Why Am I Doing This?
It’s a great question, and one I have pondered over for a while.
For those of you who know me, you will know there is a bit of history there. I’ve worked with young people experiencing mental health challenges for a while now, and there absolutely is not enough support or resourcing in this space.
There isn’t an enough psychoeducation for parents, who frequently still see mental health challenges as something requiring mental fortitude, something kids need to learn to think their way though. Best intentioned, well meaning parents, who absolutely want to support their young people to overcome obstacles, but who fundamentally do not have the tools to do so. Because they grew up that way, in the “buck up” generation. Because the tools are far too new.
Society doesn’t talk about this enough. The media don’t talk about this enough. We are getting better at quashing the rhetoric about suffering in silence, and the “ask for support” message is becoming normalised. But what does that support look like? What are families expected to DO when their young people do reach out? There are still too many silences in this space.
And this matters.
It matters because once a young person musters up the courage to ask for help, they often don’t get it. Instead, they might notice their families trying, failing to know what to do, experiencing pressure and frustration and setbacks, which increases their perception of burdensomeness, and ultimately increases their risk. Sometimes, this even means they stop help-seeking altogether, afraid to put pressure on the people they love.
I read somewhere that it takes an average of six help-seeking attempts for a person struggling with non-suicidal self injury or suicidal ideation to actually be heard and offered practical and helpful support. This is an old statistic, and which way it has moved keeps me up at night.
Those of you who know me also know I am in the LGBTIQ+ demographic. You might not know that I struggled with that too, as a child. You might not know that NSSI and SI is something I struggled with in high school, too. And I was blessed with a supportive family, supportive friends. My school noticed, and connected me with support. I’m one of the lucky ones in this.
You might not know that 1 in 7 teenagers identifying with a non-straight sexuality will attempt suicide in their youth.
For gender diverse young people, this jumps to 1 in 3.
And that is a pre-COVID statistic. I shudder to think how this will move as isolation, a severe underfunding of youth mental health initiatives, long wait lists for support services and the media’s increasing coverage of vocal anti LGBTIQ+ messaging continues to impact on people.
Those of you who know me really well might also know that a close friend of mine lost his fight with his mental health last year. A fucking amazing, fierce, phenomenal man, an adult, who worked tirelessly in this very space for almost two decades. Who himself was trained to recognise the warning signs and support people in crisis. Who was openly and actively working with his own support team on his own mental health journey. Who was surrounded on a daily basis by people trained to recognise and support people in crisis.
Including me.
He was surrounded by the love of the community in which he worked, by friends, by family, by his loving husband. He knew how much difference he was making in the world just by existing every day. How many lives he was touching.
It wasn’t enough.
Sometimes no matter how fast you run, no matter how many people cheer you on, how many people you feel you owe it to to win, the black dog just catches up. Sometimes the help available just isn’t enough.
Which brings me to me. Only the fewest people closest to me know that for the last few years I have been l actively working through my own mental health challenges. If you have read this far, that now includes you.
I see a psychologist regularly. I am back on antidepressants. I have had days where things almost felt too hard. I left a role that I loved, that fulfilled me, because continuing to do it was just too risky, too heartbreaking, and I needed time to heal.
In this, again, I am lucky, because I have the knowledge, the resources and the support to take care of myself in the way I need to.
And it’s still been bloody hard.
But our young people so often don’t have that.
20Talk’s work supports young people by offering crucial education and training, upskilling them with tools that can help them overcome these challenges. Tools I wish I knew sooner, I wish other young people had had sooner.
Tools that could have saved lives that have already been lost.
We have a long way to go in the way we talk about mental health challenges, and in the resourcing available to the community. But every single step in the right direction might save a life. And every single life is worth that.
So why am I doing this?
That’s why.
Love you and always have your back. Mum & Dad