Meet my son, he is 14 now. This is one of my favourite photographs. He doesn’t laugh much anymore. The darkness began to set in about 3 years ago, I smiled with friends as we talked about those challenging tween/teen years.
During the pandemic he deteriorated, looking back it is easy to see, while happening it was easier to miss as everyone juggled the impacts of lockdown. His sleep became erratic and when it came was interrupted, his appetite was gone and he was unresponsive and distant. He became quieter and quieter and broke down in March telling me that he didn’t want to live. The gift of having children was not to be mine until my 40th year and I was overjoyed to welcome him and then 2 years later his brother. His words will haunt me forever.
Our doctor listened patiently as my son answered all his questions. Finally he said “Kay, my opinion is that he is suffering with severe depression but I can’t help him as he is under 16.” He wrote an urgent referral. This conversation happened on a Sunday. On Tuesday I chased the referral, “We are processing Fridays’s referrals, you will hear soon”. The call came on Thursday, an hour answering questions, deeply confronting questions. An appointment was set, the earliest one, 10 weeks away, it was hard to tell him. We agreed to be hopeful.
We lived in a state of hyper alert. We slept when he slept, plating up
meals to be heated later. I became good at compartmentalising while I worked and I gave thanks for the circumstances that meant I was able to work from home.
The appointment arrived, tele-health as by now Melbourne was back in lockdown. So much hope rested on this appointment, the two health professionals will never know the weight of expectation that we were projecting on them through the screen.
At the end of the session they confirmed his depression, advising that they could not take him as a case as there was a 7 month long waiting list and we were advised to return to our doctor for referrals to other mental health professionals. I heard a sob next to me, my son had tears rolling down his face and in that moment I realised that I, too, was crying.
Everyone is doing their best but the system is cracking beneath the strain. Our story is not unique.
We are working hard to keep things as normal as possible but our home remains in a state of hyper alert, we have brutally honest and confronting conversations everyday. For the moment his immediate family and close friends are his mental health team but it is neither predictable nor easy to navigate.
To support mental health we have to talk about mental health. Everyday. We have to notice changes and talk about them. We have to normalise discussion about mental health. People do recover but they don’t recover alone.
How many people are in your ripple; family, friends, colleagues? More and more you will have the chance to be part of someone else’s mental health team. Are you ready? Are you willing?
What is your ripple? 🌻
#mentalhealth