Mental Health Awareness

Mental health awareness week this year carries extra weight for me. It coincides with the 30th anniversary of my Mum's sudden death — she was 57, I was in my early twenties at university, and I felt invincible. There was no known cause of death, which made navigating grief harder in some ways. When there's no reason why, the mind searches endlessly for answers that don't exist.

Getting through that time, whilst supporting my Dad and wider family, was the most challenging of my life — until 2023. When I doubted my ability to carry on, my Dad sent me a card. In it he'd written simply: "I've been looking at old school reports. They say 'has the extraordinary ability to bounce back when things go wrong with total resilience.' Things haven't changed have they?"

I read it and realised that no, things hadn't really changed. That word — resilient — has followed me ever since.

We talk about resilience a lot. In exams, at work, in family life. We say "if only they were more resilient" as if it's something you can simply find down the back of the sofa. In reality it takes enormous work, and it looks different for everyone.

My own resilience was pushed to its absolute limits when my child experienced a mental health crisis. When that happens, your world stops. Systems step in briefly — then step away. I was told to take him to A&E, to encourage him back into school. But school was the very place causing the crisis. Professionals have since admitted that advice made things worse. What he needed wasn't more resilience. He needed time away from the environment causing him harm. He needed space to heal. Then he would find his resilience.

The breakdown was severe. He couldn't leave the house — some days not even his room. And neither could I. I became his everything: carer, friend, tutor, counsellor, and mental health support system. We both spiralled into places I didn't know existed.

It was at that lowest point that I found my Dad's card again. And I realised — this was the moment it had really been written for. Somehow, I had to find that resilience and start pulling myself back up, because if I didn't, I couldn't pull him back either.

That, to me, is the only time I've truly understood what resilience means. Not bouncing back quickly. Not being strong. It's the ability to take one tiny step forward when every part of you screams not to. When you can't see if the steps will matter, or whether you'll make it out at all.

The fact that he followed me out of that dark place makes him the most resilient person I know. The fact that he can now, on some days, leave the house and come to a football match — that is as significant to us as flying to the moon.

Supporting a child through mental illness is a lifelong journey, and it can be an incredibly lonely one. To every parent and carer out there showing up for a young person in crisis: I see you. The resilience you show every single day, in every tiny step forward, is extraordinary.

You are not alone in this — and neither are they.

If you or your family are affected by any of the issues raised, organisations such as Young Minds (youngminds.org.uk) and Mind (mind.org.uk) offer support and guidance for both young people and those who care for them.