My name is Jonathan Drennan, I'm 27 and a few months ago, I came out of a reinforced mental closet that I'd been crouched in for quite a while. I made a video that I posted on Facebook about my difficulties with depression. I'm still trying to work out how I had the courage to do it, but I did. In a few days it got a thousand views, and I am still trying to come to terms with how it gained such a reaction in my extended social circle.
My reasoning for doing it was quite simple. I felt that as young Irish men, we were living in a generation of perfect lives polished through the rose-tinted lens of social media, that wasn’t necessarily reflective of the lives we were leading.
I felt increasingly under pressure to be responsible and open about my experiences with the illness that ultimately began at a young age growing up in an extremely happy and loving home in Belfast.
Panic and anxiety
I live in a world of perpetual internal panic and anxiety, yet I have managed to learn to become a talented amateur actor who plays a part of someone with a relatively successful career in advertising in London, who vice-captained his rugby team last year and who enjoys an active social life.
My surface level appears to be calm and confident whereas, in reality, it can sometimes be difficult to find the motivation to put one foot in front of the other. Or the fact that I sometimes catch myself watching tubes flash past at speed on panicked mornings and feel instantly horrendous when I allow myself to wonder “what if?”.
I first realised I had a serious problem when I was captaining my rugby team last year. After months of living under a black fog I couldn’t shift, I sat in the toilet cubicle of the changing room with my head in my hands for 10 long minutes on the verge of tears, angry at myself for feeling this way and resolute in my wish to hide it. I wiped the tears off with the sleeve of my jersey and led the team out on to the pitch. Nobody knew, and that was the issue at hand.
A week later, I confided in a good friend from school who is a doctor. I had an absolute fear of showing any weakness, but told him what had been happening – my lack of sleep, appetite and vigour for life. He listened patiently and his reply was direct: “You’re ticking off every box in the depression textbook. Jonathan, you need to see someone.”
The word swirled in my head. Depression. I had images of Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest or a sullen teenager locked away listening to Radiohead on a loop. That wasn't me. I was at the heart of the ignorance that I am now trying so hard to quell.
Using Facebook
My first dealing with social media was at the end of my first year at Trinity. As early adopters of Facebook, we were guilty of projecting seemingly perfect lives to one another with status updates that extolled confidence and evenings spent in the company of our hundreds of friends.
Showing the latent reality of anxiety or nerves that affected me was out of the question, and remained so.
As the years passed, we continued to document every facet of our lives, but I never once took the opportunity to openly state what I was going through with depression.
I was writing sports articles for The Irish Times in my spare time, and enjoying everything that London had to offer. I seemed to have most things going for me. What gave me a right to feel like this?
I had seen poverty on another scale teaching in Calcutta and knew only too readily there were millions of people in a worse situation than me. However, these feelings of guilt do not help; they make you feel worse. The illness thrives on irrational thought and builds on them until you are caught in a vortex of self-doubt and loathing.
When I made the video, I had little idea what I was doing. I sat alone in my living room in London and simply spoke about my struggle with the illness without cue cards or preparation, staring at a blank computer monitor.
I was completely honest to the point of rawness, from the periods of inertia, numbness, lack of appetite and sleep that I have lived with since I was at university.
I also spoke about the crucial importance of talking to people about it and the crucial support I received, whether that was initially family and friends, and then, if necessary, a doctor. I pressed send, and waited, unsure what to expect.
No wallowing
Someone once told me rather brutally that I should never wallow in the illness or let it define me. It was rough medicine but that person was completely correct. My reason for the video had to be positive; too many young Irish men were suffering in silence.
I clearly remember going to my GP. My flatmate, who is a pharmacist, had to organise the appointment, such was my fear in talking about it. Ultimately it was the best thing I have ever done. It brought clarity to the way my brain has worked for my whole life, and gave me the tools to fight back.
The reaction to my video was immediate and startling. The next morning, I found I had received 20 private messages overnight. Some were from old school friends or former team mates on university sports teams I had played for. Most had no clue that I had suffered from it, but wanted to share their own hidden experiences, and without exception the young men said they had never been able to talk about it before.
Whether it was fear, shame or a refusal to admit it in the past, they were now thankfully able to engage with that often feared word, depression.
Initially, I had a selfish fear of communicating to the world that I am a 27-year-old diagnosed depressive. It is not exactly something that you would project on a first date.
Would rugby teammates look at me differently if I got frustrated after a bad game or would old school friends suddenly dance around difficult subjects? In most cases, the reaction was one of incredible understanding and compassion.
Bottled emotions
I am not special or unique. Far from it, I suffer from an illness that millions of people go through on a daily basis. However, young Irish males are living in a generation of inherited bottled emotions that eventually tend to combust with sometimes tragic consequences.
I do not want to hear about another suicide for a completely treatable illness caused by a stubborn refusal to engage with our emotions. It is time to share our experiences, through whatever means we can. If that gives one person the courage to seek help, then so much the better.
Jonathan Drennan’s fee for this article will be donated to Aware.