IN SEPTEMBER OF this year, I published my memoir called “The Best Is Yet To Come”, a book about my journey through dark spells of depression.
Within those pages I described how I’ve had countless suicidal thoughts and feelings over the last five years. Twice those feelings became a suicidal urge. I am writing this piece for TheJournal.ie today because those two lowest moments came around Christmas.
And I want to strongly encourage anyone reading this piece to mind themselves during the festive season, but also to look out for friends and family.
Our outward masks
Christmas can be a time when many feel obligated to be happy and project the best version of ourselves onto family and friends. As a young male and an inter-county footballer, consumed by deep waves of depression, I tried to keep a smile on my face to paper over the cracks when depression had taken hold of me. But on the inside I was in a complete state of flux.
In the very first chapter of my book, I describe what it was like to stand in my local pub in Bailieborough, Co Cavan, surrounded by my closest friends yet feel completely alone and depressed.
“As the hours ticked by, I grew more and more self-conscious. I was expending most of my energy forcing the tears in my eyes back down the pipes they had risen up, a special talent I had developed. The familiar voices that surrounded me intertwined naturally, and as the many strands of conversations and stories flowed effortlessly from my friends, I fought the sporadic urge to cry. Unfortunately, they weren’t the tears of laughter that everyone else seemed to be sharing. Everyone else stood there interacting effortlessly, engaging and mingling with one another, which only added to my self-consciousness. Why couldn’t I feel like them? Why couldn’t I enjoy my Christmas? Everyone else made it look so easy.”
I was embarrassed and ashamed for feeling the way I did when everyone else seemed so content and carefree. I did my best to reassure my mates that everything was going well in my life. I wanted them to think I was thriving when the reality was that I was barely surviving.
Struggling
In my drunken state, I convinced myself that quietly slipping away from the celebrations was the best thing for me and for the others, because I didn’t want to be a drain on their night. I knew I couldn’t keep the act up for one more second. All the energy I had spent keeping up my act had taken its toll.
“I wandered out of the town and past the fields, taking no heed of time, drifting farther and farther from the party and my friends. I went deeper into the darkness and cold, happy in the knowledge that every step I took seemed like one more away from the anxiety and pain I had been enduring all evening. I wanted to feel happy for a few minutes. Even just for one minute. All I wanted was a short reprieve from my inner torture. Please just go away and let me enjoy Christmas like everybody else. Can you not let me be happy?”
Full of alcohol and hopelessness, I wandered through the countryside of Cavan questioning the purpose of my life and wondered if there any point in me staying in this world any longer. I was zapped out of my disillusionment by a car coming towards me with its headlights ablaze.
“I clearly imagined throwing myself in front of the oncoming car and letting it knock me out of this world. I wasn’t dreaming or, more accurately, having a nightmare. Jump. Bang. Gone.”
On that night, I took half a step towards the middle of the road, but then I flung myself behind a nearby wall and slumped miserably to the ground. It took all my willpower not to burst into tears.
Depression doesn’t thrive in the realm of logic or rationale, and once again I had let it fool me into thinking that I was the only person in the world not enjoying the Christmas season. However, the reality is I was not alone and I now know that my family and friends would have rallied around me if I had just been honest with them.
They have been an amazing source of support to me as I undertook my journey of recovery. That has led me to my first sustained period of wellness for some time.
Don’t forget to look after yourself this festive season. Don’t feel obligated to wear a mask like I did for far too long. Trust me, I had to learn the hard way that was not the way to deal with times of difficulty. This is Christmas, not Halloween.
In a world dominated by consumerism and expensive gifts, I think the biggest gift we can give to anyone we care about is our compassion, empathy, time and attention. Don’t be afraid to ask those around how they are and really mean it. Pause to hear the answer. Have real talks and meaningful conversations.
Let’s ask questions of each other and talk about what is going on in our lives, regardless of whether things are going brilliantly, okay or if you are struggling in some way. Let’s come together and mind each other. Let’s care for each other. Let’s support each other. Let’s talk but also listen.
Alan O’Mara is the founder of Real Talks and the author of the best-selling memoir ‘The Best Is Yet To Come.’ A current Gaelic footballer with Cavan and an Ulster U21 champion, he became the first active senior inter-county player to go public about experiencing depression in 2013.
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