I know. It’s not my best look. But I wrote a poem today entitled, ‘When did you ever ask me about my mental health?’
Recently I’ve been reflecting on my lifelong capacity to endure ineffable mamae, trauma and loss. My ability to be alongside other people in their distress, with aroha and compassion, is something that has always come naturally. But if I wrote down everything I’d survived in my fifty-two years, it might seem unbelievable to those who don’t know about my past.
The point I’m trying to make, is that how I look/appear/respond is not necessarily an accurate reflection of what’s happening on the inside. This was certainly true for my tama. So I’ve been asking myself questions, like:
How much have I kept hidden (from others) since Reuben died?
Who turned away from me when I was honest?
And how many people turned away from Reuben when he was honest?
How often, each day, do I struggle to remain grounded?
Who would even know when I’m not coping, especially if I say nothing?
Have other people’s judgemental responses, or expectations, prevented me from being focused on my healing?
And was the same true for Reuben?
Despite having many excellent coping strategies in my kete (developed over decades) it can be bloody helpful if someone asks, ‘How are you really feeling Iona?’ And then be prepared to listen to my answer without judgement.
Honestly, I don’t need anyone to problem solve, I know what I’m dealing with, but there have been times in the past when I did need help. This isn’t a pity story, rather a reminder that Mental Health Awareness Week should be every week.
Therefore, I have a wero for you. We need to be having far more honest kōrero, about these often invisible and outwardly silent things — things some of us may not have kupu for but feel exquisitely. Which means more of us need to ask the difficult questions, and be open to hearing the equally difficult replies.
This also means putting aside your own issues sometimes and showing up for others, while keeping a healthy balance. And if you can’t, then for fucksake be honest about it. Saves a lot of angst in my experience. No blame from where I’m standing either, it’s super helpful for me when you’re honest and clear.
Most people know I’m all about keeping it real, abhor lies and half-truths, and am not into keeping secrets or taking sides. But since I’ve challenged myself to be more visible it feels risky af (watch this space for my next creative project).
For the record, I don’t think anyone’s struggle with mental health issues needs to compete with (or cancel out) another’s, because what we feel (as gorgeous and unique souls) is our individual experience, and one that is specific to our particular journeys.
I have no right to judge you, so maybe check yourself if you’re feeling judgemental towards me. And before approaching one another it might be useful to ask:
‘What is it that I am projecting onto this person?’
‘And what is it that I am choosing not to see?’
How about more honest dialogue within our bubbles, our circles, our whānau, our workplaces and communities? Like NOW. Because the world is changed, as are we.
The pandemic here in Aotearoa is real, but it’s not one that involves a virus. And the future of our hauora (holistically speaking) is dependant on a massive shift towards an increased capacity for honest, safe and loving communities.
Iona Winter 
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