Brianna Parkins: Stop telling me ‘it’s okay to not be okay.’ I want to be okay, thanks

This time of the year I am at my crankiest. It’s because we’re in the calendar dead zone between Australia’s R U OK Day, on September 9th, and World Mental Health Day, on October 10th. Several things tend to happen, all of them equally annoying. I get press releases and invitations to corporate events because I have spoken publicly about mental illness in the past. I am also the token open mentaller in my friendship groups, so I get lots of texts from well-meaning friends asking if I’m okay.

My natural response to someone asking R U OK? Is immediately “R U OK to shove that text up inside your hole?” Because people like me don’t need texts. We need quick, affordable and consistent access to mental-health services. Without month-long waiting lists. Without ringing around to find who is and who is not accepting patients. Services that join up so that you don’t fall between the gaps. Help me do that. Text your local TD about waiting times for publicly funded free services. Ask them what they’re doing to bring them down.

I can say with certainty that until I moved to Ireland I had never paid for a single healthcare appointment aside from the odd dental clean. I even paid less tax as well

I try to avoid social media around this time. It’s great that people are posting phone numbers for crisis services on Instagram. I hope they help people, but can we also demand better care to prevent people from arriving at that acute point? I see people posting heartfelt essays about being available to chat any time of day when their friends are feeling down.

That is really lovely. But I don’t want to chat to Chantelle, my old university friend, who as far as I know works in recruitment and not mental health. Chantelle while being an absolute sounder with a predilection for giving everyone a lift home, can not prescribe life-changing, brain-chemistry-altering medication. I want to talk to a psychiatrist. The last time I rang a public service they couldn’t even give me a rough estimate of when I’d get an appointment.

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Stop telling me “it’s okay to not be okay”. I want to be okay, thanks. Okay is what I strive for. The slogan should be: “It’s not okay that people are unable to access free mental-health care in a timely manner in a developed nation like Ireland while paying this amount of personal income tax.” But that’s not very catchy and doesn’t look very good on a T-shirt. You can’t make that into a shareable Instagram quote with sunsets on it. I am not going to be invited to a model photocall holding a banner with that on it in St Stephen’s Green.

The system in Australia is in crisis. It is overburdened and underfunded. However, I could walk into a GP and leave with at least six free sessions with a psychologist chosen with the GP based on personal preferences and medical history. I could get an appointment within a fortnight. The wait for consultants could be up to two months, but they were 100 per cent free.

This year I spent close to €3,000 on essential mental-health care. It has taken me 2½ years in Ireland to finally see the type of doctor I need, and then it is as a private patient

This might not be everyone’s experience. The Covid crisis has blown waiting times out. I can say with certainty, however, that until I moved to Ireland I had never paid for a single healthcare appointment aside from the odd dental clean. I even paid less tax as well.

Tax is necessary. I see it as the monthly subscription fee for living in a functioning society. I received free education. I’m happy to pay that forward in Ireland, but it stings when the Government has not spent any of the €10 million it put aside back in February for the increased Covid demand on mental-health services. Their response is that final proposals are being prepared. The system has been in crisis for years. Do they not know where the cash needs to go?

The Government is set to introduce a free online service provided by a private company. It’s a step in the right direction, but at the minute it’s only set up to deliver online cognitive behavioural therapy for anxiety and depression, something that, sadly, doesn’t help everyone.

This year I spent close to €3,000 on essential mental-health care. It has taken me 2½ years in Ireland to finally see the correct type of doctor I need, and then it is as a private patient. I had to Google consultants and psychologists individually and call them one by one until someone could see me. Precisely not the kind of activity someone who is sick has the brain capacity and motivation to do.

If a middle-class English-speaking journalist with private health insurance struggles to get help, what happens to everyone without those privileges?

I wrote emails licking up to them, begging to get on their crammed appointment books. Some never responded. A private facility I was referred to took a month to call back. They couldn’t make an appointment, though: the wait to see someone would be six months. During the assessment they realised they didn’t have a doctor who specialised in the area I needed. It was back to square one. And under the duvet to cry.

I know there will be comments saying I can leave if I don’t like it. That is true: I can go back to Australia if I can’t get the healthcare I need here. But what about you? Can your family access the help they might need? If a middle-class English-speaking journalist with private health insurance struggles to get help, what happens to everyone without those privileges?

In short, no, I won’t be coming to your mindfulness-yoga workshop on World Mental Health Day, thanks.