logo
Cricketer Amelia Kerr on how family saved her amid mental health battle

Cricketer Amelia Kerr on how family saved her amid mental health battle

Courier-Mail3 days ago

Don't miss out on the headlines from Health. Followed categories will be added to My News.
A desire to 'protect the people I love most' initially led star WBBL cricketer Amelia Kerr to try to hide her 'unbearable sadness' from her family.
But after they surprised the young all-rounder with a lifesaving intervention that made her feel as if 'she was at her own funeral', their support became crucial to her ongoing management of anxiety and depression.
Kerr took her game to another level in 2024 to be crowned player of the tournament during New Zealand's maiden T20 World Cup title run, and the International Cricket Council's Women's Cricketer of the Year.
She was a prized pick-up for WBBL side the Sydney Sixers last season, after stints at the Brisbane Heat, and starred for the Mumbai Indians during their 2025 WPL title-winning season earlier this year.
But reaching these heights has been anything but easy for the 24-year-old, who began to bottle up her emotions in her late teens because she felt she should be grateful to be 'living out my childhood dream' playing for the White Ferns.
'I was also living with the belief that everything I did had to be perfect. I never gave myself a break,' Kerr told News Corp's Can We Talk? campaign, in partnership with Medibank.
Amelia Kerr at her family's Wellington home Picture: Hagen Hopkins
'My thoughts started to consume me and my only escape, the only place where my mind was clear and I felt like I could breathe, was training.
'I would get up early, train all day, then go to the pool at night and do recovery, so all I needed to do was come home eat, shower and try to sleep.
'I tried to avoid my family because I didn't want them to see the pain I was in.'
Kerr said she believed that her loved ones couldn't fix her anguish, and therefore didn't want to burden them.
But in 2021, the floodgates opened after she was sent home from a White Ferns training camp.
Kerr said the decision angered her at the time, but she had since realised she 'had reached a crisis point' and needed 'serious help'.
Teammate and close friend Maddy Green flew back with Kerr to her hometown of Wellington, where her parents, sister (fellow White Ferns cricketer Jess), grandparents, aunties and uncles staged a second intervention.
A 10-minute, tear-filled speech by her dad, former Wellington player Robbie Kerr, was one of 'many powerful messages that night' that Kerr said gave her hope.
'I thought, 'My family need me here and I need to try get better for them',' she said.
'My family saved my life.
'They knew I was struggling, but they didn't quite know the degree.
'I was then taken to the crisis team at hospital (where) I spoke about how I was feeling. 'Everyone in that room was in tears.'
Amelia Kerr at her family's Wellington home, with father Robbie Kerr and mother Jo Murray. Picture: Hagen Hopkins
Amelia Kerr bowls for the Sixers. (Photo by)
Weekly sessions with a psychiatrist, medication and close monitoring followed, allowing Kerr to 'feel safe for once'.
The talented bowler and batter also went public with her mental health battles when she pulled out of the White Ferns' 2021 tour of England.
While she was 'scared' to be so open, doing so 'was me standing up for something I am passionate about, so it can provide others with hope that things can get better'.
Kerr continues to manage her mental health through regular psychologist sessions, learning her 'warning signs' so she can ask for help before getting to a bad place, having a routine, practising gratitude and putting time towards activities that 'fill my cup' like exercise, being in nature, reading, playing guitar and being with loved ones.
She also created Treading Water – a series on her website, outoftherough.nz, in which 14 people share their stories of mental illness and recovery to 'help normalise those conversations'.
Importantly, Kerr and her family have built 'a relationship of trust' in which she feels comfortable to 'tell them how I feel, and for them to do the same'.
'The experiences we have shared have made us even closer and more grateful for life,' she said.
Can We Talk? is a News Corp awareness campaign, in partnership with Medibank, helping Australian families better tackle mental wellbeing. To follow the series and access all stories, tips and advice, visit our new Health section.
Originally published as Cricketer Amelia Kerr on how family saved her amid mental health battle

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

‘We never spoke about it, ever': How rock bottom triggered Sydney man's life-changing conversation
‘We never spoke about it, ever': How rock bottom triggered Sydney man's life-changing conversation

News.com.au

timea day ago

  • News.com.au

‘We never spoke about it, ever': How rock bottom triggered Sydney man's life-changing conversation

