Why?

I seem to be spending so much time at the moment wondering, ‘why?’

Not, ‘why me?’ because everyone gets ill at times; there’s no reason to expect that I should be any different.

But.

Why is it so hard to get the treatment I need?

Why do all the mental health professionals treat me as if I’m putting this on? Is it because I turn up to appointments wearing decent clothes and with my hair brushed? Would they believe that I was ill if I wore a dirty tracksuit and greasy hair, like so many of the other people in the waiting room?

Why do they refuse to accept that I’m depressed because I can’t name a trigger: marital problems, family problems, financial problems?

Why do they keep making me talk about what’s wrong, what triggered my suicide attempt, what’s worrying me, when I’ve told them I DON’T KNOW?

Why does everyone assume that because my illness is in my brain, not my body, I must be incapable of looking after my children, or worse, a threat to them?

Why is the brain seen as different from the body anyway? Is it not a part of my body; arguably the most important part?

Why can social services act so quickly, while the mental health team act so slowly?

Why did someone I know take the liberty of reporting us not just to school, but also to social services? Why didn’t they have the guts to talk to me if they had concerns about Tom? More to the point, if it was who I suspect, why does she hate me so much that she feels justified in tearing our family apart?

Why am I not allowed to know who it was? Why do they get protected, and yet there’s no protection for me against their allegations?

Why is there still so much stigma around mental illness?

Why couldn’t the headteacher speak the words ‘depression’ or ‘suicide’ or ‘mental health’ out loud when we met her yesterday? Why did she talk euphemistically about me being ‘unwell?’

Why is it okay for her to admit that my mental health means they’re on hyper-alert for any signs of anything untoward going on with my children? Would they be scrutinising them in the same way if I had diabetes or a broken leg?

Why is she allowed to keep a file on us and not disclose their concerns until we literally turn up and sit in her office?

Why can I not just ‘man up’ and get on with the business of living with depression like so many other people do?

And most of all, why didn’t I make a better job of what I set out to do nearly two weeks ago?