The following entry was written to explain why I was participating in Movember, a men's Mental Health drive aimed at spreading awareness and raising funds for Mental Health charities and services.
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I don’t really know what to write here.
When I started this Movember fundraiser it was to raise funds for Men’s Mental Health awareness and suicide prevention. This felt very close to my heart and very raw, as for a number of years this is something that has affected my life in a major way.
It’s not something I talk about ever. I guess I don’t talk about it because my fear is that people will look down on me or look at me differently. I like to portray myself as a happy, fun, confident guy, but it isn’t always the case. I struggle, a lot, and I’m terrified of people knowing that.
I’m also incredibly nervous about seeming like I’m being over dramatic or attention seeking, which I know is something I am definitely capable of.
But anyway here goes...
I started to have anxiety attacks around 12 years ago. The 10th of January to be exact. I didn’t know what was happening. At first it was every few days. Then once a week and then for a while they stopped, but the feeling of anxiety didn’t.
For years I spent an awful lot of times hiding from social encounters. By hiding in toilets, leaving the room and going somewhere else or simply canceling or not showing up.
One particular night stands out in my mind.
Kate and I went for drinks with her work friends, and it was all going well. Suddenly, as if we were at a teenage disco the women went to one side of the room and the men went to the other. I was left with a dilemma; do I stay with Kate and potentially ruin her night out with her friends, or do I go talk to the lads that I don’t know about lads stuff like football and murder or whatever. My mind was racing, what is the right thing to do. I felt panic set in, and I tried to ignore it. Before I knew it I was in a toilet cubicle having a full on panic attack, hyperventilating, even crying. What the fuck was going on?
Even now I don’t fully understand what set me off that night, but it’s something that would go on to happen a lot in similar situations. When I was younger I could bury this feeling with alcohol, but I became very aware of how destructive this was and sort of stopped drinking. I still drink, but not often, and only when i feel like my head is ok.
While touring as an actor this anxious feeling would strike quite often, coupled with incredible bouts of sadness. On tour I’d spend the early part of the day on stage, doing what I loved and getting great reactions. Then I would spend the evenings and nights alone in my hotel room thinking incredibly dark things. Id sit in a bath and imagine my funeral. Who would come? Would they write about me in the paper? How would they describe me? Would people say nice things?
This last one was the one I focused on a lot. I started to notice that everyone who died was lovely, they were great, they were talented. No one ever said bad things about the dead. If I was dead, would they say nice things about me?
I hated myself. It’s the only way to describe it. I wanted to be the person I was on stage. He didn’t care about anything, he was funny and fearless and never got panicked or nervous or anxious or sad.
For years I’d have these insane mood swings. Going from happy life of the party Luke , to not wanting to talk to anyone and not liking anything or anyone. This could be set off by a look, a phrase, someone’s tone of voice or body language. I would interpret it as being negative and it would send me into a spiral of sadness, self loathing and eventually anger.
I stopped touring and acting entirely thinking that this would help, it didn’t.
It still happened, possibly even more.
Then, something really frightening started to happen. Around 2 years ago, I started to experience day dreams. That’s the only way I can explain it. They were a sort of vision, or flashback, but to something that never happened.
You know when you watch War films, and the former soldier has flashbacks to Vietnam when he hears a loud noise, it was like that, but my flashbacks weren’t real, they never happened.
I would see myself dying, or imagine my daughter in pain and me not being able to get to her and things like that. It seemed so real, like a memory. I could feel it, and it was agonizing. I was afraid to sleep because I was having horrible nightmares, and then when I was awake I was experiencing these daydreams. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. It happened everywhere. I’d be in work and suddenly I’m seeing these flashes of my death with Ivy shoving me, trying to wake me.
This made me finally seek help. I went to my GP who suggested I go to a counselor. I took this advice on board. I found a therapist, and I went. I felt weird about it. I felt like she’d think I was too over dramatic or that she’d accuse me of lying or having an overactive imagination or something.
Obviously she didn’t. She was great. I went for a few weeks and then due to a leg injury I had to stop work, so sadly, I could no longer afford to go.
During the few weeks I was there we spoke at length about my life. She helped me to understand that this feeling didn’t just happen 12 years ago, that I’d been living with it for most of my life. She helped me to figure out that I have an issue with things I can’t control and a big abandonment complex. Through these conversations it became clear that I often push people away or ignore people before they have the chance to do it to me.
When I stopped acting & wrestling, I cut all connection with the people I knew in those fields, because I assumed they'd no longer want anything to do with me. I speak to 3 people from my school days, and exactly 1 from college, because my assumption is that they want nothing to do with me, so I don't bother them.
She pointed out various behavioral patterns that showed me that I was riddled with guilt over stuff that I had absolutely no control over. She helped me to confront someone that I needed to confront and helped me to ground myself when I felt my mind spiral.
All in all it was a great experience, just cut too short because of money. I hope to be in a better position financially in the new year and start weekly sessions again, to really clear my mind.
The point I’m trying to make I guess is that I looked for help. After years of struggles, dark thoughts, anxiety and more I finally tried to help myself. It worked. I definitely felt better. I’m nowhere near “fixed”, whatever that is, but I’m definitely in a better place. I still struggle every day really, and encounter situations that will send me into a mad spiral, but I think I recover faster now.
I don’t know what else to say, and I think this may have been a big ramble, and not the concise explanation that I intended, but it is what it is.
My name is Luke Barry, and I have mental health problems. Look down on me if you want, look differently at me if you have to, but I’m OK with that, for I… have coping mechanisms, and I’m not afraid to use them!
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Mental health support for those impacted by depression, bipolar disorder & anxiety.
Call 1800 80 48 48
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