was touch and go whether he would see it through that night. He had brain surgery, survived, came out of his coma, learnt to walk, talk and do the simplest of things again. He was making slow progress, then 6 months later I was called over the school PA again. He’d had another seizure. He was never to drive or work again. It hit me for 6. I hated feeling anxious.
When I had my son at 32 years of age, things went smooth, until day 7. He got sick, got tests, got more tests. He was diagnosed with aortic stenosis, a lifelong chronic heart disease putting him into emergency open-heart surgery at 3 weeks of age. We were told he should live. I said my goodbyes, just in case he shouldn’t live. He came out of it, then 6 months later declined and went back in for more heart surgery. I hated feeling stressed.
By the time I was 36, I was riddled with mental health challenges. I’m not convinced people in my corner could tell, I was an expert at hiding it. I was off the charts when the doctor tested my DAS levels (depression, anxiety, stress). Although never officially diagnosed, I suspect I had a good dose of PTSD, coupled with the general anxiety I’d built up over my lifetime. To deal with this I ran trails. It was good for the mind, good for the soul, just me, myself and my runners. Until…
I had elective surgery at 37. It didn’t go well. My recovery was painfully slow, intense - I was in a bad way physically and mentally. I quite literally went from running half marathons to struggling to walk for 10 minutes. I had a young family and I didn’t give them my best. Doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, on and off medication, surgery, pain psychology, physio - I tried everything for years. The physical and mental pain was overwhelming… I’m not sure which was worse. In those early days, I was all over the joint. Life was a daily struggle. The simplest of things were a big deal and I avoided pretty much everything. At one stage I vividly remember thinking, if I’m to continue on this same trajectory in life, I’m in deep trouble.
And then there’re other episodes of pain dotted across my life. It hasn’t necessarily been my pain, but other people’s pain that has impacted me tremendously. The student I taught that I made a great connection with. He suffered tremendous challenges which ended in the passing of his life before even completing his education. My close mate from high school lost his baby. The passing of a mate who invested loads of time in my teens, one night dying in a motor-bike accident. Life is full of pain for us all. And that pain creeps into our thinking… it changes our minds… quite literally.
I’m an advocate for mental health because poor mental health is hideous, it saps enjoyment out of life and is incredibly overwhelming, scary and lonely. You can physically be in the best place in the world, but because of your mind, you’re in the worst. Life’s been good to me, but like most others, I’ve also experienced the rawness of pain.
I’m thankful to the countless people in my life that helped me navigate the rubbish times, the world is full of good people. I’ve read countless books, visited websites, listened to podcasts, constantly taken notes as I’ve discovered helpful concepts throughout my journey. I saw multiple psychologists and pretty much threw myself into learning everything I could about mental health so that my mind worked for me rather than against me. I’m here to advocate that if you’re willing to do the work, you can change.
I am not a psychologist, psychiatrist, councillor or mental health expert, but I am luck enough to be able to collaborate with professionals who are. As for me, I’m a survivor & a teacher. I see the needs and believe we have solutions, and it’s my aim to be the link between the two - to connect the needs and solutions together; to give mental health context through relatable stories. To source and visually represent concepts and processes experts have developed and make these easy to digest. To be a stepping stone that gets you from the way you are to where you need to be.
Juz