By Melina Harris
MAY is mental health month, and, in last week’s column, I took a more formal look at some of the global statistics and the pervasiveness of certain mental health conditions globally and locally here in Guyana. In this week’s column, I wish to share a few of my personal experiences dealing with mental illness and the loss of a loved one from this scourge.

Most Guyanese would have been personally affected by suicide; the statistics alone suggest this. Sadly, my first encounter with suicide happened before I was old enough to really understand what had happened. I was quite young when one of my male cousins took his own life, but I remember, quite clearly, how I felt hearing that he had passed away. It was shocking and I had so many questions. I was so sad. He was always so funny, vivacious and loveable so when I had heard what happened, I could not understand why. It just happened and we all mourned and moved on.

Unfortunately, my cousin was not the first member of my family to have taken his life, at least three other members of my family have taken their own lives, some during my lifetime and others before I was born. Clearly, we have some issues in my family and although it is sad and perhaps alarming to some, there are many other families who have been affected by mental illness in this way. Although I have never suffered from any diagnosable mental health condition, I have always been painfully aware that perhaps I might be more susceptible to a mental illness because of my family’s history. From my research, the likelihood of me developing a mental health illness is quite high, if familial patterns are anything to go by. This is perhaps the reason why I have always been so fascinated by the inner workings of the mind.

By my early twenties, I started to read a lot more books about the mind, psychology and spirituality. Living in the UK, one is confronted by mental illness on a daily basis. Depression and anxiety are two of the most common mental health conditions that people in the UK face. As a young woman living away from home for the first time at University, I became even more aware of just how common mental health conditions are. My student halls were mixed and I made friends with everyone whom I lived with, especially the young man across the hall from me.

He was an introvert but hilarious and would play video games all day long. At the time, he literally lost himself in World of Warcraft, a ridiculously addictive online game. He spent days in his room, barely sleeping or bathing and would just play this game incessantly. By the second term, it became clear that he was socially isolated, and I started to notice that his moods were different. By the end of the summer term, it was obvious that he was struggling with depression. He had missed most of his lectures and was now faced with the option to re-do the entire year. I think moving back home with his family over the summer helped him and the following semester, he seemed more like himself.

By my mid-twenties, many more of my acquaintances started to talk about experiencing depression and anxiety. At this point, most of us had obtained a degree and had started working in the real world. Needless to say, many were unprepared for the transition from an academic life to a professional one. The resultant stresses forced many of my peers into depression, that, coupled with the economic situation following the great recession of 2008/09, meant that many of us were working for much less than we had been told we would have, and it seemed like the value of our degrees had dropped. That, coupled with student loans and other debts, definitely contributed to feelings of depression and anxiety amongst my colleagues.

My late twenties were challenging because I lost two friends to mental illness by way of suicide. The first friend I lost was a beautiful white South African girl who moved to the UK when we were in secondary school. We went to the same college after secondary school and to separate universities after college. She was an artist and wonderfully talented but had been battling depression since childhood. I remember some conversations that we had where we would talk about her depression and make light of it, that was just her sense of humor.

A few days before she passed away, I was on her Facebook page and was about to send her a message to check on her as we hadn’t spoken in a while, something distracted me and I never sent the message. A few days later I received the news that she had taken her life. I was haunted for months with thoughts that I could have done something to prevent that outcome. Her funeral was one of the saddest days of my life and I cried uncontrollably throughout the service, unable to speak because I was stifled by grief.

My other friend came from Uganda and was really my best friend’s pal but we all hung out together over the years and knew each other well enough to call ourselves friends. She suffered from schizophrenia and psychosis and had sought help to deal with the symptoms which were quite severe sometimes. My best friend was with her throughout the ordeal until she too decided to take her life. We all grieved again.

I share these stories because I know that there are many of us out there who have lost loved ones to mental illness and although it is painful, whilst we are here, I believe it is our duty to help others where we can. Mental illness does not have to be a death sentence and certainly does not have to dictate the course of anyone’s life.

Help is available and healing is very much possible so I encourage anyone suffering silently to seek help from a professional, it will be the best thing you do for yourself.
Next week will be focused on those who have sought help and who have overcome mental illness.