The Parallel life that was 2021

The end of a year, the beginning of a new one, time for reflections, successes, plans for the future, the things we have learned, giving thanks to the people that have helped us along the way, but for me it is limping exhausted across the finish line, and finally allowing myself to recognise that yes, I need a break, yes, I need to be kind to myself and yes, I am not ok.

My professional year has been well documented for anyone that knows me, I have pulled 60-hour weeks just to keep the wheels moving. I have been resilient and agile facing constant change and uncertainty, on the face of it I have been positive. I have been dedicated to trying to maintain hundreds of relationships to get our organization through this crisis. I have fallen asleep thinking up new concepts, projects and must do things, if “we” fail, I fail. I have kept the mohawk looking good and I have tried to show the world, I’ve got this.

This has been my professional life this year. Now for my personal life, the one that runs parallel to my work life.

As the clock struck midnight ringing in 2021, I had just sent my 21-year-old son home in a cab following his discharge from ED earlier in the day, he was discharged following a suicide attempt.

7 days later I was back in ED at 7am in the morning holding his hand as a second attempt hit home and his distress at not wanting to exist in this world anymore was real, heart-breaking, and he was desperately looking for help.

I knew he had been in a tough place over the last year or so, he had moved out of home, striding ahead to be independent but an underlying a desire to distance himself from the family that love him so dearly. I knew he was in pain, but looking back I was afraid to ask him why, I think I was scared that I may be the reason, was it because me and his dad has divorced when we was 7? Did I do something that contributed to his pain? Did I miss something?

The reality was I did miss something, a traumatic event that he hid from us, an event that impacted his early teenage years and in order to protect me from his pain and his plan to end his life, he distanced himself from us, but finally in hospital that morning I found out everything he had kept hidden.

The first 3 months of the year were hard, I put everything in a box and just went into survival mode searching for a way I could actually help. I became his mental health advocate. I wish I didn’t have to be, but the state of the mental health service in NZ means that unless you are able to advocate and make some noise, you get lost in abyss, then you end up in ED, “lucky” to be found.

I was able to be his voice, when up to three mental health workers at a time would meet with him, they didn’t listen or hear my son, they thought they knew what was best for him, but how could they if they didn’t listen. I became his voice, his conduit for telling them what he needed. I got the cell phone number of his case workers, I made sure they checked in on him every day. There was days when he would call me at 8am and say I have no meds left, please help me. I would call his case worker and be told he didn’t show up for his appt so it was his fault he had not meds – furious I asked them did they know why he had not showed up? because if they did, they would know that he had no bus money, because he was waiting on them to sign his sickness certificate to get access to benefits, he had no cell credit to ring them either. He was disconnected and alone. (we tried very hard to get him to come home, but it was not what he wanted, he didn’t want his 12-year-old brother to see him like this)

Fortunately for my son we were able to financially help him, although he tried very hard to maintain his independence and it took longer than I would have liked for him to really let us know what was going on, but that is mental health for you – I know because I have been there too – you push those closest to you away, it’s a coping mechanism, it helps reinforce why you should not be here, if you feel disconnected from people who love you then it’s easier to justify your way out of the world.

I get it, it’s real.

There are very basic core changes to mental health that would make such a difference in NZ – yes counselling and medication is important, but so is being able to get to appointments and more importantly having access to communicate. The no 1 priority for any mental health team is to know your patients have access to travel and phone – without this, nothing can be achieved and the lack of awareness of this shocks me. (Maybe this is a space for phone companies – I challenge someone to offer free data to people in crisis, can we get crisis snapper cards? These are really simple but essentials tools in the road to recovery.)

For the first 9 months of the year, I have messaged my son once a week with the same question – do you feel like killing yourself today? Brutal? Unnecessary? Unkind? NO. Dealing with the worst thing in life requires hard questions to be asked, and it has helped both me and my son.

Does that mean every night I don’t worry about a knock on the door? No, it doesn’t, but it helps normalise his trauma, it helps us have an open dialogue of our reality.

In May my body let me know I needed to slow down, my nervous system kind of shut down and I was in pain so severe I needed crutches (after refusing a Zimmer frame) and spent 3 weeks crawling around the house in pain, but still found my laptop, and a way to keep the wheels turning at work and at home.

As the year draws to a close, my son has now moved into his own little flat, we have made it nice for him, he has not been in hospital since January, he has just been accepted onto a course next year, he has some hope, he has moved one step closer to surviving on this earth, but for every step forward its still there, bubbling away. Only last Friday after a missed text he sent me in the early hours of the morning, then switched his phone off. The 15 min drive to his place (in silence as the car radio refused to work!) ?I went to a place I don’t think I have gone to this year; do I have a hammer in the car I can break in with? Do I know how to do CPR, could I even bring myself to do that to my own son? Who will I have to call first? Do I call his dad or the ambulance first? How will I pay for his funeral? After what seems liked a lifetime banging on his window he answered the door, sleepy and dishevelled saying “sorry I couldn’t sleep and put my phone on aeroplane mode”. My response “You little shit, I thought you were dead “– and we both laughed. Then I cleaned his bathroom, took all his rubbish away, and went back home to work on the grant application I had to submit the next day!

All of this has taken place while I have had to juggle my other four children, one who was distressed at her post grad being risked as she was shut out of the lab during lockdown, one daughter who dropped out of school due to the effects of distance learning, another daughter has been ill and in hospital, and the youngest aged 12 has quietly cruised on, I know wishing mum had more time for him.

Driving home after that frantic trip to my son last week I realised I had opened the lid of the box that has been kept shut all year, I allowed myself to go to a place I refused too before now, Why? I reckon it is because I am emotionally and physically exhausted, burnt out, and a little bit vulnerable. Does that make me weak? unable to cope? NO, it makes me human, it makes me realise that recognising when your oxygen tank is empty and you can’t breathe, then its time to replace that tank with fresh oxygen.

So, 2021 goodbye forever, you can be a distant memory for so many reasons and I will welcome in the new year with one goal – To take better care of myself, to spend more time with my family, and will TRY to strike a better balance between being a kick ass leader and being a kick ass mum, friend, wife, and one of life’s many survivors.?