The Ripple Effect of Mental Health
An anonymous guest article
If we had it our way, every week we’d be sharing a story from within our community. This week, we have another compelling read on the ripple effect of mental health, and if you’d like to add to the momentum, please email hello@runningforresilience.com
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The Ripple Effect of Mental Health
An anonymous guest article
Visiting my family over the Christmas break recently brought back a flood of memories. Every year, there’s always a bit of worry about whether my brother will attend and what his behaviour will be like.
It made me reflect on how far we've come as a society in addressing the stigma around mental health, with organisations like R4R leading the way. It’s not a question of whether life would have been different, it undoubtedly would have been.
Over 30 years ago, the world was a very different place for those dealing with mental health disorders. My brother, eight years older than me, seemed to have a happy and healthy childhood from the stories I’ve heard and the photos I’ve seen. He excelled in swimming and rugby and was popular among his peers.
Growing Up in Chaos
I would say there was a lot of love in our family and there still is. We were a happy family amidst it all. I won’t go into detail about how things unfolded for my siblings, they too felt the effects.
My childhood was marked by chaos and darkness surrounding my brother’s struggles. My mum, raising the four of us without external support, was lost in her attempts to find help for him. She managed everything on her own while my dad focused on work and studying mechanical engineering. As conservative Christians, my parents had no knowledge or understanding of drug use.
The beginning of everything was when my brother started believing that people were after him. Often highly stressed, my mum initially thought it was something at school and asked my older brother to watch out for him. But he came back and said, It’s like it’s all in his head. Everyone is fine with him.
One of my earliest memories is waking up to my brother crying, confiding in a support worker about the horrible voices he was hearing. There were frequent fights when my dad discovered drug paraphernalia pieces of cut up hoses were often found around.
During that time, my dad was largely absent, burying himself in work, while my mum and oldest brother bore the brunt of the situation. My oldest brother even stepped into a parental role at times. He was really there for my mum. The amount of times he would take me to and from school, for a swim, helped me with school projects. He was always so happy and made us laugh.
As my other brother’s behaviour became more erratic around age 14, it became impossible to hide. Friends distanced themselves, and many children weren’t allowed to visit our home or encouraged to hang out with me. Those who remained loyal became invaluable, as did the Catholic Church.
Despite my differing views on some of their beliefs, they provided unwavering support for our family during our most difficult years. They constantly stood up for our family and for me when I was in trouble at school. They were always there and always have been. I find Mass a calming place in a fast-paced world. No matter where you are in the world, the Catholic Church remains the same. It hasn’t really changed, It offers a stable foundation when the world is not.
My brother was eventually diagnosed with drug-induced psychosis. But instead of stopping, he delved deeper into substance use. One day, he expressed a desire to end his life.
My dad made the harsh decision to ask him to leave our home, fearing that my sister or I might find him in a dire state. It was painful, but at the time, there seemed to be no better solution. For years, he lived in a group home but visited us often. To this day, he stopped taking drugs that cause hallucinations, while finding ones that he could enjoy. If anything it's worse when he isn't on something, we now see a very angry side. Through all the years my brother had been off drugs, he had functioned well with the occasional blip.
I came back from overseas and I didn't recognise him. He lost a huge amount of weight, his face had completely sunken and he wasn't making much sense. That's when I realised he was never coming back from this. My mum and brother are always hopeful. But I think his brain is now completely fried.
Witnessing the Dark Side of Vulnerability
During those vulnerable years, I witnessed how some people exploit others' struggles as opportunists who prey on families at their lowest points. It’s a harsh reality but also a powerful reminder of the importance of understanding, and strong support systems.
Unfortunately, when drugs are involved, they often bring people from very dark places into your life. In my experience, when a family or individual is vulnerable, there are those who see it as an opportunity to take advantage. This happens in many forms, like a con artist preying on a grieving family member.
As a society, we need to step up for one another, even if we’re not close or directly involved. Simply keeping an eye out for vulnerable families and individuals can make a difference. Be there for each other.
