Sadly I heard two “friends of friends” stories recently of men losing their battle with mental illness. The classic, stock-standard response came from those that told the stories: “You would never have known”.
Almost a year ago, this same story played out when a high-flying, “successful” man in his thirties was found dead by his girlfriend in the early hours, the day after Anzac Day. Just hours before he was out with friends, seemingly living the dream.
The reaction from many is of course huge upset and heartache. But commonly a wave of confusion, and sadly sometimes ignorance of what makes men think to leave this world is less painful than dealing with a mental health condition.
In this Anzac Day scenario, I wrote a blog soon after to go some way to explain in any way I could, that starting over the cliff top at the abyss is far from rare. I have been there, far too many times, and I continue to be there regularly. But I am still here.
After one of these episodes you can easily look back and wonder how you found yourself on this ledge. For example, on a nondescript Tuesday lunchtime recently I found myself lying on the couch, cowering, panicking, mind-racing, with zero energy, not even enough to pick up my phone.
The stunning Sydney-sunshine beamed onto my leg through the patio doors and gave some mild relief. But all I could think of was how we were going to survive financially in a years time with a bigger family and I did the classic scenario-playing my mind defaults to at these times. It visualises what the future will look like without my little family, long-gone because I could not provide for them and was not “man enough” to survive.
Gradually, after 90 minutes of idleness, I rise and my mental and physical energy recoups. That evening I play futsal, come home and work past midnight on several projects. I then have some great news about progress with expanding Mr. Perfect and am on the verge of sealing a decent success in my consulting work.
I smash through emails, contact others that can help my projects, listen to some upbeat music and dopamine is shooting through my body. Everything I touch turns to gold and I switch seamlessly between work on a handful of these projects.
The relative stability of only “breaking down” in private every few months has gone for now. It can be a matter of hours. The moderate bell-curve is now a sharp red line of rise and fall, much like the stock price graph of Bitcoin.
When I am on the rise, I have to make those highs count because I am already thinking ahead to the wipeout and what that will feel like. It can lead to excellence but that rocket-boost fuel will only last so long.
When I fall, I know that despite the sometimes-indescribable pain, it will not and cannot last. Having a strategy in these moments is key, whatever that may be.
I cannot speak for all men at that cliff-top edge but starting to understand just a part of that internal process may help us all be better prepared when we notice this in someone close, or even in ourselves.
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