Brothers in arms; “Why we need to talk, listen and act.”

“Something that had been playing on my mind leading up to the World Cup was the fact that I would have to share a room with one of my team-mates. They were all good guys but I was paranoid that my insomnia and panic attacks would really piss off whoever ended up as my room-mate. How relieved I was then, purely by alphabetical order one of the soundest guys on the tour, Gary Brown, ended up in my room. He was the joker of the squad and incredibly laid back and decent so it comforted me slightly. Luckily Gary was a reliable sleeper but I remember holding pillows over my mouth so he couldn’t hear me choking for air each night”

Bressie’s story

The following passage is from pages 68-69 from my book ‘Me and My Mate Jeffrey,‘ where I described my experiences during the Under 21 Rugby World Cup in Australia. A period of my life where I should have embraced these incredible unique opportunities, but I was so swallowed by anxiety and panic that I was simply in survival mode. I was terrified anyone would find out, or witness my panic attacks and this was magnified by the fact I had to share a room with the same guy for three weeks, Gary.

Almost 15 years later, I found myself sitting in a café in Dublin City centre having a catch up and chat with Gary. We had stayed in touch sporadically and over Facebook, but I hadn’t seen him face to face in quite some time. As we got chatting I knew there was something more pressing on his mind. After a few minutes he began to speak to me about his struggle with his own mental health and how for years, due to his profession as a professional rugby player, he was acting, having to place a figurative mask on when he went training or played matches.  A feeling I knew far too much about, frighteningly relatable. I’ll be honest, it felt quite comforting talking to someone else who had endured the same struggle as I did, someone who could connect to the very thoughts of our shared past.

Little did I know, back then in 2001 in that stuffy prison like hotel room in Sydney, while I gasped for air each night, counting the seconds for daylight to come, Gary was having his own inner dialogue and struggle just three feet away from me in the other bed, trying to disguise his own demons. How different would it have been if we were able to support each other through that World Cup? Perhaps we may have been able to embrace this amazing experience rather than just endure it.

I asked Gary to write his story. This was after he explained how he wants to now help any other young men that may be silently struggling, trying to act their way through life. He wants to explore how we can address some of the ignored issues in our ‘old job’, professional rugby. Rugby is an iconic and much loved sport in this country. We perceive our athletes as pillars of toughness and strength but the reality is they are all human (even though that’s hard to believe sometimes with size of some of those lads). They are all open to their own struggles, sometimes even more exposed as they try to live up to a stereotype while under weekly pressure to perform and remain fit and free of injury.

This is also evident in every other sport and it’s time that we accepted the reality that athletes, although physically fit, sometimes have vulnerabilities and it’s important they are allowed accept and deal with them without judgment or labelling. The “he doesn’t have the head for it” or “they are too soft” etc… The reality is quite the opposite. The hardest, strongest, most resilient and talented athletes and people I know are the toughest because of the fact they often have had to face highly pressurised and chaotic environments and perform, while at times struggling with their minds.

Now that’s the definition of resilience, that’s toughness.

Gary’s story

Mental Health. A wild term. Open the umbrella please. This is my experience and my thoughts on it all. It’s a journey I can look back on and smile at.

I’m bloody always late when I have to drive into town in rush hour, literally no matter what time I leave. I walk into the Café, a 5 metre walk from Brezzie’s gaf, very lazy for an ‘Ironman’.

It’s been probably 5-6 years since Brezzie and I have sat down for a chat, however we’ve always kept in touch, he’s fully aware of what I’m passionate about and vice versa, he’s fully aware mental health resonates with me, but why exactly we’ve never really gotten around to.

I’ve a lot of respect for him. He’s a really good lad with a big heart, good craic, but most importantly man enough to stand up for what he believes in, and there’s no exceptions, what you see is what you get. But mostly because he’s asked himself those courageous questions, who am I, what do I want to stand for….and he’s found the answer. The talk of collaboration seems right. Sure we’ve played rugby together, we’ve gone to college together, we’ve more to do..

It’s scary, society, that mob mentality, ironic term, how is the mob’s mental health these days I wonder? it can determine so quickly the choices we make and the opinions we create. Stigmas can be created over night and suddenly everyone’s panicking to form an opinion cause their an adult and they are supposed to right?

The problem I see with mental health is no one seems to have a clue where to draw the line. Are mental health and emotional health the same thing or different, are we getting them mixed up?

The biggest question for me….what is “normal” mental health?

When I first heard of the term “Mental Health”  I imagined loneliness, depression, darkness, death, suicide, bipolarism, schizophrenia.

But what about anxiety, insecurity, doubt, panic, disbelief. They are all natural emotions. Are they categorised under emotional health or mental health? Either way, the problem is when they become a daily feeling then an hourly feeling, then THE feeling and suddenly anything is triggering it without knowing why or asking why. Your thinking about your feelings, now we have crossover.

My first experience with anxiety dates back to when I was a nipper around 13 years of age. I was wide awake, butterflies everywhere, breathing strangely fast. I woke my Mother, at the time a single Mother of two, the last thing she needed was her son wrecking her head.

I couldn’t understand it and neither could she. I presumed it was because I had school exams coming up(I was a bit of a nerd) but it became a regular thing. I didn’t want to plague her with it, it never got any worse just more frequent so I presumed it was just me. So I buried it inside me.

I never told a soul. I would be in a crowded room with everyone I know and be crippled by the environment. But that was just who I was right? It would come and go as it pleased. There could be months I’d be happy out and think it’s gone but it always came back to say hello and check in. What’s strange is I have the happiest memories of my life. The anxiety was just a normal thing for me.

