For better or worse, in sickness and health

"The complex 'burden of sympathy' in dealing with someone else's mental health problems is certainly not an easy load to carry. Carers are confronted with their own emotions that can revolve around feelings of grief, guilt, anger, bitterness and sorrow. Crucially, carers must be careful not to lose their identity to the enveloping quicksand of the illness. They must learn to set boundaries to protect their own lives, and sense of themselves, from engulfment." - Journeys With The Black Dog, 2007

Our wedding, 2014. 

Have you ever had to watch or listen on as someone you loved broke down in tears, crippled with anxiety and exhaustion, wracked with sorrow and pain too hard to explain?

I have.

I've seen my husband, a burly, hairy bloke, someone you'd probably least likely expect to see change over the years. He was the life of the party, a goofball in our social circles at university, some even wondered what I saw in him. But he was my keeper. A loyal friend and compassionate heart, with a faith in God that encouraged and spurred others on, including myself, to love and good deeds. Such a high achiever - ambitious and dedicated - he strove for excellence in whatever he stuck his mind to. He'd also crack a good joke here and there or break out a string of accented prose.

But the black dog lay quietly waiting. And it wasn't long before our married days became dark in the shadow of depression. First, it was anxiety brought on by the fear of failure, and the anxiety caused, in part, by the isolation of a masters thesis. We overcame this and, a published thesis later, we saw the other side.

Accepting the Jill Roe Prize at Macquarie University. It was difficult to believe that someone who achieved so much  could struggle so profoundly with things we often take for granted.

This was short-lived, however, as the gruelling mission of finding work as an Arts graduate took its course. How many months? We couldn't be certain.

It's hard to stand on the sideline and feel as if there's nothing more you can do to help. To see someone that you love sink into a void that you're so desperately trying to avoid falling into as well. Cause you know that if you get too close you could be at risk of being pulled in.

I've been trying to keep myself grounded by reading a book given to my husband and I about others' stories and journeys with the black dog. From the beginning, it provides an insight into the varying levels of anxiety and depression, what sufferers experience and how they come to terms with their condition, and what helps them.

Perhaps I've buried myself too much in this book and their stories. Have I neglected my husband's story? Our story? In any case, you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to balance the desire of wanting to 'fix' the situation and the need to just love this person.

The lead up to having our baby for me was equally gruelling as my husband's job hunt. It was a battle just to try and keep positive in the face of his resentment and bitterness with where our lives were at. We found ourselves, married, nearing thirty, and living with his parents until he found work, looking for rental places, and preparing for a baby's arrival. He did well to hide a lot of his anxieties. But there were times, quite a few actually, where the cracks appeared and the turmoil within was glanced at.

"How could I parent a child when I can't even look after myself?" That was a question he would ask me. "What will this baby think of her father, in the state he is in?" It's hard to tell someone who is stuck in an anxiety spiral that our baby won't care, let alone understand what we're going through.

My pregnancy and birth was God's precious gift to a struggling couple. I was healthy, I was rarely experiencing discomfort, except some aches and pains. Our baby girl was born without any complications and in fantastic health, my recovery was swift and straightforward, and she's a blissfully happy and easy going baby.

But the first few weeks of our daughter's birth became survival of the fittest. I had to take what adrenaline I was on and channel that into caring and worrying about my husband's health, as he took a turn for the worst and was soon hospitalised. It was one of the hardest weeks of my life. With a barely two week old baby, a worried dog in tow, and a body that was still recovering (don't even ask me how my mind was going, even now I don't know how I coped), we fought a formidable beast.

Our little bundle of joy.

How can one take on so much? Well, we were blessed to already have a great GP who has a specific interest in mental health, supportive family and friends, a psychologist who knew my husband well, and a community mental health team to aid and assist in building what they called a 'scaffolding of support'. Having faith that God would put all this to good use, and provide a light at the end of the tunnel (no matter how small or even if we couldn't see it yet), was a comfort and anchor.

Ten months on and it's harder for me now than ever not to feel like those early weeks, even months, of parenthood and adjusting to a newborn were robbed of us. It's not my husband's fault, even though it can feel easier to blame him at times, but knowing that we can't get that time back is often frustrating. What's also frustrating is the lingering anxiety, sadness and edginess we feel knowing this thing won't go away easily, or quickly. It's one thing to own a dog, but it's another to bring it to heel.

For me, it's a battle to shield my small family, and myself, from the storm of one of my husband's more depressive moods, let alone try and love and support him through it. How do others do it? Cause I am no master. I've certainly been unhelpful, resentful, sad and bitter about it. I know that he's supportive of me as a mother and worker, you should've seen him on the day our daughter was born, and he wants our daughter to have everything she desires, but there is equally no amount of training or experience that can steer you through the dark clouds either. One thing I am always certain of is that 'this too shall pass', and that we will figure a way through this storm.

If someone you know is suffering, please don't just let them be. Start a conversation, listen patiently and educate yourself in terms of mental health and how to care for a loved one who's suffering (beyondblue has some helpful tips). Assist them in finding a GP who is trained and knowledgeable in mental health. My experience is that if you find the right GP, he or she will be able to suggest community mental health services and assist in gaining government assistance for such things as psychological and counselling services. My husband has also made contact with Lifeline (13 11 14) numerous times and the SANE Australia website possesses a wealth of information. Another fantastic website (and tool) is Headspace. Through Headspace, you can learn about meditation and mindfulness, and put your learning to the test. This assisted my husband and I in learning how to slow down and stop anxiety from taking hold. There is a wealth of information out there. But equally important as looking out for that loved one, staying strong and reliable, you need to also look after yourself and make sure you're ok physically and emotionally. Consult a GP, get counselling for yourself, find trustworthy mates who can chew the fat, and don't allow yourself to think that your health and wellbeing is second-rate or an afterthought.

"The key to managing your own role in the person’s recovery is to try to incorporate the support role into your life and try not to let it become your whole life." - beyondblue