“I wanted to die but couldn’t admit it” – one NHS worker’s story of mental illness

JOANIE MILLS (our writer’s name has been changed to preserve anonymity) has worked in the NHS for 15 years but had to take time out due to severe depression. Here she reveals her struggle to admit that she was feeling suicidal and finally began her journey to recovery.

You are letting your patients down.

Maybe you are not cut out for this work.

Your colleagues are having to do more work because of you.

These are just some of the comments I got from NHS colleagues when I took time out with severe depression and anxiety. In reality, they were comments I uttered to myself too. They formed part of an internal monologue that seemed set on self-destruction. I had suffered with depression before. I knew the signs. I spoke to patients daily in my role as an advanced nurse practitioner about how to manage their own mental health. I should have known better, and asked for help sooner. I didn’t, until suicide was all I could think of every single day.

I have worked in the NHS for 15 years. I have watched it change and adapt, but never more so than when Covid-19 hit. Everything changed overnight. Telephone triage, video consultations, PPE shortages, out-of-date surgical masks and an undercurrent of fear. It was now impossible to hug a colleague if you were having a bad day. No more lunches together to unwind and talk about things other than work. There wasn’t anything other than work anymore. I felt isolated and alone at a time when I was scared just to do my job. Yet there was no option to fall apart because the public needed us. So I ignored all of these feelings, didn’t talk about them and I carried on. The weekly claps on a Thursday helped keep them at bay, as did being part of the first vaccine clinic in our area. I felt like I was making a difference.

Time passed, and thanks to the Herculean effort of the vaccine programme, normality started to return. Those feelings I’d pushed down started to resurface.

The public seemed to forget the sacrifices made and hard work we had done and accused us of not working hard enough. Yet I had never worked harder.

We were offering more appointments, not less. The time away from my family, the long-Covid symptoms I’d struggled with for months but still came to work, were not important to anyone. My mood plummeted and as my colleagues struggled too I overheard the voices of others judging them for “letting the team down” if they took time out. I felt unable to speak up.

Colleagues would ask how I was, and I would lie and say I was fine. I wasn’t, I wanted to die but I couldn’t admit it. It took a doctor to one day ask me twice “are you really okay?” before I spectacularly fell apart. I spoke to my own GP, had therapy and time away from work. I felt guilt every day for not being there. But why? I was clearly very ill. Nobody would complain that a person with a broken leg wasn’t at work.

NHS staff are 24% more likely than the general population to take their own lives. These figures mean a suicide is reported for healthcare workers on average every three days.

I am grateful I didn’t become part of this statistic, but the stigma of speaking out when suffering from mental health issues meant I was closer to it than I needed to be.

There is no shame in needing help. Even if you are supposed to be the one helping others.

Today, my mental health has improved greatly. I was lucky to be supported by a wonderful therapist who taught me to accept that I was ill.

This made it easier to talk to others about what I was going through. My family was incredible, and on those days that I didn't trust myself to be alone, they would sit with me. I started reading, and would go for a walk every day outside. It was often one minute at a time, rather than one day at a time, but with each step forward I got better.

People would say that I got stronger, but I hate that idea because I was always strong. I survived. I like to think that I give my patients better care now than before when it comes to mental health, because I can speak from my own experiences, but I also know when I need to take a break.

I schedule my annual leave regularly, and had some coaching lessons to help me set boundaries with my workload. I am under no illusion that I am at risk of depression again. I live with it, rather than having “cured” it, however I now have more tools to keep it at bay.