Content Warning: In this article, Lisa describes a period in her life where she felt suicidal, and attempted suicide, in detail.
In my profession as an Early Childhood Teacher, one of the many things we explore with children is that stories have a beginning, a middle and an end. As I don’t yet have an end to my story, I don’t feel like I have a story to tell but instead, I would like to share my journey thus far. It is a continuous journey that is shaping me into an ever-evolving version of myself. A journey that reminds me that I am stronger than I ever believed I could be. I have just turned thirty – and for fourteen of those years I have lived with clinical depression. Although it wasn’t until a few months ago, in October 2017, that I was diagnosed following one particular day. Sunday 8th October 2017 was the day my life, or what I believed was an excuse of a life, needed to end.
Lying on the floor of the bedroom in the foetal position, convulsing with emotions that had finally consumed me, drowning in my own tears, I knew I was going to attempt to end my life. It was the only option I could see. I needed to stop the everyday pain both physically and mentally. I was exhausted from battling with myself as to why I was even on this earth in the first place. I had called my sister and Mum back in Ireland, no doubt rambling incoherently about how it all had to stop. I guess being 10,777 miles away in Australia didn’t make it any easier. I promised them both I wouldn’t do anything “silly”. I lied of course, by reassuring them through the tears and gasps for breaths that I wouldn’t, and I was going to bed. But reaching for a concoction of medication I had to hand, I didn’t feel like it was a silly action. It was how it was going to end and that was that.
Now why did I have a lot of prescription medication to hand? No, I’m not an addict, although years of prescribed medication mean it possibly was a crutch for me many times in my teens and twenties. Since the age of fourteen, I have suffered from a lot of gastroenteritis conditions. While there was no definitive diagnosis, I regularly had medication to treat a suspected case of Crohn’s disease. The pain I experienced could be so bad that I would be on Endone regularly throughout the day or end up in the Emergency Department crippled in pain. There was a point when I was scripted for twelve tablets a day to ease different symptoms. This mystery illness, that has followed me for most my life, was also the trigger for my second suicide attempt (my first when I was 15, back in Ireland, is another story). After having a laparoscopy in Australia that was inconclusive, the realisation that I could be living with this mystery illness for the rest of my life was the tipping point.
I’m not sure why I rang Lifeline (the Australian number for suicide and depression) after I had taken a handfuls of pills. I think I was absolutely petrified about what I had done, guilt maybe, who knows. But the days that followed were the lowest in my life. I was brought to hospital by ambulance, where to be honest I don’t remember too much apart from being handed a sick bag and told I looked green; a black out for I don’t know how long; and then three days of uncontrollable crying. I was weak from crying. I couldn’t stop it, thinking about the overwhelming sadness I felt and how heavy it was bearing on my mind, my body, every fibre of my being. Maybe I was sad that I found myself at this point in my life, at the other side of the world or sad that I had let it get the better of me……finally. Maybe it was because most of my life, when faced with different challenges, I was ultimately able to put on a brave face, have a laugh, smile, converse, hold down a job and even achieve some of my career goals before I had planned. Finally though, the mask was too unbearable to hold anymore. I had no strength left to pretend.
I can’t say that I still don’t have thoughts about not being here, of course I do – they don’t just disappear overnight. I mean I’ve had this clinical depression for almost half my life. I have however taken the steps to acknowledge my diagnosis. Every day I get stronger, even if at the time I don’t see it, I am learning new lessons. I’m taking the time to breathe. I am owning my struggle, not just for myself but for those around me too. The time has come to stop ignoring the warning signs and take ownership of my emotions.
I believe I am lucky to have the opportunity to influence and model positive mental health with children of a young age. Even though inside I was struggling, I was still making an impact through love, care and education every day. By turning up to work, I provided a safe place for children to be themselves as they discovered and learned about their world; giving them the time they deserve to tell me about their drawing; what they did at the weekend; their theories on the weather; or about the leaf they found in the garden. I can share those moments and I can make a difference to these children. As teenagers and adults, the pressures of life can take over and suddenly we lose sight of being in the moment.
I am an Early Childhood Teacher and one of my responsibilities is to educate and care for children from six weeks old to six years of age. I have gained and continue to gain different perspectives within my chosen career. Working in the corporate world of Sydney CBD, the hustle and bustle of the daily rat race can be a bit, well grey and black in itself – you just need to look around at the everyday corporate uniform of a suit! But yet, throughout my struggle I showed up and gave 110% for the children I cared for. In the Australian Early Years Learning Framework, which guides our practices daily and is based closely on the United Nations’ Convention on the Rights of the Child, the learning outcomes that are of high importance to me are that ‘children have a strong sense of well-being’ and ‘children are effective communicators.’ We use these outcomes to regularly inform families how we are supporting each child’s learning to build on these outcomes.
As adults, we are still too afraid to put our true voices out there and tell others of our feelings and emotions, but yet we teach and expect children to be kind to one another and to tell their peers how things make them feel. Is there some irony in this?
I have worked with many other professionals throughout my career and I can assure you that there are some fantastic, passionate and caring educators in the sector, sharing love and knowledge with the young minds of the 21st century. As fantastic as these people are, there is also an overwhelming majority of adults who are struggling with mental health issues, whether it is anxiety, depression or stress and are not comfortable talking about it or even admitting it to themselves. I was one of them. And I imagine it is the same across all sectors in today’s world.
Are we truly being advocates for children when we struggle daily to come to terms with our own sense of well-being or lack the ability to be effective communicators ourselves?
Over the past ten months, confronting the harsh reality of my own mental health issues has been both the hardest and best thing that has happened to me. I now realise that it isn’t a weakness to speak up, in fact it’s one of my strengths. I am now beginning to reclaim my life by taking ownership of my feelings. I know I am not able to change the cards I have been dealt but I can change the way I play my hand. Clinical depression, chronic illness and two suicide attempts do not and will not define me, but they have and will play a pivotal role in the next chapter of my journey.
Help information
If you need help please talk to friends, family, a GP, therapist or one of the free confidential helpline services. For a full list of national mental health services see yourmentalhealth.ie.
- Samaritans on their free confidential 24/7 helpline on 116-123, by emailing jo@samaritans.ie
- Pieta House National Suicide Helpline 1800 247 247 or email mary@pieta.ie – (suicide prevention, self-harm, bereavement) or text HELP to 51444 (standard message rates apply)
- Aware 1800 80 48 48 (depression, anxiety)
If living in Ireland you can find accredited therapists in your area here:
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