Mental Health Awareness Week; Why

In response to people who have been questioning my motives for what I have been up to recently...

For so long I had felt like I was at the bottom of a pit with no way out. Losing my wife of 9 years felt like the end of everything. Up to that point I had never seen a dead person let alone watch someone die in your arms.  It has taken four years to drag myself out of the pit I was in, constantly being dragged back by the PTSD I was suffering from, along with half a dozen other psychological issues I had been diagnosed with by my therapist on the way. 

“I got away for a little while, but then it came back much harder. “

- Damon Albarn

That’s how things were for those first few years after, up and down and all around. Bouncing off the walls feeling like a prisoner. I can sort of laugh about how ill I was then, but then it’s rather shocking as you don’t realise how bad you were until much longer after the fact. Then you realise how far you have come. You never get over it, you just learn to deal with it appropriately, and after all being upset about certain things is just part of being human. It’s what makes you normal. 

I say to people I’m better now. Guess that depends on your definition of better. 

For me being better comes from having a greater sense of perspective I think. Being mentally ill I think is when you lose all perspective. For me it is anyway. What is it they say? “Too close and you lose sight of the bigger picture.” 

For me perspective has come in the form of the plight of Syrians fleeing the civil war. Last year I had the privilege of meeting a family from Syria in Istanbul. Their story touched me deeply. Click on the link to read Muhammed’s Story. Obviously one is aware that their story is in no way unique after five years of war have ravaged the country, but I can honestly say I have never been moved so much by meeting people before in the course of my life. Here is a father with his child, just like me and my children they have lost their wife and mother, but they also lost other family members, Muhammed lost his legs and they have become refugees in a different country.  I couldn’t begin to comprehend the trauma they went through, I was staggered, I know how hard the loss of my wife was for me and my family. I could recognise the signs of PTSD in Muhammed and others I met. Yet here they were, welcoming me into their home and bending over backwards to keep me and my friend topped up with tea, coffee, food and cigarettes, imploring us to come back when we felt like we were over extending them.    

I cried for them in Istanbul airport whilst composing captions for the pictures I had taken, waiting to board my plane back to the UK, knowing I had sat in their apartment and promised to do anything in my power to help them. 

This is why I am setting up Muhammed’s Hope, in a way the idea I guess is that by doing this I am paying forward the kindness that was extended to me during my recovery process. People like Marvi Lacar through 1in20, and Daniella Zalcman through Echo/Sight have been instrumental in shining a guiding light on the path to recovery.  Leonie & Greg Marinovich  and Yasmin Al Tellawy for their help and advice in the initial planning stages of Muhammed’s Hope. 

Initially the focus is on helping Muhammed, but if we can raise enough money through fundraising then we have the scope to help others like him, of which there are unfortunately many. 

You know, for me if we are successful in helping Muhammed then the all of the pain and anguish that I have been through will have all been worth it, because I wouldn’t be here today doing what I am doing for him  if it wasn’t for all the things that had gone before. It’s all for a purpose. When I was growing up I used to read a lot of existentialism, that’s all about carving your own path in life, it is up to you which path you choose. What positives you can bring from the negatives. It’s a beautiful world out there and you won’t get to see it if you don’t take yourself out there. 

Shortly I will be following Yasmin Al Tellawy’s awe inspiring example and setting myself some physical fundraising challenges to raise money to help Muhammed and his family, no matter how hard they are they won’t come close to what that little boy has been through. 

 www.muhammedshope.com

Muhammed's Story.

Last year I met Muhammed, he is 8 years old and a double amputee. He and his family allowed me to speak to him about what happened to him on 2nd May 2012, the day he lost his legs. I filmed him as he talked to me...

"My uncle came to visit us to collect some things and take us to see my grandparent's.

On the way to Grandfather's we stopped at my Dad's barber shop to give him the house key and his phone charger. When we got there my Mum changed my Grandfather's clothes and made Moshi and Mtawama for lunch, then my Uncle started to give my Grand Uncle a shave.

My brother was sat in my Grand Mother's lap and Mum told him to go check on granddad, when he came back the rocket exploded. My Uncle was like a piece of burnt wood, my Grand Uncle was on his back, my little brother was in pieces and burnt. I looked at my legs and they were in pieces and they were awful, my Mother was bent over.

My Grandfather's friends came and carried me down stairs into a car, they sent me to Zarzor hospital. In Hospital they gave me an injection and tried to clean my body, then they sent me to an ambulance and I saw my cousin Drmia, her nose and face were cut very bad, I said "Where are we?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" she said.

Then they sent me to Saqhor hospital to an operating room, they put a mask over my nose, I was breathing and then I don't know what happened!

At the hospital they gave me some chocolate, I said I wanted to give it to my little brother, they said he was dead.

After that I stayed at the hospital, the doctor who operated on me and the staff were very nice to me. Thank Allah for them. After my operation I stayed in hospital, I played with a lot children and people would visit me and make me happy. One time they got me a mask and another time they got me a water pistol.

When I grow up I want to be a Doctor or an Engineer.

In Syria they should help the children and the men, all of them, because Syria is destroyed, there is nothing to call Syria, just war, war, war, bomb, rocket and barrel bomb.”  

UPDATE: When I first met Muhammed he was part of a programme being run by a newly started charity MedChild International, unfortunately this charity is no longer functioning. At present I am working with Muhammed's family to see if  we can find another charity to help him, we are waiting for a response to appeals I have sent out. 

Because Muhammed is a growing boy his leg bones continue to grow and they are in danger of growing out of his stumps, he needs an operation to correct this and is likely to need more operations as he continues to grow. If we are unsuccesful in securing a charity to help with Muhammed's medical care I will start a fundraising campaign so we can get the operation done in Turkey where he is currently living.