Four years ago, I faced the tragedy facing so many families in Ireland today, when suicide came to our front door. My sister and uncle received a text in the middle of the night where you immediately know life will be irrevocably changed forever, from our 21 year old brother Eamonn saying simply “sorry”. We later found out that he had jumped off a bridge in my hometown. Thus began a daily surreal ritual where myself and my sister and extended family, friends and local community spent long hours each day walking dazed along the river searching for him, until his remains were eventually found over 4 months later in an isolated coastal beach in Donegal.
Whilst searching for his body, I simultaneously began a process of soul searching, something which every single family member endures in the aftermath of any suicide, with questions repeatedly playing in my head. But one question in particular replayed over and over again-why didn’t he just ask for help?
As the days and weeks then turned into months, the searching became increasingly unbearable. As someone who has never been one for confiding much in friends or reaching out for support, after many days determinedly plucking up the courage, I finally went to the doctors to seek some counselling to get me through this increasingly difficult time. Instead of the nurturing I came seeking, in response to my plea for help, I was told matter-of-factly there was no possibility of any appointment in the near future, as there was a minimum of a six month waiting list- unless of course, I was suicidal myself. Thus, I was sent on my way with some heavy sleeping tablets and a supply of anti-depressants. I had asked for neither.
Even in the distressed state I was in, I knew this was all wrong, at a very deep level. At my time of greatest need, what I needed was to talk, not be forcibly ‘drugged up’ to numb the pain I was experiencing. I threw all the tablets in the bin and decided in the absence of any professional support, that I would have to take matters into my own hands and somehow get through this on my own, by focusing on my body and mind. I forced myself to concentrate with a set routine for the walking searches, eating healthy and running long distances daily, and was luckily comforted every minute of the day by extended family. I somehow managed to get through it, and come out the other side intact.
However, the interaction with the health services was something I just couldn’t think about, as I felt such shame from the whole episode. This was the first time in my life, that I had reached out to ask for help, and I had been resoundingly rejected. It immediately put me off ever reaching out again- even to this day, if I had a similar issue, it wouldn’t cross my mind to ask for professional help, such was the impact of this negative experience. I determined afterwards never to think about it again and put it to the back of my mind. Of course, the painful things we try to avoid have a terrible habit of rearing their ugly heads, despite our best efforts to run away from them.
Fast forward four years later, in my current role, I now work supporting at-risk young people, in a youth organisation, Future Voices. Like me, the shame I felt in seeking help is unfortunately being felt by these brave teenagers, that I support. In the majority of cases where they have courageously reached out desperately seeking help, they have had identical experiences to mine, sent home with a supply of unwanted ‘drugs’ and put on 1 or even 2 year waiting lists. Those who are experiencing acute issues have had even more inhumane and undignified experiences-one of the teenagers that I work with, was left on a trolley in an A&E department for more than 19 hours following a suicide attempt. At his time of greatest need, he was made to feel embarrassed that he had done the right thing, in coming forward for help.
Often I think back to my brother, and the question which tormented me, why didn’t he just ask for help? In considering the state of mental health services, both North and South of the border, it now saddens me even more, that if he had miraculously plucked up the courage and asked for help prior to his death, that he would most probably have been met with the same rejection, that myself and the teenagers I work with experience.
But more than sad it makes me angry. The message in relation to mental health, is always to ask for help, and take that important step of reaching out. As someone supporting these young people, what am I supposed to tell them now? Many others like me, working in youth support services, or indeed parents and friends of those experiencing mental health issues, are equally frustrated and feel completely helpless knowing there is absolutely nothing we can do to ‘fix it’ and get the appropriate help we need, for those whom we care for.
Something is deeply broken in this system, and in our society, which allows this to continue. In rejecting our young people seeking help with indifference and a lack of urgency, we are saying we don’t value them and that they are not equal. We are clearly saying that we don’t treat their illness in the same way as a cancer patient, where treatment must commence within set maximum time periods. Ultimately, we are playing life or death with their young lives, because if someone has a bad first experience in seeking mental health support- do we really think that they will come back the next time, for a repeat performance?
On behalf of our young people seeking help, is anybody listening?
If you or someone you love is feeling suicidal please contact:
- Feeling suicidal? – samaritans.org
- Pieta House: Suicide and Self Harm Crisis Centre – pieta.ie
- Suicide is not the way – suicideorsurvive.ie
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