Untitled…

Kate Fitzgerald. Image sourced from The Irish Times Website

But for the grace of god, go I… 

I’m not a believer but I’ve always had a fondness for that saying. It reminds me that I am lucky, that I have... until now... survived. What happens tomorrow is an unknowable, uncontrollable, unquantifiable thing but for now, at his moment, I am safe. When I read the story of Kate Fitzgerald I felt for a brief time that I was reading about someone I knew and I was struck still and silent. Our paths had walked so closely that I could have tipped my cap at her as she passed. As I read of her suicide, I said goodbye and felt regret for this woman, who had walked so close and yet never met. 

Kate Fitzgerald was an accomplished young woman, and at the age of 25, her achievements far outshone my own. She and I were different ages, we looked nothing alike and, from what I have read, our upbringings were very different. The only way in which I could say we were similar was that we were both women, in a similar phase of life, keeping our heads above water with one foot weighted by depression. When you meet, or even just read about someone whose experience mirrors your own, there is a kind of respect, a marker set down that says ‘I see you’. 

Often, and this is especially true of the workplace, that can be a frightening discovery, that someone knows your dirty little secret. Instead of an instinct to bond with this person, we sometimes distance ourselves, for fear of being uncovered and singled out as The One with Mental Illness. Other times, we make a song and dance about our problems, in an attempt to shine a light on it and thereby lessen its hold over us. We play the fool and shake our bells in the hope that our family, friends and colleagues will be distracted from the dark and vicious sides of our personality. Some lash out, they blame the world and everyone in it for their woes. They push against and fight anyone they feel might come close to pushing their buttons. They can be destructive and dangerous, vulnerable and frightened all at once.

Then there are others who take all of that violence, all their loathing, all of their hurt and anger and turn it inward. When they fail, they feel it like nobody else. When they misstep, they turn on themselves a terrible kind of retribution. It is like living with domestic abuse, except your abuser lives with you always, inside your head, you are your own torment. 

 

I was 13 when I tried to cut myself for the first time. I was reminded of this when I watched a video by Jonah Mowry. In case you haven’t watched it, it features a boy turned inside out by emotion at having to return to a school where he felt isolated. He doesn’t speak in the video, he holds up flash cards with his story written on them, while great wet tears roll down his face. The card toward the end of the video is the part that gets me. 

I’m not going anywhere… 

In that moment, you witness a battle. The overwhelming desire to take yourself out of the game, versus your human instinct for survival, the part that is still holding on to the people you love in this life. It’s a moment of terrible beauty, and bravery. He makes the decision to stay for a while longer. It’s interesting to note that he posted a second video where he tried to reassure some of the millions of viewers who had sent him messages of support, by explaining that the original video was a filmed at a particularly dark period, but that he was ‘now’ emotionally in a better place. After this latter video was posted, a backlash began where he was called a liar, among other things. Reading through some of the many abusive comments on YouTube is fascinating. He is called a faggot and a liar because he made, what they believed, was a fake video about the effects of bullying. I don’t think I need to explain the irony. 

There is a parallel here, to the way in which the story of Kate Fitzgerald was treated. The initial story published by The Irish Times, heart breaking and real, struck a chord with people who had experienced depression. It haunted those who read it and it instigated some discussion on the treatment of people with mental health issues in the workplace. Unfortunately, the story and resulting articles were either removed or redacted because her former employer or their legal team saw something libellous in the article. We don’t know what happened between The Communications Clinic and The Irish Times, we only know that a letter was issued by the Times apologising to TCC for any perceived allegations or untruths in Kate’s letter. 

This, to me, sounded exactly like the Jonah Mowry story in that Kate was being called out as a liar for highlighting bullying in the workplace, while a national newspaper appeared to be bullied into silence and retraction. Surely, the reaction by TCC only highlighted the issue further. Had Kate survived, how would they have treated the story? Would she have been sued? Would she have been fired? Her letter was posted anonymously, so if she had lived to see it published, would her identity have eventually become known? We know this much, talking about your experiences of mental health and bullying at work can get you into some very hot water indeed. Perhaps a better strategy would have been for TCC to take a softer approach, and perhaps issued a statement of support to Kate’s family, as well as some financial aid to suicide and depression advocacy groups.

