‘I didn’t realise for a very long time that I had in effect been a carer. I worked in the mental health system for years without acknowledging the fact’

‘All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’ – Tolstoy

I grew up in a uniquely unhappy family, which, as it turns out, is not an unusual experience, writes mental health worker Jonathan ‘Jo’ Clack.

My mother had a lifelong mental health problem. She was treated by various mental health professionals and systems over many years.

Diagnosis was vague, usually something around depression, anxiety, mood disorder and alcohol use. If she was being supported today, I would think a diagnosis of emotionally unstable personality disorder (EUPD) would be the closest descriptor.

What we saw as a family was someone whose mood could rapidly change with no apparent reason. A creative and intelligent person who found it hard to find any consistent expression for their talents and who could make friends with great enthusiasm but seemingly unable to maintain friendship.

My dad described the home atmosphere as ‘walking on eggshells’ because you would never know what to expect. A sunny, positive and fun day could explode in a storm of anger, frustration, petty slights and verbal abuse. You would not know how long things might last – a day, weeks or months.

She could leave the home to set up a new life, only to return months later.

When my mum’s mood calmed and was more stable, she seemed to have no insight or recollection. It seemed to her that it was other people who had the problem.

I guess this is where friendships and professional life often became difficult. Anything that required consistency was a great challenge to her. It was a continual cycle of being super-positive and energised, then disappointment and rejection.

People outside the family often saw the good things in Mum, such as being spontaneous, unconventional, liberal and generous.

She identified with the unusual and anti-hero characters of life. One of her favourite films was Harold and Maude, the 1971 American romantic black comedy-drama. I’m sure she saw herself as an eccentric Maude character in her later life.

I also believe her dependence on alcohol grew from an attempt to self-medicate and flatten the rollercoaster cycle of moods. The result, of course, brought more problems and became a mask for the underlying difficulties she faced.

When I look back, I can see that mental health services struggled to really help my mum as they had only a partial picture. This is so often the case with mental health, where you only see the tip of an iceberg.

When someone is overwhelmed by their experience and is perhaps frightened and confused, it asks an awful lot for them to invest trust in the mental health system.

Although there is more talk about mental health now, misconceptions and stigma remain. This acts as a block to people finding help and having open conversations. Stigma can equally affect the carers or family members too.

I didn’t realise for a very long time that I had in effect been a carer. I worked in the mental health system for years without really acknowledging the fact.

Carers were not valued and, in some cases, seen as part of the problem. How different things could have been if instead of a set of presenting symptoms, a whole or ‘holistic’ view could have been taken.

If we had been supported to understand each other better, then how much better we could have supported each other. In turn we could have helped the professionals make a much better evaluation of what was going on.

I now know that I have carried an immense amount of guilt from a young age. Why did Mum leave? Why is Mum so unhappy? Why can’t I make things or people better?

My own feelings became subjugated in an atmosphere of someone else’s highly expressed or inappropriate emotion.

I had real problems in acknowledging or even recognising my own feelings, emotions and needs. I became depressed and remember staring at myself intensely in a mirror with no recognition of the figure that looked back. In clinical terms, what is known as disassociation.

The single thing that has helped me the most has been meeting other carers. This happened by accident when I left one job in mental health to work with carers at Rethink Mental Illness, a charity provider of mental health services in England.

As I facilitated a course for carers to come together with the aim of finding acceptance, knowledge and ways to better cope, I began to realise that I was learning as much as anyone else in the room. Sure, I’d worked in mental health for years, but this told me only so much.

The important learning is about who we are as people, our stories and how things might be better.

I write my story here as carers in mental health remain a very isolated group of people. If you care for someone who has a mental health challenge, I invite you to make contact and consider coming to one of our courses.

In partnership with Carers In Hertfordshire, we are running our free six-week course for unpaid mental health carers at Bishop’s Stortford Baptist Centre, Twyford Road (CM23 3LJ), every Monday morning from November 11 till December 16, 10am to 12pm.

The course aims to bring together carers to learn more about diagnosis, the mental health system and carers’ wellbeing. It will also look to acknowledge and share their lived experiences so they can learn how to cope better.

To book a place or to make any enquiry as a carer, email me at jonathan.clack@rethink.org or call 07760 615342.

We are Rethink Mental Illness. No matter how bad things are, we can help people severely affected by mental illness improve their lives.

As a leading charity provider of mental health services in England, we’re on a mission to bring about meaningful change: to our health and social care system, to the way society views mental illness, and to people’s lives across the country.