Playing rugby magnified the anxiety to a greater intensity. I dreaded it most days, but only because it brought it on. The thoughts of fucking up and the lads thinking I’m shite and the coach thinking I’m a muppet, complete catastrophe in my head. If I learned anything about true character it was passive from who I was surrounded by. That’s the greatest thing rugby gave me, the lads I met, who welcomed me in school, for club and country of any age.

“Maybe I should tell one of the lads? nah they’ll think I’m bonkers!!”

Wondering what other people think is the most contagious, rampant, poisonous form of ego out there in my experience. I believe the fear of judgement is created by the volume of judging we do of ourselves and others.

Ask yourself how many times a day you think what others will think of your actions….oh hello ego, welcome to the party.

They say life can be cruel. For me it’s been anything but. I’ve been given everything I’ve ever wanted, achieved everything in life I wanted to this present day. I could never ask for more. But why was I waking up for years and years with these weird butterflies and then going to bed with butterflies haunted by the wonder of what other people thought of me. Was I Butterfly Boy?…what’s my super power then?…nerves like a butterfly that sting like a bee.

What it became was me acting a fictional character in a real world. Constantly exhausted from acting. The intensity of the anxiety lead to reactive passive aggression, stubbornness, confusion, jealousy, arrogance, and an undying desire to never be rejected. It wasn’t me. I knew it wasn’t the guy I wanted to be and truly was, and so did those closest to me. Those closest to me listened. Talk about top mates and a top sister, I’ve the best in the business, of all ages, but I’m bias of course!

So just like going to the doc for an ear ache, I went to a doc with a feeling ache.

Enter Babs! Babs is the bomb! She is a Psychotherapist/counsellor/shrink, whatever term doesn’t scare the shit out of you.

When I first heard of Babs, I was reluctant but unexpectedly I was really ready for a chat. We’d meet regularly. We’d sit back and try to understand what was triggering these unwanted feelings. There was no drama. It was not always easy. However I’d just leave with this weight lifted off my shoulders and a stupid grin on my face. She helped me figure out who I am and not who I thought I was and from these insights I took action. She helped me understand that somewhere along the timeline I began to identify with my ego and not my real self. Basically I identified with a figment of my imagination. But surely I can’t be the only one, surely this is “normal” enough stuff?

With our medical health we have heart rate norms, blood cholesterol norms. Financially we have numerous norms. Physically we are under or over weight, weak or strong, there are norms.

But where’s the mental health norms? How can we recognise whether or not we are living fulfilled lives?

Does a father who has just lost his job have normative values? what about a person in a job or a relationship that their heart isn’t in, have they normative mental health values? What about a single mother or father, a student doing final exams, a person dealing with the loss of a sibling or parent or friend? What about a couple who can’t have children? What about a person who wants to give up the booze and lives in Ireland?

“In fairness she’s got serious issues”…”why, have her “issues” been measured?”

I don’t know how many people I hear everyday tell me they’re stressed. What does stress feel like to you, is it anxiety, frustration, anger, nerves, and do theses feelings affect your thinking. If they do then is stress a mental health issue? What happens in our bodies?

Why are our bodies storing fat, why do our spines and joints begin to hurt, why are we getting auto immune diseases?

Rewind 14 years. Myself and Brezzie are roommates for the Irish U21 rugby team in Australia. Little did we know either of us felt the way we did. Sitting there trying to get Brezzie to learn The Prodigy on the guitar, I thought it was impossible but of course he eventually nailed it. I guess talent is there, scared or not. But both of us not feeling normal and no one was going to own up. Why didn’t we say anything?

On the same team was a guy by the name of Conrad O’Sullivan. For those who were lucky enough to meet Conrad, know, he was the heart and soul of every chat, every joke. He was that guy that girls and lads just loved to be around. But maybe he wasn’t part of every chat. Conrad took his own life a couple of years later. Needless to say no one saw it coming. So I guess there were 3 in Oz who were saying nothing, were there more? I can’t bear to imagine what it must be like to be depressed or suicidal, it must be the loneliest place in the world and we’ve lost so many to it. Was it our fault, no, but if it continues is it our fault?

I still wonder what would have happened if Brezzie, Conrad and I sat down for a coffee and one of us just had the balls to say something, to share. I don’t regret it, cause we knew no better at the time. We didn’t know how to really discuss our concerns. The “norms”. And we still don’t know them.

Those before us our wiser and have learned more lessons, those behind us inspire us to teach them lessons we’ve learned. It’s a win win.  We have a responsibility to take charge. To do our part. To listen. To protect. To find the norms. It’s going on whether we think it’s bonkers or not. I don’t want to allow my nephews grow up in a world where they can’t tell me exactly how they feel on any given day, anywhere.

If this is too deep for some, then try get used to treading water cause you never know when a friend is going to come knock at your door with an umbrella over their head. Try relax and listen, you don’t have to even speak, it’s completely normal human behaviour.

I don’t think anyone can be an expert in “mental health” unless it’s medical, and we don’t have to be either.

I just figured it out. But without the chat with mates and Babs I may have wandered lost never figuring it out. I’ve thrown my umbrella away, and my door is open…to anyone.

I’m a happy person because I know who I am, and what matters to me. Everything else is noise. Everything else is ego.

Anxiety is now something I appreciate and respect, it’s just a normal feeling to me now like every other. I guess I’ve a good idea of my mental health norms for the stage I’m at in my life.

So was my journey one of emotional health, mental health or both? Who cares, what matters is that I am truly happy because of the chat and what I learned.

“We are the people who rule the world, a force in every boy and girl, all rejoicing in the world, take me now we can try”