It's also 2016, and there are a lot of people who still don't give a shit about it. If you need proof of this, scroll back to April when only 10 Irish TD's bothered to turn up to a chamber discussion on the subject. If you're from Ireland, you will all be familiar with the tragic suicide rate that comes with this illness. One in Five young people experiences a mental health disorder, whilst 62% would not want other people knowing if they themselves had a mental health problem.
Mental health has been a touchy subject around the Catholic religion. It's often considered a dirty disease, and not usually spoken about outside of the family environment. When Pope Francis, 76, took his seat as the worldwide leader of the Catholic Church, he replied to a question about a gay priest with "who who am I to judge?". Pope Francis is reforming ancient, and outdated views, and embracing all types of people disregarding their sexual preference, gender, faith or past behaviours. If the Catholic Church is evolving to fit 21st Century beliefs, why is the stigma of mental health not changing too. Why are ten people choosing to end their lives a week in Ireland, or 525 people a year? With €12 million missing from the mental health budget, there is no evidence of reforming a failing health service.
It's not so different across the Irish Sea. Around 4,400 people end their own lives in England each year, that's one death every two hours, with at least 10 times that number attempting suicide. The Health and Social Care Bill only became law last year. This bill means that mental and physical health services should be treated the same, a commitment to "parity of esteem". A report issued last week found that although mental health accounts for 28% of the total burden of disease, it gets a measly 13% of the NHS's budget. Not only has this Tory Government caused this massive mental health crisis from multiple policy failures, welfare cuts and years of crushing austerity, but it's also failing to fix the mess it created too.
Speaking personally from my experiences with the illness, comes from my childhood. It was hard growing up with a mother like mine. At the time, I didn't understand, but I have had time to evaluate why my mother was the way she was. Her sister committed suicide when she was a teenager, never talked about this suppressive grief, a Catholic set of parents, and the idea that what went on in the family, stayed within the family. I believe that this was the start of my mothers illness, and what followed, stayed with her the rest of her life. What stayed with her evolved into addictions, and these addictions eventually consumed her.
I'm not ashamed of my mother. If anything, proud she made it that far. My mother was ill. Very fucking ill. Imagine this - your mother coming into your room at 6am to tell you there is an alien named Marie in her bedroom and that she wants you to meet her new friend. Now imagine that you're 11-years-old as well, and your father is now bringing your mother to get sectioned. Scary shit. Don't get me wrong, my mother's love for her children was unconditional, but sometimes she just got really lost. I always wonder where was the longterm help that she needed to get better? Would things of turned out different if she had the adequate network of support to help her through this?
Next year will mark the 10 year anniversary of my mothers death. There isn't a day that goes by that she doesn't cross my mind. Despite the tragedy, I would like to think that what my mother went through has made me strong, but it's not always the case. After all, I'm only human, so of course I have my moments. I will momentarily feel weak, have a cry, then call a caring friend, my loving dad or my supportive boyfriend, talk about how I'm feeling, and I'll pull myself together because mental health is nothing to be embarrassed about.
Not one little bit.
Speaking personally from my experiences with the illness, comes from my childhood. It was hard growing up with a mother like mine. At the time, I didn't understand, but I have had time to evaluate why my mother was the way she was. Her sister committed suicide when she was a teenager, never talked about this suppressive grief, a Catholic set of parents, and the idea that what went on in the family, stayed within the family. I believe that this was the start of my mothers illness, and what followed, stayed with her the rest of her life. What stayed with her evolved into addictions, and these addictions eventually consumed her.
I'm not ashamed of my mother. If anything, proud she made it that far. My mother was ill. Very fucking ill. Imagine this - your mother coming into your room at 6am to tell you there is an alien named Marie in her bedroom and that she wants you to meet her new friend. Now imagine that you're 11-years-old as well, and your father is now bringing your mother to get sectioned. Scary shit. Don't get me wrong, my mother's love for her children was unconditional, but sometimes she just got really lost. I always wonder where was the longterm help that she needed to get better? Would things of turned out different if she had the adequate network of support to help her through this?
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| My beautiful mother, Anne-Marie, 18.4.59 - 9.6.07 |
Not one little bit.
