How the Irish in New York helped me beat my depression

I’ve suffered from anxiety and depression since I was a teenager, at home in Dublin. I would set myself the impossible task of always being in a good mood, and I had no tolerance for myself when I wasn’t. I was easily distracted, always looking for the bit of craic. I abused alcohol and played hard at being the clown.

I felt very alone in my struggle against depression, which I saw as a sign of weakness. Depressive episodes would last for days, sometimes weeks. I was deeply ashamed of my feelings. At the age of 19 I made one attempt at suicide, but I didn’t tell anyone until years later.

I first sought help during a painful divorce, when I was 31. I was working long hours in New York, where I had moved in 1991; I had few friends and tended to isolate myself, as I felt I wasn’t much fun to be around. Being far from my family, in Ireland, made that time of my life more difficult; work became my refuge.

I learned to cope with the loneliness and isolation, but I was often very stressed at work, angry and unhappy, although I always tried to keep up a brave face and laugh at myself.

Over time I learned how to have fun again, and I met someone at the age of 38. We were very much in love, but she had already raised a son and did not want another child. After six years I broke up the relationship, as I desperately wanted to be a father. It was a very stressful, guilt-ridden time. I had many suicidal thoughts, and this was the closest I came to acting on them. It took me a while to come to terms with the idea of not having children. I am now 53, and I have made my peace with it.

In January 2008 I started two years of unemployment, after being laid off from my job. This forced me to change. Despite feeling depressed I started to make new friends, often making myself be with people, even if I could manage it for only an hour or two.

I had fallen out of touch with Irish people in New York over the years. I was living in a part of Brooklyn that was not very Irish, and I worked at an advertising agency where I was the only Irish employee. I realised how much I missed Irish culture and being around fellow Irish people, so I slowly worked my way back into the Irish community.

I started volunteering at the New York Irish Center – and, feeling a strong connection with the place, decided I'd love to work there. I knew spending time there would be very healing for me on my journey back towards happiness. I have now been there, part time, for five years.

In the autumn the suicide-prevention charity Pieta House will open an office here at the New York Irish Center, its first outside Ireland. The service will go a long way towards making the emigrant experience more bearable for many people, and it could well save lives. It can be very difficult for those of us who feel we haven't succeeded in our lives here: there is a perception that failure is not an option in the land of opportunity.

It is wonderful that the time has finally come when people are starting to talk openly about suicide and depression. I remember a time when the taboo was strong and the language inadequate. “His nerves are at him” was about the height of it.

I’ve worked hard at building a strong support system, thanks in no small part to the New York Irish Center. I avail of psychotherapy, and in the past year I have started anti-anxiety medication. I have also found the courage and the vocabulary to talk about depression without guilt or shame. For the first time in my life I feel secure enough to know that, whatever life throws at me, I have all the tools I need to cope and to be as happy as I can be.