‘Le Grá - what grieving the loss of a friend has taught me’

Daragh Fleming is a See Change ambassador, here he tells us about his own battles with mental health and reminds us that supports are available during tough times...

I’m an Irish writer and poet living in Barcelona. Like many, mental health awareness is important to me for personal reasons. When I was 17, my best friend took his own life. He was 18 at the time. We had no idea he was struggling. From the outside looking in, his life seemed good, he seemed happy. But this wasn’t the case. One day he was here, and then he wasn’t.

Following this, I grieved for months. There were so many questions, so many feelings. And then my grief morphed into depression. I stopped feeling anything. At first there were lots of feelings and then there were none at all. I became numb to the world, unable to connect with anything or anyone. It seemed as though I’d felt so much that a fuse blew, and my mind could no longer process these emotions. I no longer felt joy, happiness, anger – anything.

Life became this grey, bland experience. I was no longer living in ways. A life without emotion isn’t much of one at all. This lasted for three years before I realised I was depressed, and it took a further year before things got so bad that I could no longer carry the burden alone. I refused to get help because, at the time, I thought it meant there was something wrong with me. That being depressed meant I was less than. And so I suffered on alone until I had a massive panic attack in the street in Cork City. After that, I could no longer ignore what was happening.

I went to therapy. I made an effort to improve my mental health. And things did improve. Four years after my friend died, I got better. I started feeling emotions again, slowly, quietly. Writing helped me to feel them more intensely. And this is when I started writing about mental health, and writing in general. I started a blog called 'Thoughts Too Big', which aimed to normalise talking about our mental health. I also found that writing poetry helped me to engage with my emotions, to feel them fully, more clearly, and deeply.

The scariest part is, I didn’t really know how empty life is without emotion until after I recovered. It was only when I could feel emotion again that I realised how little I had been living.

I was on autopilot, reacting the way I thought people expected but feeling nothing. It was as if my soul had been taken. I became a non-playable character, an extra in the lives of others rather than playing a role in my own life.

Today I still do this work. My goal has been to prevent suicide, to stop men in particular from taking their own lives. My friend dying this way is the worst and most difficult thing that has ever happened in my life, and so if I can do anything to prevent someone from taking their own life, then I’ll do it wholeheartedly. I also don’t want anyone to have to grieve the loss of a loved one through suicide, to have to accept an event that is impossible to fathom.

I still think about him every day. Grief is an interesting thing. It crystallises memory. It ensures that we never forget the people we have lost. It is love enduring. And now, 12 years on, I don’t get sad when I think of my friend, but rather, I remember him each and every day. And so he lives on in that way.

This is why working in mental health is important to me. It’s why I write honestly and often about the difficulties I may be facing, big or small. I believe that if we talk about these uncomfortable things, we can encourage others to do the same by example. If someone reads what I’ve been through and sees themselves in it, then maybe they’ll start to talk, and seek the help they need. And as men, we can let other men know that we can express our emotions, our concerns, our struggles, rather than trying to carry the burden alone.

We’ve been socialised to keep things hidden, and it’s extremely clear to me that this has done more harm than good.

And so this is all I ever ask people to do – talk. Be honest, be open. It’s not easy, but it is worthwhile. It does make a difference.

SUPPORTS

If you are having a tough time at the moment and need to reach out for support, please contact any of the following free 24/7 supports: Samaritans on 116 123, Pieta on 1800 247 247, Text Hello to 50808, email phil@shine.ie or find more information on www.yourmentalhealth.ie