#IAmAReason

The government’s announced that they’re cutting mental health funding. Well fuck them.
I nearly killed myself at least four times from when I was thirteen to sixteen. The only thing that stopped me was I didn’t want my little brother or sister to be the one to find me. I still consider myself lucky though, because I’m here. I’m still alive.
I’ve always been open about my mental health issues. Why shouldn’t I be? I have anxiety and depression, two illnesses which I will have for the rest of my life. I sometimes find it difficult to be around people, and my brain doesn’t work right a lot of the time. I’m going through a depressive episode right now.
But here’s the thing. I can’t get help. I can’t. Because the local Jigsaw service is closed to drop ins until next week because of waiting lists. Because the local A&E has a history of sending people home telling them to "take an overdose". I can honestly say right now that I’m not actively suicidal, but if a car drive towards me on the way to work tomorrow, I don’t know if I’d jump out of the way. But this is my baseline level of normal. And this normal sucks.
Through the HSE I’ve seen a psychiatrist (twice, for ten minutes each time), and a psychologist (for six weeks, who was used to doing CBT on a child rather than a seventeen year old). I only saw that psychologist because I publicly announced my mental health problems to the world - my suicidal ideation, my eating disorder, everything - to shame then Minister James Reilly into doing something.
But there’s one more reason this cut by Leo Varadkar hurts. Because his dad is the one who got through to a scared fifteen year old who wanted to die. Who delayed his retirement so that I could be stable on my medication. Who honestly saved my life.
So thanks, Leo. Thanks for shitting on your dads legacy.