In my 33 years of life I have sat in all the seats in the counselling room.
I have been a support person for my mum, a mental health social worker, and a client of services myself.
I first sat opposite my mother’s psychiatrist at age 15 trying to understand what was happening to her.
I then studied social work, and soon found myself falling into a mental health job straight out of university. An accidental career in mental health was formed, with my passion growing in the field in later years.
I have sat across from maybe hundreds of people, talking to them in hospitals, visiting them in their homes, and working with their families to try and work out what works for them.
And it’s a bloody hard job. The answers are hard to find.
I used to hide my family’s experience but now I see my mum’s illness as something that strengthens my practice. It gives me a deeper understanding of what families and people go through.
It’s made me proud of how strong my mum and my family are.
After eight years or so of frontline work and constantly dealing with darkness, I found myself suddenly feeling dizzily sick at work with chest pain. I ran out of the office, walked around the block, sat on a seat and felt like I was going to faint.
A deep-seated darkness settled in my stomach that day like something bad had happened and stayed there for many months.
I went to the doctor who told me that this could not be attributed to any kind of physical illness.
I was in fact suffering from anxiety.
I realised I had for years been burying myself with things that I thought I could ‘control’ in my life which lay outside the realms of my chaotic job. I would plan the future obsessively, train for endurance events, count every calorie and gram on the scales, and push myself onto the next thing without thinking or questioning if this is what I really wanted.
All these things can be good for us if they are done in a non-obsessive way and if they are actually enjoyed. I was doing these things to take a sense of control back into my life, because it always felt like I was drowning.
When we talk about ‘mental health’ the spectrum is so broad and describing what can help someone is hard because we are all made up of different chemistry, experience and culture.
People with different severities of illness will need different assistance at different times.
Those who have a psychotic illness might require help across a lot of areas of their lives. They might need help with housing, getting a job, maintaining relationships with their families and assistance managing medication.
As a mental health social worker my aim was always to give people the tools to take as much control or ownership over their choices and lives as possible.
There is no magic solution.
We can be going on with life and our mental health can deteriorate rapidly at a stressful time in our lives like having a baby, losing a job or relationship.
Some people bounce back, and some crumble.
We are all made up differently but kind of the same.
How things affect us is a result of our childhood development, our ability to cope, our surrounding support systems and physical environment and our brain chemistry.
Some people can respond well to medication. Others might not.
When we talk about ‘mental health day’ or ‘mental health week’, remember that this covers a wide range of experiences for people. The basket is huge and full of many sized eggs and colours.
I am one of the lucky ones that can afford and access healthcare, recognise the signs and seek help. For that I am grateful.
I once had a guy that told me I was too ‘scatty’ to be a social worker, because I kept forgetting his paperwork. I smiled at him and said he was probably right, because at this time of my life I indeed was scatty.
I was stressed out of my brain, sick with an autoimmune problem and trying to juggle a million things at once. I was doing so many things and none of them was I doing particularly well.
I have realised that it’s okay to fail sometimes and hit the ground. I am not superwoman.
So if you find yourself sitting on the other side of the room, spilling your guts out to someone with their name on the door and a bunch of qualifications, remember this: that person will have a story of their own.
We are not as different as we seem.
If you need help after reading this post please contact Lifeline on 131114.
You can get more information about the NSW Mental Health Association’s Mental Health Month here.