I recently read a guide to etiquette when discussing suicide online, I never realised there was such a thing as etiquette when you are dealing with suicide. These guidelines suggest I shouldn’t tell you that I thought about taking my own life many, many times and in particular I’m not supposed to talk about how I contemplated doing it. Although, when I think about it, I’m always careful to consider the least traumatic death for my loved ones to have to deal with. I have worked through hundreds of scenarios but these are some of the most common...

• Crashing my car into a tree or ditch. 
• Crashing my car into oncoming traffic (not an option, thought I… I would only take some unfortunate with me). 
• Cutting my wrists (too painful and messy). 
• A drug overdose (that was how my father did it and my brother had to find him on his birthday, so that's a no). 
• Jumping from cliff in the Wicklow Gap as it has a really nice view (again, leaves other people with a mess to take care of).

Like Jonah, I can say now that I am a better place. I try not to think about the ways in which I want to die, but the reasons I have to stay alive.

• I think of how I love my husband so dearly, and I could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and financially burdened with a house in negative equity. (Insurance companies don’t pay out if you commit suicide). 
• I think of my brothers and mother having to relive the trauma of my father’s death. 
• I think about my nieces and nephew having to explain what happened to their aunt, to strangers. 
• I think about my friends, how they would always wonder what they could have done differently (though, if I know them, they would have one hell of a funeral). 
• Mostly its stubbornness, I think that if I give in to this illness I will have conceded a victory to the same bitch that made me miserable for so many years. 

Depression is a long war, you don’t battle every day, but when battles come they are merciless, and often take more than can be restored but no matter how bravely and fiercely they are fought, sometimes, as in Kate’s case, the illness wins out. 600 people in Ireland lose that war every year. Think about that…

600 people die from suicide every year in Ireland. 

That is more than road deaths, which claims around 212 lives annually, and just less than deaths from drug abuse, which are about 640. There are 20,000 known sufferers of depression in Ireland. These statistics are not from some foreign think tank with no relevance to our little island. This is Ireland, right now.

That's me

 I don’t have solutions, I don’t have answers, I’m just one of the 20,000 and I am not going anywhere. I hope Kate’s family are doing OK and hope that if anything good can come from the passing of their little girl, it’s that she spoke to people who are going through the same thing and made the country stop and look at how we treat people affected by depression.


Update: If you're affected by any of the things I've written here please talk to someone about it. Here are some organisations that can help.

Pieta House The Centre for the Prevention of Self-Harm or Suicide 
Pieta Ballyfermot, Dublin 10, 
Pieta House, Canon Troy House,
Chapelizod Hill Road, Ballyfermot, Dublin 10
+353 1 6200020
+353 87 6903236
mary@pieta.ie

Samaritans
112 Marlborough Street, Dublin 1, Republic of Ireland
+353 1 872 7700

3Ts  (Turn the Tide of Suicide) 1Life Suicide Helpline (Tel: 1-800-24-7-100)

Aware
72 Lower Leeson Street, Dublin 2.
+353 1 661 7211
info@aware.ie

Update 12.12.11: The Wikipedia page for Kate Fitzgerald was deleted some time between my publishing this post and today. I've left the link active on this page just to point that out.

Update 16.12.11: Broadsheet publises a response from Kate's parents Tom and Sally Ann Fitzgerald describing their meetings and subsequent communication with Peter Murtagh, opinion editor of the Irish Times, and their feelings on their handling of Kate's case.

"We have lost Kate forever, please help us ensure that her final message lives on"

Update 18.12.11 A source on twitter posts the unedited article written by Kate. I have reposted the image here in the event that it's taken down.