James Wright always knew there was something a bit different about his dad. 'His energy would change from time to time,' recalls the 46-year-old Sydney man. 'Our Saturday morning bike rides would stop, and he'd withdraw socially, spending hours upon hours locked in his study.' Now, James recognises his father's episodes for what they were – major depressive episodes – but at the time, he was simply made aware that there were problems with his dad's health. 'When I was about 13, I remember being picked up early from school by mum, and she took my sister and I into the hospital, where Dad had been admitted to undergo electroconvulsive shock therapy (ECT),' James said. 'I remember being warned by the doctors that Dad might not really be able to recognise us or say anything, as he'd only had the procedure the day before.' Growing up in the UK, James says despite his dad's severe struggles with mental health, conversations about it weren't commonplace. In fact, it wasn't until his twenties that James discovered his Nonna – his dad's mother – had also been admitted for ECT. Australia is in the grips of a mental health crisis, and people are struggling to know who to turn to, especially our younger generations. Can We Talk? is a News Corp awareness campaign, in partnership with Medibank, equipping Aussies with the skills needed to have the most important conversation of their life. 'She never spoke about it, ever,' he recalls. 'She lived up in the North of England in Hartlepool, and she must have been one of the first rounds of women to receive that therapy.' It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that James' own mental health began to decline in his mid-teens. According to studies, the heritability of major depressive disorder is between 30 and 50 per cent. Coupled with this, new research by News Corp's Growth Distillery with Medibank found that 28 per cent of parents of 16- to 30-year-olds have never discussed their mental wellbeing with their children. In addition, half of all parents of 16-30 year olds (49 per cent) agree that 'I do/would find it hard to tell my children I'm having challenges or struggling with my mental wellbeing', with only 39 per cent disagreeing with this statement. For James, it meant that for a long time, he struggled alone. 'I was at an all-boy's Catholic school in North London, and I was just beginning to realise that I'm gay,' he said. There were a number of challenges in his life that combined to have a big impact on his mental health, but knowing what his dad had experienced, James didn't hesitate to seek help, first from the school, and then from a GP. 'Even though I didn't discuss it with mum and dad, I think my awareness of dad's condition meant that there wasn't any shame attached to seeking help – it was more just something I knew I needed to do,' he said. 'I knew there wouldn't have been any judgment from them if they had known.' James started taking medication, something he continued throughout his years at university. His mental health was what he describes as 'up and down' for much of his twenties, including a period of intense burnout that preceded a breakdown of sorts. 'I'm an ambitious person,' he said. 'I easily turn myself into a workaholic, particularly if I'm desperately passionate about what I'm doing, and I got myself into a real mess in my mid-twenties, and I think that's probably part of the reason I decided to move to Australia and give myself a fresh start.' Once settled in Sydney, James discovered a fulfilling new career in a workplace where he thrived, and felt his mental health stabilise for years. Then, in 2014, life threw James another curve ball. He contracted HIV. While early detection and antiviral treatment soon rendered the disease undetectable (and therefore non-transmissible) in James' body, the stress and shock of the experience sent him into a spiral of shame and self-destruction. 'I was too ashamed to tell my friends or family,' he recalls. 'I was drinking too much, stopped all forms of exercise and was hiding from the world.' This self-isolation – a tactic reminiscent of his father's – had become something of a hallmark of James' mental health struggles. 'That urge to withdraw socially has been a behaviour I'd been aware of repeating at several points during my life,' says James. 'And once you get better at recognising what's going on, you realise that pulling away is the last thing you should be doing to get better, but at the time, it feels like the only option.' Over the next few years, James' self-imposed exile from Sydney (he bought an ill-fated restaurant in the country in order to justify moving away) and determination to deal with his mental health forced him to face his demons head-on. Eventually, he realised that he needed to open up to his family – and his dad in particular – if he was to properly heal. 'It was in that one conversation – where I told him about my diagnosis and explained what I'd been going through – that we were able to be truly authentic with each other,' he says. That was about six years ago. Today, James describes his dad as his 'best friend'. 'We've had some incredible, raw, beautiful conversations about mental health, our emotions, about what it was like for him when I was growing up,' says James, who speaks about his father's struggles with pure empathy and understanding. 'I completely understand how hard it was for him, and why he needed to withdraw when he did. I feel like I'm able to have a lot of that relationship back now, as an adult, that I missed out on as a kid.' James, who now works as a positive psychology/strengths coach, says embracing authentic communication with his dad has been one of the biggest gifts of his adult life, and something he has adopted as a philosophy. 'Opening up to my family was the final piece of the puzzle,' he says. 'It means I can show up completely authentically, which in turn helps my clients be vulnerable and authentic in return.'

