JACKIE CAHILL – UPDATED 08 APRIL 2014 08:15 AM
'We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light' – Plato
IT has been a long and difficult road for Waterford star Wayne Hutchinson who today opens up about his battle with depression.
A remarkable piece of Hutchinson's own writing, which appears in full on the player's personal online blog page, details his clinical diagnosis 11 years ago and how he contemplated suicide in January 2013.
The 29-year-old's blog piece begins in his bedroom last month, on the morning of Tuesday March 18, when he is lying on his bed with tears streaming down his cheeks.
Old feelings have returned and Hutchinson writes: "But I'm not asking myself, 'what's wrong with me?'
"For years, I did just that, thinking I was different, thinking I was the only one in the world with my particular problem.
"Now I know it's not just me. I know there are others with that same 'companion' in life: depression.
"As I walk downstairs, drying the tears on my cheeks, I encounter the most beautiful of smiles, worn by my two-year-old niece, whose face bears the look of someone without a care in the world, the way all kids should be.
"I ask her for a hug and she lovingly obliges. This small hug from a little girl will get me through this day. That hug felt like the best one I've ever received. It's just what I needed.
"I need to keep moving forward. I can't go back to where I was 14 months ago."
Hutchinson then reflects on "a cold wet night in late January of last year", when he was in a self-confessed suicidal state. His passion for sport – and life – had disappeared.
"The decision I'd reached wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. I'd planned what I was going to do well in advance, right down to date, time and place. I was going to end it all.
"By now the depression was bad. Brutal even. That night, I sat on my bed, head buried into my knees.
"I prayed to God, something I'd never done before, but for some reason I felt compelled to.
STARING
"I waited for everyone else to go to bed. And when they did, the blackest of darknesses consumed me as I lay there, as I so often have, staring at the ceiling.
"My mind was running at 1000 miles per hour. I was s******g it, but I was ready to do what I felt needed to be done. I needed my peace.
"I quietly made my way downstairs, but all the while I was shaking. I was intent on going to the back of the house and into a forested area nearby.
"Earlier that day, I'd left all the stuff I needed for it down there.
"Just as I'm about to make my way outside to end it all, I hear a noise upstairs, followed by footsteps, gingerly making their way downstairs.
"Like all cowards, I dart into the downstairs toilet to hide. Only I don't feel like a coward – after all I know what I want to do and I know what I want: peace.
"I leave the door slightly ajar to see who it is. It's Mam, and she's getting a glass of water.
"Unknowingly, she has intervened again to make a difference in my life; those footsteps, to me, were a sign from God: I need to keep fighting. I owe it to Mam.
"The following day, when the house was empty, I return to the spot where I'd planned to end it all. I pick up my stuff and am filled with shame and embarrassment.
"I place the stuff in a bag, drive to Shannon Cliff in Dunmore East, take the rope out of my bag and throw it off the cliff and into the sea below. The rope is gone. I'm still here."
Eleven years ago, Hutchinson was diagnosed with depression at a local hospital. But he confirms that the battle against mental illness continues on a daily basis.
He writes: "The days and weeks before that hospital visit had been terrible. I'd cried for days on end in my bedroom from which I dared not emerge to face anyone. I even starved myself at times.
"All this time, I kept asking why me, what had I done to end up feeling like this, a diminished human being? I locked my door. I shut the blinds. The only time I ventured beyond the door was to use the toilet – most of the time I didn't even want to leave my room just to answer nature's call.
"I was 18 years old, an age when life should be full of fun, thoughts about what adult life, just around the corner, would bring for me.
"But that wasn't my reality, and I knew that wasn't right. I needed help. I called my mother for help – she'd been in and out my room to me for days, trying to help, but I was too scared to even speak to her.
LISTENED
"Eventually I found my voice in her company. She listened to what I had to say and we both cried together. It was tough, so tough, but she promised she'd do all she could to help me. Mothers are great that way.
"So she brought me in on the bus to Waterford Regional Hospital – I was in a daze but she kept strong for me.
"So there I was, in A&E, waiting to be seen by a doctor. This was it. In I went, along with Mam, sat down in front of him and felt like a lost child, as I told him everything, and all the while the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I was referred to a psychiatrist and she diagnosed me with the 'D' word. Depression.
"I was prescribed anti-depressants, along with anxiety and sleeping tablets. Eleven years have passed since that hospital visit with Mam. Did it help? Yes. Has it cured me? No it hasn't. And that's the reality."
Hutchinson has dedicated his writing to the memory of the late Niall Donoghue, the former Galway hurler who passed away in tragic circumstances last October.
Hutchinson adds: "I'd also wish to dedicate this piece to Niall's family and that small Kilbeacanty community in Galway."
For the full version of Wayne's story, visit his personal blog page later today:
http://waynehutchinson09.wordpress.com/
