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

News.com.au

10 hours ago

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.'