Bald Angels founder Therese Wickbom has learned to manage depression and severe anxiety. Photo / Jenny Ling
If anyone can see the silver lining in facing nearly a lifetime of severe anxiety coupled with bouts of depression and bulimia, it's Bald Angels Charitable Trust founder Therese Wickbom.
Wickbom - who has spent the past decade helping to clothe, feed and support vulnerable Far North families – isnow at peace with the terrifying panic attacks, depressive brain fog and crippling self-doubt.
She goes as far as calling her experience a "beautiful thing".
Because Wickbom has come to realise she wouldn't be doing what she is doing today - heading a team of Bald Angels volunteers raising tens of thousands for the less fortunate, running Christmas food and toy drives and handing out warm winter woollies - without reaching rock bottom herself.
She recalls her former career as a successful fashion designer based in the Manawatu surrounded by couture and wholesaling clothing ranges throughout New Zealand and Australia.
Then disaster struck.
Wickbom, who had already experienced depression and bulimia in her early 20s, was slammed by another bout.
"Things were going very well, then around the global financial crisis we lost everything and had to start all over again.
"That was the start of another downward spiral. It was a very serious long illness of several years where I pretty much didn't function too well at all.
"I struggled to get up in the morning. I was scared to leave the house and going to the supermarket was a major effort.
"I'm a person who gets on and makes things happen and doesn't give up easily.
"But I was absolutely knocked flat by this illness."
Wickbom remembers two particularly traumatic moments.
"One time I needed the toilet and I was standing in the middle of my house stressing about which toilet I would go to. And how anxious I got because I couldn't make up my mind.
"Another time I was driving to the counsellor 25 minutes out of town and I would visit her the same day every week.
"Sometimes, either going there or going home, I would 'come to' and go 'I don't know where I am, I don't know why I'm in the car, I don't know where I'm going'.
"I can look back now and think what a ridiculous situation to be in, but at the time it's serious and distressing."
The depression stayed for several years.
In 2010, she and her husband, Mats, moved to Kerikeri with their children to start again.
Two years later Wickbom was sitting at her kitchen table reading the NZ Herald when she came across a story about a two-year-old child "sent home to die" from Starship hospital.
"I had overwhelming compassion for her parents and thinking how on earth do you survive losing a child.
"It was a switch, I thought I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself 24 hours a day, yet here we've got parents who have to watch their little baby die.
"I just felt I needed to do something different."
Wickbom, who was about to turn 50, decided to celebrate in a meaningful way.
"I didn't want to party or a typical celebration - I wanted to celebrate surviving.
"That's how Bald Angels started.
"Bald Angels has been my best medicine.
"Because of my experiences with mental health I can be more compassionate and understanding.
"I get it can be really hard to lift yourself out of a slump.
"I get how quicksandy it feels when you're being sucked under further and further into that dark hole. And I understand that feeling of hopelessness."
LOOKING BACK, Wickbom said though she "came from a good family and had all the support", she has struggled with anxiety since childhood.
She links it to the hearing loss she suffered from an early age.
Wickbom had two options; to wear a "clunky hearing aid" the size of a cellphone that restricted her movements – or not hear at all.
Sport was a major source of tension and she became isolated from an early age.
"I couldn't run or turn my head when wearing the hearing aids.
"It physically limited what I could do.
"There was always a sense of not fitting in and of having to try harder so the anxiety was around 'am I good enough'?
"Certainly, with sport that was a real trigger for me because it was just so hard."
The anxiety stayed with her into adulthood, morphing into social anxiety set off by sensory overload.
Being around lots of people at events was extremely stressful.
"Early on it was terrifying, because I didn't know what was happening.
"Over time I learned to recognise the signs; heart racing, trouble breathing, and a feeling of being generally overwhelmed.
"I didn't know where to go or what to do.
"Now I can remove myself from the space, or I can prepare myself knowing I'm going into a space that's going to make me anxious."
THIS IS the first time Wickbom has opened up about her mental health journey.
She initially declined an interview with the Northern Advocate for our Great Minds campaign, a series on the state of Kiwis' mental wellbeing and our search for happiness.
She changed her mind because she was surprised at the "deep shame" she still felt when asked to share her story.
"When I started looking at that I thought if I'm feeling so much shame and yet I'm someone who advocates for mental health and wellbeing, where is all this shame coming from?
"And how bad it is in society that we can carry shame around something that's just an illness.
"I thought maybe I need to look at this more closely and speak up for people I really feel empathy for."
For two years New Zealanders have been affected personally, socially and professionally by the global pandemic.
But New Zealand was in the grip of a mental health crisis long before Covid-19.
Wickbom said she feels particular empathy for youth and is concerned they won't ask for help because they don't want to admit they're not coping.
There are many reasons a person won't reach out for help, she said, including being shamed by someone else who thinks "they should just get it together and pull their socks up".
"I really feel for people struggling with mental illness and not getting support from people around them.
"There are so many invisible illnesses where people can't see it; where someone looks normal but underneath things are not normal.
"We need to be a lot more mindful and compassionate for everyone around us because we don't know what others are dealing with."
While Wickbom took antidepressants for many years, she has now stopped, though is realistic about the possibility of having to take them again.
She works hard at being well.
Routine is important; Wickbom gets up at the same time every day, and begins with meditation and prayers.
She gets plenty of fresh air, sunshine and exercise, such as walking, yoga, and gardening, and eats a balanced diet. She also gave up alcohol.
Connecting with people, "even when you want to be alone", is vital, she said.
"It's important to have a higher power, whatever that is.
"If I'm feeling overwhelmed, I've learned it's okay for me to say I need space."
Wickbom said she'll always be grateful "something flipped" when she read that news article.
"It's changed the trajectory of my life.
"And it's changed thousands of people's lives over the years in little ways because they've had warm clothing or blankets or someone has just shown up when they were really down.
"I can look at it and go 'that was really bad s*** but something good came out of it.
"And if people could understand you might be feeling like crap today but tomorrow is another day.
"Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow.
"Try and find something good to focus on, just for a moment.
"Then do another moment."
WHERE TO GET HELP
If it is an emergency and you or someone else is at risk, call 111.
Safe to talk (sexual harm): Call 0800 044 334 or text 4334
All services are free and available 24/7 unless otherwise specified.
For more information and support, talk to your local doctor, hauora, community mental health team, or counselling service. The Mental Health Foundation has more helplines and service contacts on its website.