A few weeks ago, my teenage daughter tried to end her own life

On a Friday night in March, our beloved bright, super sporty, blue cheese-loving 14-year-old daughter tried to end her own life. I’m hoping in the coming weeks to be able to sleep and eat again. None of our family have even begun to process this trauma, but in the wee small hours when sleep evades me, when our daughter sleeps next to me, I realise I have learned some lessons.

It was well into the early hours of the Saturday when the ambulance finally left with our daughter, and her dad followed in our car.

It was another several hours later that I finally got her traumatised little brother to sleep. I sat on our bed in floods of tears, numb and absolutely terrified about whether she was going to be “OK”. In the quiet of our house, that had been very full and noisy with amazing, deeply compassionate police and ambulance folk, my head and was flooded with enormous, heavy emotions that were far too much to handle. I’m ashamed to say that one of the overwhelming feelings was shame.

How could this possibly happen to our beautiful family, my firstborn, and will we be shunned by our community because we couldn’t keep our daughter safe? Had we not met her most basic needs?

I texted a few close friends to see if anyone was awake. I think it was after 2am, and one friend did call me but she was out at a bar and it didn’t quite seem the right time for a heavy conversation.

I called my aunty in Chicago – for her it was a sociable hour – and I said those words out loud. Then I had a long conversation with my best friend in London while I waited for word from the hospital. I realise now that by talking openly the feeling of shame became less savage.

On the Sunday, the girlfriend who had been out on Friday night bought us a basket full of treats from the market and wrote an email for me (I couldn’t function even at that level) to let work know what had happened. Several beautiful humans who received that email sent our family a number of delicious meals and have been checking in to let me know they’re thinking of us. Not only did being open about what was happening in my family elicit generous help, it further reduced the shame.

Later that Sunday, I texted a friend who lives a few doors down. She’s the mum of our son’s dear mate and I wanted to let her know.

She arrived a few minutes later in floods of tears and we sat quietly together on the deck away from kids’ ears. She revealed that her family had a similar experience a few years ago and that their daughter was now thriving. With such kindness, she told me we could connect the girls and that our daughter could go for a walk with a delightful now 20-something and see with her own eyes that it is possible to recover from feelings of hopelessness.

When I have shared what is happening in our family, quite a few people have spoken openly about their own experiences. I now understand that this is so much more common than I’d thought. On March 28, chair of Mental Health Australia Matt Berriman wrote in The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald that every day in Australia 178 people feel like they can’t be here any more.

Sharing has also resulted in several of our closest friends stepping in as aunties, taking our girl stand-up paddleboarding, many messages of support from a uni friend who went through something similar and a sleepover with another of my closest girlfriends. Knowing she is loved and valued by her village is giving her extra ballast.

None of these acts of kindness would have happened had we not been open. All those 178 families who experience this every day need to know that it’s not that there’s something wrong with their family – this is way more common than most realise.

But even more importantly, openness about mental health struggles encourages more discussion which helps struggling people feel they’re not alone. My observation is that this is changing, but not quickly enough.

Please talk to people around you, it helps to normalise struggles with mental health.

I know that many people would have taken the exact opposite approach had they been in my shoes. I acknowledge completely that how one responds is a very personal decision. My innate need was to connect that night. I share my family’s experience so others feel less alone and know that being open about mental health can bring healing.

*This is published with our daughter’s consent

Support is available from Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636, Butterfly Foundation on 1800 334 673 and Lifeline on 13 11 14.