Their Story: Matt*
This is the story of a young man from the Wheatbelt. He would like to remain anonymous, but for the sake of the story he has chosen the name Matt to identify him, this is not his real name. Matt told me his story via phone call and asked me to tell the story on the podcast. This is Matt’s story.
Matt was 19 when his father was diagnosed with cancer. At the time Matt was entering his second year of a mechanic apprenticeship in the city, it had always been his plan to get a trade before heading back to the family farm and taking more of a leadership role as his father got older. This cancer diagnosis sped up his plan by about ten years.
A few weeks after the diagnosis it became evident that his father would need help with even the general duties of running the farm, it was too much for his Mum to handle on her own. So, Matt quit his apprenticeship and moved home. His dad didn’t approve of the decision, he was adamant he could continue on himself and belittled Matt for making such a rushed decision. His mum told him they would have been fine for a while longer, but he could tell she was grateful.
His dad was reluctant to accept the help, he wanted everything done his way and wouldn’t accept new ideas from Matt. They butted heads constantly. Matt knew he had made the right decision for his family, but could feel his mental health deteriorating with the constant stress and anger around him.
Throughout his childhood their family mostly kept to themselves, they weren’t all that involved in their community, a small town around half an hour away from their property. It was just a pain to make that drive in and out of town regularly, especially at night. When Matt moved back he didn’t know anyone and struggled to socialise, the only place most people caught up was at the local pub, and Matt didn’t drink much.
The health of his father continued to worsen over the months and by harvest, he was in pain constantly. Matt had always been taught that Sunday was a day off, especially during seeding and harvest, people needed at least one day of rest. One Sunday morning, Matt woke early with a strange feeling that something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was that feeling that something in his world was off balance. He brushed it off.
It was 9 am when his mother called and asked if he had seen his father, he hadn’t come home from checking some of his beloved sheep at around 7 am. The sinking feeling in his stomach got deeper. He promised his mother he would go and look for him and check he was okay, she needn’t worry.
There was a spot on the farm where his dad had taken him as a child. It was on top of a hill and overlooked most of the farm, at sunset or sunrise it was breathtaking. As Matt drove towards the spot he could see his father's ute parked there from a distance. That feeling grew.
That day, Matt found his father, unresponsive, behind the wheel of his old, beaten-up Hilux. His only hope was that his father had gotten to see one last sunrise over his farm before cancer stole his final breath.
There was no time to grieve, it was the middle of harvest after all. The paddocks were not going to harvest themselves. As small communities do, Matt received many offers of help to get loads off the ground and into the trucks, but he declined. Matt felt like this was a test from his father and had to prove that he could do this.
He worked long hours. Those that he wasn’t working he was at home begging for sleep to overcome him. Too many racing thoughts, to-do lists, and questions- how was his mum doing? She said she was coping, but was she really? Was his father watching over him with that look of disappointment at how he was running the farm? How was he going to do this on his own?
Once the harvest was finished there stopped being as much to do to occupy his time and keep his thoughts away. Matt couldn’t bring himself to head down to the local pub, he felt like people were looking at him with pity. He felt low all the time as if someone had flicked a switch and forgotten how to turn it back on. The pressure was mounting on Matt to not only look after the farm but be a rock for his mother as well. He had no brothers or sisters to assist, so it was just Matt and his Mum. He knew his dad would never forgive him if he didn’t look after her how she deserved.
By the time seeding hit the next year Matt had continued in a downward spiral. He didn’t know who he was anymore, his whole identity was wrapped up in taking care of this farm because his father couldn’t. It was the constant nagging from his mother that eventually prompted him to see a GP. Not the local GP, no, everyone knew him and Matt knew he couldn’t vent everything out to him and then run into him in the grocery store. Instead, he travelled an hour away to see their GP.
When the GP asked what had brought him into her office, Matt broke down. He told of the anger and frustration, the sadness, the numbness, the loss of identity, the sheer pain he was experiencing day in, day out.
Depression. That was what the GP said after Matt had finished spilling his situation to her. She told him that with what he had been through in the past year it was understandable that he was struggling. She referred him to a psychologist and prescribed some medication. He was hesitant about the medication, what side effects would he have? Would he need these for his whole life? Why did he need medication to be happy? The prescription sat on his bedside table for some time.
During his first phone call with the psychologist, he let everything out again, in more detail, mostly prompted by the therapist. She asked the questions and he looked inside himself to find the answers. She asked about medication and he relayed his concerns. Eventually, he was convinced to give them a go and did get the prescription filled. Matt left that session feeling a little lighter and a little clearer.
This first session was two years ago. Matt still speaks to his psychologist every two weeks, at 4 pm on a Wednesday, every two weeks. He consistently takes his medications every morning. He made an effort to make some friends and even joined a local footy team. He met his partner, who he tells me is his rock, that she makes the world brighter and makes more sense. He tells me he is not cured of his depression and doesn’t think he ever will be, the process will forever be ongoing, but he knows how to manage it, and how to live with it.
Matt would like his story to be a reminder to people, to men especially that it’s okay to seek help. To admit that things are getting too much. He wants people to know that there is strength in vocalising your pain. He wants you to know that it will get better.
