Living With Mental Health: A Personal Journey

As a young lad my dad always told me, "Boys don’t cry." My mum too, would also comfort me. "Come on now, Stephen, dry your eyes," she'd say. "You're a big boy now."

And so the seeds of silence are sewn. I grew up believing that a real man remained silent. I thought I had to keep my fears and anxieties (real or otherwise), to myself.

A life-changing diagnosis

Fast forward to 1999. I was 40 years old and working as a carpenter. I was married to my wife, Teresa, and we had two young children. Life was good, but I had been struggling physically. My bones were hurting lately, especially in the morning. My lower back and neck felt the worst.

I went to see a specialist at the hospital. After X-rays and blood tests, and my doctor tells me I have a disease. "Ankylosing spondylitis," she said. I had never heard of it. I couldn't even spell it.

The doctor said I could no longer work as a carpenter. I had to find work doing something else. She didn't tell me what, though. I didn't think I had any other skills.

Facing the dark thoughts

I headed for the nearest bench outside the hospital. I had to pull myself together before I went home. I sat and watch the people coming and going, but I didn't let them see the tears spilling out onto my cheeks. When I broke the news to Teresa, she pulled me to her and wrapped me in her embrace.

For the next 2 years, I struggled with the demons in my head. Deep down, I knew I wouldn't do anything drastic, but dark thoughts dogged me wherever I went. They often came flooding back in the dead of night.

I never asked anyone for help. I confided in Teresa, of course. There was no hiding from her because she knew me too well. She urged me to seek help. But I was afraid that if I said how I truly felt, the tears would start to flow and I'd be swept away.

Finding hope through learning

I discovered education and fell in love with learning. It felt like a door opened inside my head leading into a room I never knew existed. I began to read and write constantly. I wrote fiction, non-fiction, and even some dreadful poems.

The poems were dark and depressing. The fiction was light and good humoured (with just the occasional shadow). I slowly recovered and learned to be kind to myself. I forgave my mum and dad too. I realized they were only doing what every other parent was doing at that time.

The power of speaking out

Here is what I have learned through this journey. There is no shame in struggling with your mental health. Being stressed or anxious is no more shameful than if you had been diagnosed with an arthritic disease. And sometimes, what seems to be the worst possible thing to happen to you can be turned to your advantage.

After my diagnosis, I had the opportunity to not only get myself the education I’d never had, but to build a new way of life for myself and my family.

And here’s my advice to any one who sees themselves in my story: when you are hurting inside, seek help. Don’t delay. Speak out. Not one single male friend of mine had anything but kind things to say to me. They saw themselves in me. They understood.

Seek out professional help too, of you can. You owe it to your loved ones, to your friends, and above all, you owe it to yourself. You just have to take that first step.