When you were young, you feared the dark; but what if you couldn’t find the light? Sufferers of mental illness face life without light.
In hard times, life gets better.
Except for sufferers of mental illness; it doesn’t.
You wake up every morning – no reason to move. Craving light, no desire to flick the switch. Perhaps there isn’t even a switch.
One in five Australians has experienced this crisis, or others. Mental health issues and suicide accounts for the loss of seven human deaths each day.
You could become one of them. On any given day, you are likely to encounter someone suffering from the effects of depression or anxiety. Someone is walking past you consumed by the same fear, the same doubt, the same hollow feeling.
It’s complicated. The single phrase most often conveyed when trying to explain to someone why they missed class or can’t get out of bed or haven’t eaten in three days or can’t bring themselves to smile. More often than not they abstain from the situation at all, not wanting people to know, not wanting to let people in. So they force their benumbed legs out of bed and show up, they fight the part of their mind telling them nothing’s worthwhile.
It didn’t start complicated. I met Anthony Di Marco in 2010. We were in the same class, we talked a lot, became relatively close after a semester. The intimate, closed circle of friends in high school cracked open and he eventually became a mainstay. He felt like he belonged to something, I always pondered moments that kept Anthony alive, moments which kept him here today. Perhaps that was one.
“It’s impossible to define something like that. It’s like trying to define being numb, it’s a lack of anything being there.”
Sometimes all he needed was an ear, sometimes he needed an arm around his shoulder, sometimes he needed a mouth to make him laugh. Any passer-by would simply look at two young idiots laughing together, not a care in the world.
The Oxford Dictionary defines Depression as “a mental condition characterized by feelings of severe despondency and dejection, typically also with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, often accompanied by lack of energy and disturbance of appetite and sleep”, yet the idea of ‘defining’ it seems totally void.
So in an attempt to educate, to inform, to allow people to get an insight into the a mind struggling against the darkness, Anthony started making videos which he published to Facebook.
“I didn’t really have a solid answer as to why I did them. One night I just said, ‘I’m going to make a video’, and it just started something. I had no idea they’d get the traction they did. I just kind of put it out there.”
People saw him in front of a camera, expressing something that could only truly be expressed by those who had the misfortune of experiencing it, and they took kindly to him. It was well received amongst a multitude of people, most of whom sent messages telling him they were sorry, that they never knew he was suffering and if they did, they didn’t properly understand until he made them understand.
Anthony sat in front of a camera and told people what they might not have wanted to hear, what they couldn’t possibly have fathomed, and they listened.
There’s a very good reason why he did it, even if it only really manifested after the videos started to get traction.
Trying to make someone understand something is a difficult task. Trying to make someone understand something they’re not comfortable with is something of an impossibility. Why would someone want to understand something when a simple act of sympathy will do? Your initial reaction to someone telling you they’ve attempted to kill themselves is shock, horror, sympathy, and kindness. Because you think that’s what they need, you think that’s what will make things better.
Most people don’t really know what to say, who could in that scenario? You pass it off when they tell you because you don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to put yourselves in their shoes because you can’t physically imagine what it would be like. You’re uncomfortable with what will happen if you’d put yourselves in their position, because in your mind it’s selfish, it’s ridiculous, it’s unfathomable to even contemplate.
That’s why you tell them that life is worth living, and don’t make any mention of why. You tell them life will get better and don’t give any possible reasoning. Because in your mind, life’s worth it simply because it’s there, it’s fleeting, and the fact it’s fleeting makes it valuable. In their mind, life’s fleeting nature is what sparks the question.
Why live with this pain? What’s the point to living with something that you can’t possibly see get better? When you’re surrounded by darkness and the only voice you hear is telling you that you can be free of the pain, free of living without feeling, you listen to it. In moments of weakness, it becomes the only voice you hear.
It’s not something as simple as completely lacking in hope, some abstract assertion that life’s not worth getting up for anymore, either. It’s like being trapped in a fire in a high-rise building. The invisible agony of the decisions in itself tears the person up as much as he pain leading to it, and the decision itself becomes an affliction akin to facing a blaze or a jump. The same way that a normal person will jump from the window of a burning high-rise building, the terror of falling to your death becomes a better alternative to being burnt by the fire.
Nobody on the sidewalk shouting “don’t do it” can understand the jump, because they don’t see the fire. What they need is someone to take them through the fire, to help give them another option.
“It’s going to sound empty, but it’s something that needs more attention. Throughout my life and things that I’ve gone through, I’ve talked to, met, listened to a lot of people. There have been times when these issues have been neglected or brushed over, because they’re difficult things to talk about.”