At that time, I was in constant trouble at school. Back then, if you had ADHD, it was often blamed on bad parenting, with people saying you just needed to be “smacked into line.” I don’t think many people today truly understand what that was like. For me, school was incredibly difficult. Teachers often seemed focused on asserting their authority, and when they backed me into a corner, I’d instinctively come out swinging. It never ended well for me
On that note, I am happy things have changed to try and work with kids today and not against them.
There’s more effort to work with kids today instead of against them. People often call kids today “snowflakes,” and while it’s true that things may have swung too far in some ways, I think many don’t fully understand why these changes were necessary.
In those days, I was regularly told to stay back during lunch to catch up on work I hadn’t done during class. Teachers would get so frustrated with me.
One day I could do the work, the next, I couldn’t.
I was often humiliated in front of the entire class. I'm sure that they found me difficult, as I was always talking back.
At the time, I didn’t think it affected me, I just got worse. While my parents were informed at times, I think they just had so much going on and just couldn't be there.
Later in life, though, the impact became clear.
My anxiety grew to the point where it stopped me from doing things I was perfectly capable of. If I was put on the spot or asked a question I knew the answer to, my mind would go blank, and I’d panic. My thoughts would fog over, and I couldn’t work things out.
As an adult, I’ve often heard people say I have more confidence than anyone they know, yet I also have more self-doubt than anyone they know. That’s something I’ve had to work through, and I’m proud to say I’ve finally come out the other side.
I had a deep passion for a particular sport; it was my escape and something that came naturally to me. I dedicated a lot of time to practicing and improving, assuming I would naturally progress into the elite training program. However, I was told that my behaviour was a concern. They doubted my ability to listen and argue back with instructors, which made them hesitant to accept me. Looking back now, I can understand their perspective, but at the time, it was devastating.
I felt like my entire world was falling apart. Instead of seeing it as an opportunity to reflect and improve, I internalised it as a failure in every aspect of my life.
This led to a very dark period for me. I was only 11 years old, and my thoughts became incredibly heavy. I remember listening to songs like "Something in the Way" and "Dumb" by Nirvana on repeat, which mirrored how I felt inside. Things got worse as time went on. By Year 7, I had started partying a lot, running away from home, and staying at different friends’ houses. One thing that doesn’t leave me, is when I came home and would see my mum who hadn’t slept, she was ill looking. I cringe when I think of those times. At how shit I was to her.
I never really said sorry to her. I am really sorry for those times.
The Turning Point
Eventually, I needed help. I was out of control. I was sent away to a behavioural school that provided much needed structure to my life. That program, that place, changed everything for me. I would say it saved my life. I'm not sure if life could have been a different story.
While I didn’t gain much traditional education during those years, I learned other invaluable lessons. The biggest source of help came from the other teens I met there. We were all going through our own struggles, but we understood each other.
For the first time, I didn’t feel alone, and that sense of connection was incredibly powerful. Sadly places like that may not exist today, likely due to liability concerns, which is a real shame.
When I left, my dad had completed his mechanical engineering degree and was managing a power station far from the life I knew. It gave me a fresh start and a few stable years. However, because I had missed three whole years of school, I struggled to keep up academically in Years 10 and 11.
At 16, my dad made it clear that if I wasn’t going to attend school, I needed to work. So I decided to move out and start over in a new place on my own
A Lasting Impact
The ripple effects of mental health challenges on families are often underestimated. While it’s encouraging to see shifting attitudes and greater openness around these issues, much work remains to normalise seeking help and creating systems where families feel truly supported. Mental health is not just about the individual, it’s a shared journey that profoundly impacts loved ones.
Even now, my mum and oldest brother continue to bear the weight of my brother’s struggles. They’ve done everything they can for him, offering support, care, and countless second chances. Yet, heartbreakingly, they are often the ones who receive the worst treatment from him. My mum will sometimes say 'he had been head tackled, he even became concussed.' like this was the reason. She seems to put herself through unnecessary guilt to this day.
While I love my brother. I struggle to understand, he must have always felt alone. I too have felt alone, yet I couldn't think of anything worse. I know these feelings are complex, and addiction is often tied to deep-rooted pain or circumstances I may never fully grasp.
My hope is for a world where addiction is approached with both accountability and compassion, one that prioritises prevention, education, and resources to support recovery for individuals and their families.
Thank you for writing this. You know who you are.