Today marks World Mental Health Day, a reminder to reflect and have the conversations that often get buried under every day life – like being a mum as one example.
This year’s theme has a spotlight on access to services. And as someone who has sat on both sides of the access divide – receiving support through the NHS and privately over the last few years – I wanted to share a personal perspective.
The reality of seeking help as a mum
Becoming a parent doesn’t come with an instruction manual and neither does navigating mental health during motherhood. The pressure to “keep going,” to hold everything (and everyone) together, often means we delay getting help until we’re running on empty. And when we do reach out, the path to support can be hard.
I’ve had CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) twice – once through the NHS in person, and once privately via phone sessions. And while I’m grateful for both, the difference in experience was noticeable.
The NHS CBT, in person, felt grounding. I fast tracked at the time due to the fact that I was 3-4 months postpartum with my first child.
The act of physically going somewhere, sitting across from a trained professional, and being seen – not just as a mum, but as a human being – made a huge difference. It was incredibly difficult, talking through raw and personal m experiences but that’s what helped me get through a way of understanding how I was feeling and why.
The truth is, I didn’t go to therapy became I found being a mum difficult, I found it hard to be me and be everything I was perceived to me – the working mum, the career orientated woman, the helper in the family, to cry-to person, and a mum. And in between it all, trying to figure out why I felt so down and lost. It turned out that I had barriers to cross way more becoming a mum that I never opened up about and those had built up later than it should have to make me realise I needed help.
The private therapy, which came through a work-related benefit, was phone-based. While it was still helpful in some ways, it didn’t quite feel like real therapy to me. I was going through the motions – talking – but it just didn’t feel the same. It was the only option to get seen quickly, even though I would have much preferred to be seen in person. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t anything available locally.
I found it harder to open up the second time like I didn’t really have the energy for it. This made it harder to connect me the therapist and harder to stay engaged – especially when juggling a full-time job and looking after my son so much so that my boss kindly allowed me to take the sessions in a private room during work time for an hour. I don’t think that helped the productivity all it to be honest. I was going through work related matters and personal stuff, I just couldn’t balance the two.
I’m grateful to have had the chance of accessing both services. Many don’t. And I’d do it again if the support was available. Talking through life from childhood, school life, growing up, career, family etc. did get me somewhere but it left me with two diagnoses after being assessed and I’m still not sure if they are separate or related to me another, you know?
On my records – I have both mixed anxiety and depression, along with PTSD, and then moderate anxiety and depression on the second round.
I learned a lot – you have to want to put time into CBT – not just attend. I took it seriously, more so the first time round and did homework to talk through the following week. Again, something that wasn’t always easy. And the thing is, the anxiety, depression, or negative memories don’t go away, you aren’t magically cured, but you learn about ways to change perspective, and coping mechanisms for when you’re triggered in the future.
Access shouldn’t be a privilege
The NHS waiting lists to access mental health support we long and it’s expensive to pay for the cost privately. As a mum if I had a to attend therapy again, I have to think about work, childcare arrangements, the whole stigma and unwanted conversations from the people I need them most with, and the mental load of even figuring out where to start. For mums, it can feel like the system wasn’t designed with us in mind. I wish people wouldn’t assume it’s “just baby blues that’ll pass” or have a say on when to “bounce back”. Ugh, please.
For a mum’s wellbeing, and for the sake of our children’s wellbeing, partners etc. more needs to be done.
Maybe more flexible, mum-friendly support would make a difference like drop-in sessions, on-site childcare, evening appointments. Services that understand the juggle and reality of motherhood and want to help in doing more.
A message to other mums
If you’re struggling – you’re not alone, and you’re not failing. You’re human. And asking for help doesn’t make you weak – it actually takes a whole lot of strength. And for the doing part too.
I know how lucky I was to access support when I needed it. But I also know it shouldn’t come down to luck. It should be a right – for every mum, every person, everywhere.
When it comes to the stereotypes around being a mum and being honest about mental health, let me say this… yes, I have hard days – just like anyone else. But that doesn’t make me any less capable, and it certainly doesn’t define my worth as a mum, an employee, or a person.
Who’s going to make more space for that truth?