Humans have a tremendous capability to sympathise, yet to actually understand something takes a level of devotion, of empathy, that most don’t seem to comprehend. In your own life, you become mechanically obsessed with working, achieving things, being a functioning member of society, which is why it’s impossible to think about someone being completely incapable of doing these things because of a few thoughts.
Unfortunately, those people legislate and dictate the lives of those who find themselves confronted with this exigency.
“I hope that maybe, for other people, these videos can raise awareness. It’s a conversation. These things need to be said.”
The words stir similar, correlating emotions to Taylor Clifford: who last week spoke publicly to the ABC regarding her sister’s suicide.
“For someone who has attempted to take their life multiple times before, that system is not a system. It’s broken. And we need a new one.”
This was from a girl still recovering from the loss of her sister to suicide. She’s being forced to come to terms with why her sister, who she’d known her entire life, was suddenly gone.
In response, the federal health minister Sussan Ley admitted that reforms to the mental health system were long overdue.
“The complex and fragmented nature of our system means that what works for one patient won’t work for another. But there are some clear, consistent things we need to do and one of them is what we called ‘stepped care’: for example when someone comes out of hospital that they aren’t released back to their family, back to a life that they found impossible to manage, and left to cope.”
“Everyone goes through periods of instability, of insecurity, of sadness. Mental health, and the issues that arise from it, make those things larger, more consuming. Even for yourself, there have been periods of time when you go through stuff, it fades. With depression, it’s always there.”
Anthony reflects, returning to his own experiences, and those he’d seen in others.
“These things can be overwhelming, sometimes they can be insurmountable. Sometimes you manage them, sometimes, you just can’t.”
It’s transient, it’s ever-changing, but there are ways to cope.
“Awareness is very important with any issue, no matter what it is. But awareness is nullified without action. People can know everything in the world about something, but if they can’t do anything with it, awareness means nothing.”
You can demand change, be in a position where society deems it necessary for people to receive proper care following an attempt to take their own life, and that will help people more than first thought. To feel like you’re worth something, to feel like you’re being helped in your plight, that is what these people need and deserve. After suffering for what seems like an eternity, and coming to the very edge of your own mortality, to feel something as simple as a friend talk to you again, as if everything’s normal. To share a laugh, when you’d forgotten how to. To have somebody there, looking after you.
It all sounds so simple.
The reality is that it’s complicated; of course it is. When hell becomes normal, any ideas of heaven are long forgotten. But nobody needs heaven: most people just need someone there.
Perhaps the most humbling, resonating feeling I’ve ever experienced was after an especially bad time in Anthony’s life, when we were just talking, as we always do, and he thanked me. He told me that the reason he was still alive was because of me. That he wanted to thank me for being there when he needed me.
When stuck in darkness, the only way to find your way out is by turning on the light. It’s a reasonable metaphor, one which seems appropriate when contemplating a life without vision, without guidance, without feeling. But darkness never lasts, only the perception of it.
Ask yourself, as you contemplate that kind of darkness, why you’d take your own life.
It’s not a selfish act, it’s not some kind of response to a tidal wave of sadness and numbness; it’s not because the thoughts are telling you that you’re not worth anything. It’s the realisation that they’re better off without you.
Then you share a laugh, you muck around, you give a smile and suddenly you’re standing in the water, the tidal wave nothing but a memory. It’ll come back, of course it will, but you won’t let it knock you over. And if it does, you won’t let it keep you down. And if it does, you’ll swim to the top, take a breath, and reach up. There’s a hand there, pulling you up. You’re not alone. You’re never alone.
Sometimes you don’t need a switch to find the light. All you need is someone with a match and some sticks to come sit next to you.
“Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.”
Stephen Fry, the intelligent British comedian who is known for fighting through mental illness, said reflecting on his own experiences.
We laughed about a story, during the interview. Something Anthony told me a few months ago. A tattoo that he said he’d get, representing his struggle, the fight, and the fact he was still standing on the other side. He’s a good man, the best I’ve ever known, and with every smile and laugh he flashed when answering questions about his greatest affliction, that was only reinforced.
“I believe in the potential of all human beings to do good.”
He says, with a contemplative smile. That’s where we differ, I say, and we laugh.
“This is something that affects all of us, and we can accept the responsibility that we can do something about it.”
It doesn’t have to be drastic. You don’t have to open your home to them or confess your deepest, darkest secrets just to distract them, it probably won’t work anyway.
All he needed was someone there for him. That’s all anyone needs.
If this piece has affected you in any way, do not hesitate to ask for help. There are contacts below which will help you through.
Lifeline – Ph: 13 11 14
Headspace – Ph: 1800 650 850 – http://www.headspace.org.au
ReachOut – http://www.reachout.com
Beyond Blue – 1300 22 4636 – beyondblue.org.au
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The Tirade - A Blog By Alex Barilaro 