The tragic news that the former England cricketer Graham Thorpe took his own life will, at least temporarily, restore the subject of mental health to the national psyche. Then, as is always the way with these things, it will all be forgotten. Life, or a version of it, goes on.
Thorpe’s widow, Amanda, gave an interview with The Times in which she spoke of the terrible anxiety and depression he suffered, which eventually led to his suicide. And there is one particular line that stands out to me: “Graham was renowned as someone who was very mentally strong on the field and he was in good physical health. But mental illness is a real disease and can affect anyone.” The two words that matter most are “mental illness“.
Heartbreakingly, Thorpe believed that his family would be better off without him and acted upon that. This could not have been further from the reality, that he was a much-loved husband, father and friend. But I go back to those two words. Mental illness.
In these so called enlightened times, there is still a widespread belief that conditions like anxiety and depression are little more than being a little sad. it was only back in April when the then Health Secretary Mel Stride suggested that some people who were labelled as having “serious mental health conditions” were simply struggling with the “ups and downs of life“. Pint-sized loser (and former prime minister) Rishi Sunak referred to the “over medicalisation of the challenges and worries of every day life“. When two of the senior politicians of the land demean people’s mental health challenges, more than suggesting that people with anxiety and depression are essentially snowflakes who need to snap out of it, the effects on people who are ill – yes, ill – can be devastating. Words matter.
My own mental health issues are relatively minor by comparison to Graham Thorpe. But having a lived experience of depression and anxiety I can imagine how he came to think that way. I have always felt a failure in life and no amount of kindness from others will alter that. The difference with me is that while I have often had suicidal thoughts, which continue to this day, thoughts are all they are. I still want to wake up for another day, regardless of how low I am feeling. Not everyone is as lucky as me, which in itself causes a guilt trip. It makes me think of my grandad’s well-meant words when he told me to “snap out of it” when the very young me was feeling low.
Graham Thorpe had extensive treatment, including two years ago a stay in an Intensive Care Unit (ICU). This indicates just how ill he was, because for those of us who muddle by with things like severe clinical depression, my mental illness, not of choice, there is nothing. Nothing at all. As I have said before, I have now given up trying to get treatment for my poor mental health because, beyond antidepressants, there lies nothing. But sadly the ICU was not enough for Thorpe. My heart aches for him and the family he has left behind.
14 years of Conservative government has razed NHS mental health services to the ground and the quotes above from Sunak and Stride illustrate perfectly accurately their feelings on the matter. People aren’t suffering from anxiety and depression. They just need to “snap out of it“. It’s just the “ups and downs of life“. Nonsense, of course, and the new Labour government simply has to rebuild mental health services for those who need them.
My local medical centre frequently checks on many aspects of my physical health. I am having blood pressure and blood tests and I am on so much medication I could probably open my own pharmacy, yet what has been the main reason I have seen a GP throughout my life? Why, it’s my mental health, and guess what? No doctor has ever called to ask how my clinical depression is coming along. Not once, ever. I am lucky, very lucky, that I only have severe clinical depression and that I haven’t acted on suicidal thoughts.
My guilt stems from how I feel when I hear stories like Graham Thorpe’s. What have I got to feel sorry for myself about? I need to pull myself together, I guess. That should do it.
Thorpe’s daughter told The Times why the family shared the news of her dad’s suicide: “We are not ashamed of talking about it. There is nothing to hide and it is not a stigma. We were trying to help him get better before and trying to protect him, which is why we said nothing. This is the time now to share the news, however horrible it is. We’ve wanted to be able to talk and share and we’d now like to raise awareness, too.” To my mind, this is an act of extreme bravery and generosity. A family suffering the most awful loss in the most terrible of circumstances and yet they somehow manage to think of others. There is even talk of them setting up a foundation in Thorpe’s name in order to help other sufferers. If anything good can come of this, then perhaps that might be it.
I admit I was ashamed of talking about my mental health until much later in life, not least because it was unquestionably a stigma and in some quarters I believe it still is. I have spoken and written at length about the abuse and bullying I suffered while working for the British Red Cross, despite or perhaps even because having declared my mental health issues in both my job application and in my interview. If you are suffering from what you believe is mental illness, then do seek medical advice and do talk to family and trusted friends, and if you trust them enough, your employers. Just because the British Red Cross knowingly made my mental health worse doesn’t mean that your employer would. Above all, please just hang on in there.
Graham Thorpe was a high class cricketer, seemingly with everything in life a man could want. But in the end, the one thing he no longer wanted was his life. I repeat: anxiety and depression are illnesses. The only thing is that in our country we do not regard mental illness as important as physical illness. Until recently, we had a prime minister who seemed to suggest that mental illness didn’t exist at all.
When Thorpe’s story has slipped from view, away from the headlines, yesterday’s news; we who remain must keep up the fight. Can you imagine if we treated cancer with the same indifference as we do mental health? Of course you can’t. But mental health is serious, too, and it can be fatal. In memory of everyone who has left us before their time with poor mental health, we keep banging on about it for as long as it takes. Too many people are suffering, too many have died. We must never forget them.
