Free falling- The inspirational story of mental health triumph from the heart of Kristine Wells

** Trigger warning ** References to suicide ideation. 

The below story has been written and shared by Kristine Wells herself.

This blog is merely providing a safe platform to hold the essence of this story so that it lives on and continues to change the lives of those today and for generations to come.

I’ve already talked myself out of sharing this a few times, and am still not sure how I feel about what I’m about to say. I fear the stigma of my mental health story, I feared it so much that I actually moved to a different country 2 years after I was discharged from the psychiatric ward at Grand River Hospital in Kitchener.

I’m about to make myself feel very vulnerable but hope it’s for the greater good.

This is my rock bottom….

The year is 2007, I’m 21 years old. It’s Sunday, April 30th, 3 days after my dad’s 55th birthday. I’m in Toronto visiting him in the hospital, he’s been transferred there because they didn’t have the specialists my dad needed for his heart condition in our hometown of Kitchener. He’s been in hospital for two weeks by this point, I was the one to bring him in.

He’d been away for work and had all of a sudden started to retain water. He was so swollen and I wanted to take him in as soon as he had gotten home, but he looked me straight in the eyes and said “I just want to sleep in my bed one last time, you can take me in the morning”. I think he knew he wouldn’t be coming out again.

He’s tired and we don’t talk much that Sunday because he just wants to sleep. I tell him that “I’m not here to see you anyway, I’d just come because I forgot my glasses”… that was the last thing I ever said to my dad.

It’s Monday 1st of May and I get a call from my aunt telling me that she was taking my two siblings and I to Toronto because my dad wanted to see us before he went into surgery.

I knew this wasn’t true because I was there the day before and they were doing the surgery that afternoon. I don’t remember anything from that car ride. I am not ok but I push through.

I start falling.

We get to the hospital, and I can see in my mom's eyes that indeed something wasn’t right. My dad had suffered complications from the surgery, he wasn’t going to wake up…. We were brought in to see him, I’ll never forget the sounds he was making. He was breathing, but barely.

Hooked up to machines, not to keep him alive but to clear his lungs of unpleasant fluids. They told us that he had signed a DNR but when that reality sets in at those final hours… I didn't really know what to think or how to feel.

He survived the night, but barely. I’m in his room, and they pulled out a cot for the family to rest on I’m laying down beside him, he’s stops breathing, and my sister yells, “he’s not breathing”. The panic kicks in, I yell back “go get someone”. The doctors come in, they do nothing besides turn the beeping off, we wait….. it’s over.

There goes my hero, the man who kept me safe, my daddy is gone.

The hole gets darker as I fall

A month or two goes by. My mother and I grieve differently. We’re not seeing eye to eye and I’m asked to leave the family home. I need to find a home, my life is falling apart.

I fall faster down my dark hole.

My sister and I move in together. Things are going well.

I feel like I’ve opened my parachute. Still going down but coasting through the darkness.

The whole time that we lived together, my sister is trying to better herself through education. Life is expensive. We downsize, but the pressure is too intense to try and keep up with paying for living and studying to be a nurse. She tells me she has to move out.

My parachute has a hole and I’m getting tangled into a mess. The world starts to spin around me.

I didn’t talk to anyone about my struggles.

I just kept on free-falling.

Something finally snaps and I started to make bad decisions. I moved into a place I could afford if I would have kept my job, but I had decided I was going to take on a whole lot more. Little did I know, I was having a manic episode.

I’m spiralling out of control, I don’t know which way is up.

I had big plans and was very excited. I started to spend lots of money and set up my apartment. I wanted to start a business from home. I carefully picked everything out, set it up, racked up debt and didn’t know what to do next. Why not quit my stable job? Yep, I sent myself further into a stressful situation, not knowing that I was weeks away from a total meltdown.

I was no longer able to cope with the stress and started to not make much sense to my family and friends. Thank goodness I have good people looking out for me. One of my best friends knew I wasn’t right and called in an intervention.

I’m almost hitting bottom.

I was put into the psychiatric ward against my will. Still thinking I was “fine” I convinced everyone around me that that was true. I was sent back to the family home, I wasn’t trusted to make decisions for myself……. Now feeling that I had lost all control of my life I became self-destructive… I shave my head.

I’ve hit rock bottom with a bone-crunching thud.

The darkness had completely engulfed me. I was embarrassed, I was raw and I could no longer hide that I was not ok. I was in this hole that was so dark and so deep that I couldn’t see a way out. I would pray to go to sleep every night and just not wake up. I wanted it to end, I wanted the intense emptiness to be over, and I didn’t care about what that would do to the people who cared for me.

I will spare the details, but if it wasn’t for the people that I have in my life to help me pick my broken self up, I would undoubtedly not be here right now.

It took a painfully long time for me to feel anything again, I was in the hospital for months, and it took multiple different attempts to get different combinations of medications right, but eventually, the fog started to lift.

As my hair started to grow I started to heal. I was given my job back, which was something that meant more to me than my employer could have even imagined. I started to laugh again and finally started to feel like the version of my old self.

I’ve since moved to Australia to start new. Somewhere that no one knew my story, a place where I was just Kristine the Canadian. No one gave me the “look”. I had had such a public meltdown that everyone gave me the “look”. The poor Kristine look, the one that I had feared to get here in my new life. But I’m not that Kristine anymore, I am not my mental illness.

I’m now in such a good space, I know when I need to ask for help, I know when I’m not right. I’ve got an amazing husband who is supportive in every way and a life that I never could have dreamed of in the central coast of Australia.

The last two years have been so hard for everyone and I know there are many that suffer in silence. So if this gets just one person to reach out if they need help, then any sort of judgment is fine by me.

For all these reasons and so many more, I wholeheartedly support @kickfearinthebutt, the most beautiful campaign that is raising money for the most amazing charities that all focus on mental health.

It’s also raising awareness and sharing resources for those who are struggling and need guidance. @kickingfearinthebutt is spreading kindness and I think the world could really use a bit of that right now.

RUOK? is Kristine's chosen charity and if you feel called to donate to this incredible charity or one of our other four charities that we are supporting, click on the link below.

https://100-days-of-kicking-fear-in-the-butt.raisely.com/

No one should suffer in silence. 

If you or anyone else need support, please reach out to your GP or if you need to speak to someone immediately, please call Lifeline on 13 11 14 for 24/7 support (Australia only).

Thank you for trusting me and this campaign with your inspiring story Kristine.

I have absolutely no doubt that this powerful story will impact the lives of many today, tomorrow and for generations to come. 

You are the true definition of a change-maker.

Tammy x