‘Don't want to do it': Jason King's commitment after daughter Jordan Liberty's suicide death
‘Don't want to do it': Jason King's commitment after daughter Jordan Liberty's suicide death

Herald Sun

timea day ago

  • Herald Sun

‘Don't want to do it': Jason King's commitment after daughter Jordan Liberty's suicide death

Don't miss out on the headlines from Health. Followed categories will be added to My News. Jason King would give anything to have those difficult, awkward conversations with his daughter. Even the toughest talk is easier than facing the silence of her death. Mr King lost his daughter Jordan Liberty to suicide and while he would prefer to keep his grief to himself, he knows talking about it can save others. Within hours of posting on social media about his plan to make a documentary honouring Jordan, Mr King received a very special message. 'It was from a young person who saw my post just at the right time,' he told 'That person was about to go off social media, delete accounts, preparing for the end but seeing the post stopped it. 'Knowing it has already helped one person is motivating, as hard as it is for me. I really don't want to do it but the more we talk about it, the more we can make change.' Jordan Liberty died by suicide. Now her dad Jason King is making a documentary about it to help others. Mr King said there are so many things he wishes he could go back and say to 18-year-old Jordan. 'I would say I love you, I miss you every day. I'm doing this for you. I'm making this film because your life mattered,' he said. 'I want others to feel the love you couldn't always feel for yourself. You couldn't stay but your story can still help others.' He wishes he could say 'tomorrow will be better' but he knows Jordan must have had many of those better tomorrows, just not enough to keep her alive. The documentary will explore Jordan's journal notes, her friendships, her trials and triumphs. 'The doco is inspired by a desire to find out more about who she was, unpack what happened to her and really focus on how we can find joy and hope in the aftermath of something like this,' said her grieving dad who has learnt to be kind to himself. Jordan was 18. Jordan's dad's documentary will focus on 'who she was'. 'That has meant being sober for the last 18 months,' he said. 'Like so many Australians, especially blokes, I self-medicated in unhealthy ways to try to get through hard times. This increased as I grieved Jordan, and I realised that if I was going to honour her life, make it count, I needed to get real about howI was turning up in my own life. 'The difference has been profound. By being more present and having a better relationship with myself, it has improved all my other relationships, including with my two other children now aged 12 and 15, and the one I now have with Jordan's memory and how I deal with the ongoing grief. It's made the difficult talks I still have to have so much easier.' New research by News Corp's Growth Distillery with Medibank found two thirds of 18- to 30-year-olds say they would find it hard to tell their parents or older close family members that they are struggling with mental wellbeing. For that age group, parents are the number one relationship that they wish they could talk to more, with almost half saying so. Half of all parents of 16- to 30-year-olds said they would find it hard to tell their children they were having challenges or struggling with mental wellbeing. Jason King is making a documentary to help other parents and vulnerable young people. Picture: Adam Edwards He will make sure Jordan's death was not in vain. Mr King says for people living in regional Australia, the problems seem to be amplified. 'Being in a remote area or small town when we lose someone, particularly a young person, it can impact the whole community,' he said. Mr King wants other parents and young people to know it's never too late. He will make sure Jordan's death is not in vain. To support the Jordan Liberty Project visit Originally published as 'Don't want to do it': Jason King's commitment after daughter Jordan Liberty's suicide death

