COMMENT
When Todd Muller unexpectedly stood down as the leader of the National Party for health reasons in July the community stood by him. A month later he shared his story for the first time in detail. Now, to coincide with Mental Health Awareness week, Muller shares new details about his experience of the daily wrestle with his mind and what he does about it, in his own words.
Mental health challenges had always been other people's issues. Being an MP introduced me to some of the challenging journeys that many in our community live, but I was fine, I never had an issue previously even when life and jobs had thrown me curveballs.
Then on the evening of May 27, while being driven back home from Auckland to Tauranga, I had a panic attack for the first time in my life. Sure, it had been a rough couple of days of media criticism, but I was heading home and had finished a couple of great conversations with mentors and supporters. I was looking forward to seeing my wife and kids before a day out in my electorate.
It started with an intense prickling sensation in my head, followed by what I would describe as "waves" of anxiety. I had never experienced these sensations before, despite having lived through some very high-pressured moments at Fonterra dealing with global food safety scares.
I tried to stem these sensations of dread by taking as many deep breaths as possible and forcing my mind to focus on something else, anything else. I managed to hold it together until I walked into my wife's arms and broke down in a very deep and painful way.
As Michelle did many times over the subsequent 50 days, she comforted me, soothed these feelings of wretchedness with unconditional love and positivity. I awoke the next morning tired, but excited for the day that lay ahead.
The next weekend it came back again, this time with even more ferocity. Night sweats, a deep sensation of anxiety and nausea, shortness of breath and the ongoing prickly buzz and sense of tightening pressure in my head. That attack lasted 15 minutes, but the tightening pressure on my head stayed with me until the end.
The next week my sleep became so disrupted that I would wake after three hours and not be able to return to sleep. No matter what I tried, stretching, yoga or calming apps on my phone, nothing could stop the waves of anxiety and dread that would start the moment I woke up.
I could tell it was impacting my performance so I was prescribed sleeping pills and anti-anxiety medication if needed to get through the weekdays in Parliament. At least this would get me through to maybe five hours' sleep a night, maybe enough to function.
But the attacks still came, now increasingly during the day, and I would try to keep them at bay with deep breathing, self-actualising future moments of success, and trying to be in the moment as best I could be. In moments of solitude, I found myself talking out loud in an attempt to force myself to get on top of it.
I was increasingly fraught with the fight. I had never experienced panic attacks before. When I had heard of people talking about them, or even sharing their experience previously, I thought people simply just had to try harder, or get a grip, or focus on something else more positive.
Everything I was now trying to do but failing. For me, it had become a daily wrestle of my mind and it took an astounding amount of mental energy to get through each day.
My family bore the brunt of it, for when I returned for a day on the weekends, I would have nothing left to give them.
Rather than being truly present, I found myself unable to get out of bed and being mentally distant. Michelle kept trying to put up emotional scaffolding to stop me falling further in a most generous and patient way.
But inside it felt to me as I was slipping down a slope and however hard I tried to grip the bank, I couldn't stop.
My family bore the brunt of it, for when I returned for a day on the weekends, I would have nothing left to give them.
In the end, the frequency and intensity of the panic attacks took me to a place where I had to step away from the fire, the anxiety and the pain.
I am now a few months on, and with the love of family, friends, and support from a specialist, I am recovering well.
I have had no panic attacks and the pressure in my head has abated, although it will take time to fully heal. I love my job as MP for Bay of Plenty and am really enjoying being back out connecting with the people I seek to serve.
I have been inundated with goodwill, humbled by random people congratulating me on my courage and in some cases asking for advice.
The recognition is not due, for while at the end I did walk away, I could. The greater courage is in those who deal with it even when it is harder to walk away.
In terms of advice, the only piece I will ever proffer is to share the pain.
For me, it was sharing with both my wife and towards the end a very good friend. I can't emphasise this enough. Speak up, it does not matter so much to whom, but it does so matter that you do.
This is why I agreed to share my story with the Bay of Plenty Times for this year's mental health week, to add my personal experience to those thousands of other brave New Zealanders who have battled and still battle today with their mental health.
I know now that is the definition of true courage. We need to listen more to people like Sir John Kirwan and Mike King, true leaders who demonstrate daily their commitment to their fellow countrymen and women.
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