‘I just wish people would understand. I’m not mad. I’m just so very sad’

450,000 Irish people suffer, or have suffered, from mental illness. That’s roughly one in 10 people – so for every 10 people you know, the chances are that at least one of them has been afflicted by the “Black Dog”.

Mental health in Ireland is only beginning to become a less stigmatised and more talked about topic, but the truth is, it requires further discussion. Many celebrities and public figures have spoken out about their experiences, but it’s important we understand how the average Joe deals with his or her demons.

I began to wonder, if mental illness left a physical scar that everybody could see, would it be such a taboo subject? Would there be better facilities in place and a greater level of understanding for those who are suffering? Would more people who are mentally unwell come forward and seek help? This was the inspiration behind my debut novel, Superwoman.

Superwoman was written in 2014, not long after my own experience with anxiety and depression. The story follows Louise, a young woman who becomes severely mentally unwell after a violent altercation. What follows is a first-person account detailing the entire deconstruction of Louise’s life.

I wanted to write about a normal, well-rounded and moderately successful woman who develops a mental illness – because that’s exactly who it could happen to. It could also happen to the woman who sells you your morning paper, or the man who delivered your post this morning. I wanted the reader to recognise that there are no “eligibility criteria” for mental illness – anybody can fall victim. It’s important to raise awareness of this – not to create fear, but to encourage understanding towards those who are suffering.

When writing and researching my novel, I spoke with a woman who has been suffering from severe depression for as long as she can remember. When I asked her for her input, she simply said: “I just wish people would understand. I’m not mad, I’m just so very sad.”

The woman also spoke about the shame and embarrassment she felt towards her illness – how worried she was that others would perceive her as unstable, dangerous and unreliable. She even feared that it would affect her employment opportunities.

The reality, though, is very different. The majority of people suffering from depression still get out of bed every day and lead seemingly normal lives. The only difference is that they do it feeling utterly miserable.

Whilst conducting my research, I read a lot of literature on post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Many readers will be familiar with the term, but perhaps not with the stark reality of this diagnosis. In the aftermath of the main character’s violent attack, she initially assumes that she is in shock, and that the paralysing feelings of fear she is experiencing will pass.

Unfortunately, they don’t – and that’s where my story begins. Denial is a prevalent theme throughout the book. Not even the frequent panic attacks Louise has begun to experience will allow her to convince herself that she is unwell. Instead she decides that her symptoms are just part of her life now, and will plague her forevermore. This only serves to exacerbate her feelings of hopelessness, and her mental health spirals to the point where she is sent home to live at her parents’ house.

Whilst I was writing, I really wanted to add some comic relief to what would be an otherwise heavy-going and bleak story. That was when I decided to incorporate the fictional town of Lacknamon. Lacknamon, where Louise’s parents live, is based somewhere south of Cork, and exists as a recession-free haven. It is the kind of place where anyone who’s having a hard time would love to go, myself included, and is the source of the majority of the comedy throughout the book. If they ever build it, I’ve decided I’d like to go and live there!

After I had finished writing Superwoman, I set about the grisly business of trying to get it published. When it actually happened, I felt suddenly terrified. I knew that people would read it, and that they would begin to wonder whether I was drawing upon personal experience for inspiration. While the events in the book are purely fictional, I began to really resonate with Louise and found myself thinking “hey, me too!” an awful lot. I’ve even had to go on the radio to talk about why I wrote this book, the prospect of which was very scary to me as I was still, unbelievably, embarrassed by the fact that I had suffered from anxiety – a very common mental health issue which affects roughly 350 million people worldwide to some extent, either mildly or to the extent where they are rendered incapable of normal day-to-day activities.

If reading my book makes somebody feel better by helping them to realise that they are not alone in the suffering and that there are millions of other people struggling with the same illness, then the purpose of this novel will have been fulfilled.

[ Superwoman is published by Austin Macauley, at £5.99 ]