3am ‘curse' plaguing Aussie mums
3am ‘curse' plaguing Aussie mums

Courier-Mail

timea day ago

  • Courier-Mail

3am ‘curse' plaguing Aussie mums

Don't miss out on the headlines from Health. Followed categories will be added to My News. It was a tiny, crescent-shaped birthmark on the inside of my five-month-old's thigh that started it all. Until that point, new motherhood had for me, mostly been the kind of oxytocin-fuelled, soft-lit montage of bliss you see in Huggies ads. I had a 'good' sleeper, a great support network and a new parents group who got together for champagne brunches. We were killing it, my baby and I. Then the birthmark. Surely it had been there since he was born, but for whatever reason, I noticed it one morning and couldn't stop fixating on what it meant. Convinced it was a sign of some sinister illness, I followed the Reddit-Mumsnet-Web MD rabbit hole down to the most obscure depths of Dr Google. X SUBSCRIBER ONLY By nightfall I'd diagnosed him with a serious, degenerative neurodevelopmental disorder. My mother was staying with us at the time; she found me in the bathtub with my baby, sobbing and panicked while he stared up at me, bewildered by the fuss. A GP visit, ostensibly booked to confirm my baby's diagnosis, morphed into a referral to a psychologist and a diagnosis of health anxiety. Health anxiety, also known as illness anxiety disorder or hypochondria, is a form of anxiety that manifests as intense fear of having or developing an illness, even when there is little evidence to support the belief. Bek Day's went to the doctor worried about her baby's birthmark, but left with a referral to a psychologist for herself. Except rather than worrying about my own health, I was fixated on that of my baby. 'It's called health anxiety by proxy,' explains psychologist Anoushka Dowling, of the lesser-known condition. 'And it is the same fear and preoccupation, but this time directed at the health of your children. It is fearing the worst from minor symptoms, for example: 'what if this headache is actually a brain tumour?' According to Dowling, there are several telltale signs a person might be experiencing health anxiety by proxy. 'They will likely be constantly thinking about or talking about a particular illness or health related worry,' she says. 'They also may be checking for signs and symptoms, and usually turning to online sources to find more information. A person with health anxiety may either repeatedly seek assurance from health professionals, (oftentimes more than once because of a fear of signs being missed) OR they will avoid health professionals altogether out of fear that their worries will be validated.' Dowling says that while worrying about your child's health is, to some extent, a normal part of parenthood, fixating to the point that it causes you distress or is without evidence means there could be a problem. The advent of 'Dr Google' (where every headache is a tumour and every bruise is leukaemia) has exacerbated things she says, as has, more recently, Covid. It all sounds very familiar. While that first acute episode of health anxiety by proxy was by far the worst, there have been other periods in my nine years as a mother where it has raised its ugly head. And while therapy has helped mostly overcome the 3am curse that would keep me awake, googling in a cold sweat, it's also been a numbers game: the sheer volume of times I've assumed the worst, only to be proven wrong. On the surface, some of my more dramatic moments have been laughable, were it not for the real panic underpinning them. The time I took my second newborn to the child health nurse over concerns she yawned too much, for example. Or the ultrasound I demanded of my son's skull because I was sure it was 'too bumpy'. Bek's experience is common among parents. Health anxiety has increased in the past decade. And yes, Covid, with all its uncertainty and hand-washing and invisible threat, left me grappling for a time with a rising dread every time a runny nose or a fever spiked. It's an experience borne out in the numbers: studies clearly show that health anxiety has increased in the past decade (with a decent boost delivered by the pandemic), and while, as a relatively new condition, there aren't a lot of epidemiological data on health anxiety by proxy, experts say anecdotally they're encountering it more frequently as well. 'The sheer volume of information on the internet means that we can find something to confirm almost any fear we have,' explains Dowling. 'Increased feelings of anxiety can inhibit our brain's ability to critically analyse information and increase our tendency to look for information that confirms our fears rather than alleviates them. The internet is great for many things, but self-diagnosis is not one of them! We're way too biased about ourselves, and particularly about our children to gather and interpret information effectively.' Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Plus Created with Sketch. Instead, Dowling suggests reaching out to speak to your GP or a psychologist if you suspect you might be suffering from health anxiety by proxy. 'Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) is generally the most effective form of treatment for health anxiety, as it involves identifying distorted thinking and uses evidence-based reasoning to challenge the thoughts,' she explains. 'It will also include relaxation techniques, exposure therapy and behavioural activation to ensure that a person is still able to fully participate in life, because one of the major impacts of leaving health anxiety or healthy anxiety by proxy untreated is the risk of disengaging from everyday activities. 'You may stop socialising, take your child out of school or daycare, or simply stop engaging in activities that once bought you or your child joy, out of fear of serious illness. The excessive worry and preoccupation about illness makes it challenging to enjoy life - which is something that it is definitely possible to treat.' Originally published as Health anxiety is the 3am curse plaguing Aussie mums

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store