Don't ignore a fragile state of mind
There are times in our lives when problems seem insurmountable and we need to ask for help, writes Florence Horsman-Hogan
Sunday March 21 2010
'Problems are hard to solve, if you've got problems take the first step -- and talk to someone.'
When that ad for a mental health helpline came on the television, I was lying on the couch with my 11-year-old daughter. "Yeah right, like you're going to talk to some bloody stranger when you've got problems! Like, I mean, come on now, who'd ever admit to mental illness -- definitely not me, pal."
Then I remembered two things. One: there was a time about 20 years ago when I never, ever discussed my emotional problems with anyone, not even my beloved husband.
Two: I was in psychiatric care about 20 years ago. Why? Most likely because of one.
I've always been afraid of mental illness. Having grown up with a mother who was a chronic schizophrenic, I had it in the very marrow of my bones. I saw how other people treated her, and, as her child, how they treated me. I knew the repercussions long before I ever understood what mental illness was.
But I also knew my mam, and she was a wonderfully chaotic person. Other people laughed and jeered at her -- but she was far more 'a lady' than most of them would ever be. Without going into the ins and the outs of the whole story, I grew up to become a nurse. My chosen path had many pitfalls. I didn't have the emotional stability behind me to buffer me against any adversity. I had the will, but not the way. Working in the healthcare system in the Eighties was fraught with work-ethic potholes.
I continued to work in this system and at the same time met and married the love of my life. We had baby number one, a lively, energetic little redhead and life got a bit more difficult. Then came baby number two, a sweet placid little thing. He only cried when he was hungry. Which was every three hours. That's when it all went pear-shaped.
I went back to work -- with my usual personality and conscience conflicts. It all became too much. Was I such a bad person that I couldn't do my job like everyone else seemed to feel I should? Was I such a bad mother that I couldn't relax with my two-and-a-half-year- old trying to climb on my lap as I fed my six month old? Was there no one out there that I could talk to?
The hurdles became insurmountable. I totally changed; from being a fighter, I became the defeated. I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. And if I got out of bed, I didn't want to get dressed. And if I got dressed, I didn't want to go downstairs. And if I went downstairs, I didn't want to meet or talk to anyone. And if I met anyone and they were talking, I couldn't have cared less about what they were saying. Life became meaningless. In the morass of baby feeding and toddler sneezing and people freezing, I got totally lost.
Then a wonderful public health nurse came to my rescue. She knocked on our front door and getting no answer, came to the back door where she could see me sitting on the kitchen floor, crying. No one -- and I mean no one -- had ever been allowed see me cry. With her help, I was then able to accept that I was literally on my knees. With no other option in sight, I allowed her to get me evaluated. The diagnosis? Post-natal depression. I agreed to go into St John of Gods, our local psychiatric hospital, for a rest.
The feeling of being in there was indescribable. For a long time, I couldn't even look out the windows without panicking. Even leaving the ward and risking meeting visiting 'outsiders' was way beyond my ability. Slowly but surely, I got better.
For many people, post-natal depression isn't a psychiatric illness. But having gone through it, it's given me an insight into what people who get depression go through.
I've learned the hard way that mental health is fragile. It might be 20 years ago now for me, but I still guard myself very carefully. I've learned to not allow anything stressful to enter my life. I filter everything and if I see any sign of danger in any area whatsoever, I shout 'help' or I pull the stop cord. I've learned to adopt a very positive attitude to everything. All problems are manageable -- and if they're not, find someone or something that'll make it so.
Go to yourmentalhealth.ie if you feel you need support.
Originally published in
