Aisling
Play therapist, Intergenerational trauma and depression
I grew up in Ireland in the nineties and noughties. There was a huge stigma surrounding mental health when I was growing up, and recent studies suggest mental health issues are still perceived as being seen by the public as some kind of personal failure, despite many advancements in recent years.
The stigma seemed to go beyond a sense of failure in my family. My family has a traumatic history with mental health and the provision of mental health services, which often resulted in being sentenced to an asylum for life.
Throughout my life I witnessed family members suffering with anxiety, depression, personality disorders, and more. Yet the fear of “the mad house” meant most never sought help, never reached out to the services. They were fearful of being medicated, of their autonomy being relinquished in some way. This fear remains very present for them even today.
When I first realised I suffer from depression, around age 15, I decided to break this pattern and look for help. My first port of call was my local GP. He immediately set about creating a prescription for medication for me. There was no conversation about my depression, how I felt, any potential causes or triggers. I was handed a prescription and was told that would help “keep me right”.
When I went to collect the prescription from my local pharmacy, the pharmacist called me into his office. He told me that this drug is not usually prescribed to someone so young, and asked me if I was ok. I sat and chatted with him for maybe 20 minutes with a Capri Sun, and I felt much better. Now, as a trained therapist, I know that naming my feelings tamed them.
I was very lucky in the adults who acted as supportive role models for me when I was a child, and this instance was no different. In sitting there and actually asking me how I was feeling, and giving me the space and time to talk, the pharmacist provided me with something I had never before had: a space to be listened to non-judgmentally. I was raised in a chaotic home by people who never really should have been parents. I had to grow up very quickly and I think the adults in the outside world saw in this the cry for help it was.
The pharmacist offered to fill the prescription for me, but I told him I did not think I would need the pills. I left his office feeling lighter and more positive about my prospects.
Though medication undoubtedly has a place in the treatment plans for some people, I have found that lifestyle changes and talking have best supported me. I am very fortunate to have an amazing network of friends and loved ones who provide me with the support I need to get through my darkest days.
In 2014 I embarked on my journey to becoming a Play Therapist. My family, with whom I was still in contact, responded with fear and disdain. They spoke of how they could not understand why I would want to "prod and poke around the minds of others". They did not understand my need to help others, children in particular, and they were fearful of "all that I was stirring up". This led to a brief crisis in faith: Why did I want to stir things up? Why did I strive to understand my own mental health struggles? Why do I always have to be the black sheep?
I worked through these concerns in counselling, and becoming a Play Therapist remains my biggest accomplishment.
Breaking the cycle and seeking treatment was not easy, and for many years it remained a struggle as my family would roll their eyes at my being "so emotional", they would tell me to "grow up" and to "stop with all that". Living in Hong Kong gives me the physical distance from my family to fully realise who I am and what I want. I am now estranged from my immediate family. It was the final step needed to protect my mental health and wellbeing. Being estranged from my family does not mean I do not love them, nor does it mean I am not grateful for the good times. But it does allow me the space to live my life the way I want to.
Breaking the cycle of intergenerational trauma is the most difficult thing I have ever done. Change is scary and some patterns are so ingrained that they elude immediate detection. It has required much exploration and compassion. And it may never have been possible without working through my traumas in counselling, without training to be a therapist, without living far from home, without the amazing support network I have in place. Depression is something that I know I will live with forever, but I do not live with it alone.
In my role as volunteer at TNN, I hope to provide that safe space for others to feel supported through their moments of difficulty. I feel privileged that I am in such a position.
