'I've worked in mental health for 10 years. Mums seeking support for their kids need me most.'

This post contains discussion of mental health and suicide and could be triggering for some readers.

I’m collecting mothers.

One of the privileges of working in mental health is being able to connect with people – mothers, fathers, siblings, families and communities.  

But it’s the mothers I seem to attract the most. Mothers desperate to access care for their son or daughter. Mothers who stay awake for nights on end to keep them safe. Mothers who have lost a child to suicide and are fiercely determined to stop it happening to anyone else.

That’s not to say that the dads aren’t similarly affected. But there seems to be something that happens at a cellular level in mothers when their child is impacted by serious mental illness or suicide. They grow this burning rage that you can see in their eyes and feel when they share their story. This rage never seems to abate, even after years have passed.  

These mothers approach me at work events, but increasingly also in social settings. Nearly every conversation starts with ‘why’. Why was my daughter sent home from hospital when she was clearly suicidal? Why is calling emergency services my only option when my son is psychotic? Why does my desperately unwell child have to wait six months before they can see a specialist?

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These questions weigh heavily on me and not just because I’m a mother myself. 

I’ve spent over a decade working in the mental health sector. I’ve been consulted scores of times, contributed to multiple commissions and read a mountain of reports. There’s been lots of tinkering around the edges, but I’m yet to see the one thing happen that would really make a difference –  acknowledgement of the enormous need and give mental health the funding and attention it needs.

Unless you’re someone with a long term or complex mental health condition or someone who cares for someone in this situation, it’s hard to appreciate just how serious this under-resourcing is at a services level.

Around 40 per cent of us will experience mental ill-health at some stage in their life. While a large proportion of these will be classified as mild, there are almost 1 million Australians living with severe, complex or persistent illness. 

Without appropriate care and support, people living with conditions such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or personality disorders can struggle to gain employment and maintain relationships, struggle to participate in their communities, and struggle to access and sustain meaningful and gainful work. 

This community has a reduced life expectancy and are significantly more likely to die by suicide. But with early diagnosis, effective treatment, and ongoing support, we can (and we often do) live full and productive lives. I’m evidence of this. And so are many of the talented and amazing people I work with.

Despite knowing this, and despite the fact that mental health accounts for 13 per cent of the total disease burden in Australia, it currently receives only seven per cent of the health care funding. And this has been the case for a very long time.

This statistic in particular stands out to me because it reveals that, fundamentally, the system doesn't believe that mental health needs are as critical as physical health.

Here’s a recent story to illustrate this. During the pandemic, one of the few specialist inpatient settings for young people with acute mental health needs was converted to a COVID ward. They didn't move these kids to another ward or location – they just sent them home. 

Imagine if either of these situations had happened to women or children in a cancer ward. 

So why, in this brave new world of mental health awareness and resilience are we still seeing this kind of discrimination when it comes to health care access? I believe much of it is driven by fear. We fear what we don’t understand; we fear what isn’t normalised.

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Yes, we are certainly more comfortable with depression and anxiety, but I would argue that they’re still only normalised within the boundaries of what's palatable. If you can’t get out of bed or clean your house, if you need a more than a two weeks away from work, or develop a problem with alcohol or other drugs, then your acceptability levels start to plummet. 

Often the most difficult thing to accept about mental illness is that for many people, it may not go away entirely. We don’t have a lot of tolerance for people who may not recover, probably because most of the public campaigns and advertising makes it seem like if you work hard enough, if you talk to enough people about it, you’ll get better. 

This lack of understanding and avoidance of the issue has, in turn, driven an apathy for change amongst decision-makers. Did you know that data on schizophrenia wasn’t even collected in the most recent National Survey of Mental Health? So we don’t even know how many people in Australia are living with this condition. 

As we say at SANE, people living with mental ill health and people like you, deserving of the same care, respect and opportunities as anyone else. We must stop looking away and take action. 

Until this happens, I will continue to walk alongside these mothers I’ve collected and amplify their rage until we stop looking away and take meaningful action.

Rachel Green is SANE’s CEO. Rachel is driven by her passion for pursuing big-impact, community-focused interventions designed with the lived experiences of individuals and families at the forefront.

SANE provides free and national phone and online counselling services, plus discussion forums for both those living with mental ill health and carers/families.

If you think you may be experiencing depression or another mental health problem, please contact your general practitioner. If you're based in Australia, 24-hour support is available through Lifeline on 13 11 14 or beyondblue on 1300 22 4636.

Featured Image: Supplied.