One Black Dog (Depression, Sadness, and the shit storm that was May 2026.)
Trigger warning: This article contains references to mental illness and suicidal ideation.
May 2026 was one for the ages. In terms of depression, it wasn't the worst I've been in a long time, not even the worst month this year. As I've said in a previous journal piece, the start of 2026 saw me in the throws of suicidal ideation, struggling with work, lacrosse, and everything else. Ironically, May 2026 was (at time of writing) the least worst mental health month I've had this this year. Least worst may seem like a strange way of phrasing things, but at the start of May I was still having sporadic thoughts of suicide, and was struggling with everything. This is a new series going from Two Black Dogs to One Black Dog.
Early in 2026, I was lucky enough to be selected to represent Victoria as a member of the senior men's lacrosse team. The tournament took place in the lead up to the King's Birthday weekend. Twice before I've represented my state as a senior, three years ago (the last time it was in Adelaide, the same site as 2026) I was lucky enough to be one of three men selected as captains of the squad. When the tournament came around, I was not there.
Struggling with mental health at the start of May, I knew I wasn't going to be able to manage a tournament. Yes, I would have liked to don the navy blue again, I would have loved to have the chance at another potential captaincy, I would have loved to have a chance to win another national championship. I knew I couldn't. The day after my 34th birthday, I reached out to the coaching staff and informed them I would be withdrawing from the team due to ongoing mental health concerns. It was heartbreaking to do, but I know (a little more than a month removed from the decision) that it was the right decision for me.
The same day I withdrew from the Victorian team, I had made the journey up to Macedon to meet someone. I brought Freya with me. I didn't bring her home with me.
It had been several months in the making, the decision to say goodbye to my good good girl. Through February and March of 2026, I'd realised that I was not managing to care for Freya properly. I'd had her since she was a tiny (relatively) puppy, but my hopes to just style things out and pretend things were fine weren't working. My inability to look after her like she deserved was making my depression worse, in turn this was worsening my ability to care for her. I was in a negative spiral. It was a bad one. Around the start of May I put up a post on a Newfoundland owners page explaining what was going on and that I was looking for a new home for my one-time sidekick. I was inundated by supportive messages and people who were looking for a Newfie to love. The most promising lead as I saw it was the woman who after meeting, would become Freya's new mum. She had a place in the countryside, another Newfie, some chickens, a cat, and a rabbit. I'd always figured Freya would love to be part of a menagerie of some kind, this was the chance to find out. On that same day as I pulled out of the team, at the crack of dawn, we jumped in the car and I set the GPS for Macedon. Freya loves car trips, she always has. Along with carrots, car trips are her favourte things. The drive to Macedon was a sad and happy affair. I was sad for what I knew what was coming, Freya was happy because she was living in the moment and trying to eat the air rushing past the window her head was stuck out of.
I cried a lot on the drive from Macedon to my afternoon lacrosse game. I cried during the game too, and after, and well... just lots of tears in general.
It was really nice feeling so sad. Depression itself isn't sadness, or at least, it's not just sadness. At least for me, depression is emptiness, it's nothingness, it's not just being very sad. In saying farewell to the potential glory of lacrosse, and to my beloved Freya, I knew very quickly that I had made the right call. I was starting to feel already, even if it was sadness. You can fill the pit of emptiness with sadness if there are no other options (or at least that's what I was telling myself).
I was newly 34, dogless, and no longer preparing for a lacrosse tournament. The week before that, my stepfather was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease. The first week and a half of May had been a lot, the next week would be much better.
My grandpa died one week after my birthday, on the 12th of May, after a short illness and after a day spent surrounded by family, he passed away in his sleep. On Mother's Day Sunday, he'd reported being very tired, by Tuesday night he was gone. My grandpa was a truly great man. Being one of four boys raised by a single mother, I know without his support through the years, I wouldn't be the man I am, or potentially even still around without all he had done. When I heard the news of his dying, I asked to be the grandchild who gave part of his eulogy. I am one of sixten grandchildren he had, but I wanted to be able to speak about him. My next journal piece is going to be about him, my second piece on grief and grieving.
The funeral service for my grandpa was beautiful. He had lived a 96 year life, raised a big happy family, travelled the world, and been my grandpa. The celebration included the sharing of many beautiful memories, funny anecdotes, and everything else.
The last part of my worst May came on the final day, and I didn't find out about it until the first of June.
I've been teaching since 2020 (shitty year to start, lots going on, hard to focus on Tiger King), and in 2024 and 2025 I was the coordinator for year 9 at my school. I've been able to work with hundreds of amazing children, and in small ways, I feel I've been able to affect many lives positively. Until 2026, I'd never lost a former student. On June 1st, all the staff of my school were called into the hall, staff are never called into the hall outside of scheduled meetings. One of the year 9s I'd been responsible for in 2025 had died. There's no death of a child that isn't tragic, yet the passing of this girl hit a little differently. She was amazing, her teachers loved her, her peers loved her, the school community was rocked. As had become a trend for May, I cried a lot after that. At the time of writing, I will be attending the funeral service for this girl in three days. I don't imagine it will be an easy day. I don't imagine I'll have much brain space for teaching that day either, I'll do my best.
Half way through June 2026, my mental health is the best it's been all year. I've been really sad for quite a lot of May, but it's been healthy sadness. When sad things happen, and sadness is the response, it's normal. Sadness is the correct response to sad events. I was glad I've been able to feel sad in the wake of loss and more loss. I look forward to feeling happy again.
If you are ever in crisis, there are services available to you. Please use them. You're worth it.
Service | Focus | Phone number | Operating hours |
Emergency assistance | 000 | 24 hours/7 days | |
Expert health advice from a nurse | 1300 60 60 24 | 24 hours/7 days | |
For people seeking a specialist mental health response that will identify the urgency and nature of response required | Phone numbers are available in each area | 24 hours/7 days | |
Depression, anxiety and related disorders | 1300 22 4636 | 24 hours/7 days | |
Crisis support, suicide prevention and mental health support services | 13 11 14 | 24 hours/7 days | |
People affected by complex mental health issues | 1800 187 263 | Mon – Fri 10am – 8pm | |
Carers and families of people affected by mental illness | 1300 554 660 | 24 hours/7 days |
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