man sitting in waiting room with head in hands
Photo: Getty Images

SocietySeptember 19, 2020

Everyone says you should ask for help. But what happens once you do?

Guest writer
man sitting in waiting room with head in hands
Photo: Getty Images

Eamonn Marra has been trying to get help for his mental health problems for two years. It shouldn’t take hitting absolute rock bottom for him to receive it.

Content warning: This story contains discussion of mental health issues and suicidal thoughts. 

Every time mental health is back in the news it comes with the same list of helplines, and the same pleas from friends to those who are struggling to ask for help. But what happens once you ask for help? You would think the response to someone asking for help would be to give them help, but in my experience, that is rarely the case.

I have been asking for help for over two years. In mid 2018 I was working four part-time jobs and burning out, so I asked my GP if there were any counselling services available. He gave me a piece of paper with a list of low-cost options. I looked over the list, crossed out all the services I didn’t meet the criteria for, and contacted one of the remaining ones. They told me they were not accepting new clients. At that stage I felt like finding a counsellor would just be another job to add to my already significant workload, so I gave up looking.

Later that year I had another, more significant, breakdown sparked by some bad health news. I was referred to a specialist organisation where I had an initial assessment but did not meet the threshold for their services. I was then given a session with a counsellor at my doctor’s office, who said she would help me find a long-term counsellor. Later she contacted me saying I wasn’t eligible for any of the services she looked into, but would continue to see me herself. A week later she contacted me again and said I was also not eligible for her services.

After I was rejected from all other options, I started seeing a trainee GP every week for an hour. I felt safe and looked after by him, but he was not a therapist. This lasted about six weeks before he had to move to his next placement.

Throughout this time I was compulsively exercising, spending three or four hours each day cycling, running, walking, or at the gym. This helped a lot but also disrupted my ability to do anything else with my life. If I didn’t meet my daily exercise targets I would end up having a panic attack. I took a few months off work and moved in with my mum, partially so I could manage to maintain this routine.

In March 2019, I moved back to Wellington and found a job as a contractor with no minimum hours, doing stressful work with minimal support. I earned enough to pay my rent and bills, but not knowing when that would change was a big stress.

In June 2019, I told my doctor I was feeling overwhelmed and stressed out again and that I hadn’t resolved any of the issues that came up last year. I again asked for counselling support and he gave me the same list I received the year earlier. I told a friend I was going to try one of these services and he told me that was where he went, but they were about to close down.

In August 2019 I broke my arm, which meant I couldn’t continue my exercise routine. This made me very concerned about the health issues that sprang up the year earlier and I felt both my physical and mental health slip from my control. My job got more stressful, both as a result of the broken arm and changes in management.

At the end of September I quit my job. I hoped this would help but it was too late and I fell into a massive mental health crisis. My friends had to chaperone me 24/7 as I was suicidal. They spent several hours on the phone to the mental health crisis line and I was given an appointment the next day. There they started arranging appointments in the crisis system for me, but before they came around I was hospitalised and transferred to a respite centre.

This was the first time I had managed to get any institutional support with my mental health and it only happened because I was in danger of dying. I had reached the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff.

The month after I left respite is somewhat of a blur. I had mental health workers calling me daily making sure I was alive. I saw a psychiatrist in the crisis team semi-regularly, but the visits felt predominantly administrative.

Eventually I was told I was being transferred to the community mental health team for ongoing treatment. This transfer process was messy and involved a friend spending an hour on the phone trying to work out what was happening, until a transfer meeting was arranged.

At the transfer meeting I was asked what I wanted from the community. I said, “I want to change my medication.” They told me my GP could deal with that. I said, “I want counselling.” they said that wasn’t a service they provided. Eventually I said, “I don’t know what I need. I’ve been dealing with mental health issues for a decade and if I knew what it would take to fix it I would already be doing it.”

They booked me an initial assessment with two mental health nurses. There I talked about what had been happening over the last year and what brought me there. When I brought up the stressful job I had just left, they empathised because they knew what it was like. They told me how they were understaffed and had had several positions vacant for a long time, which was making providing support much more challenging. I spent a significant proportion of that meeting comforting them about their own terrible work situation.

At the end of the assessment they told me they were equipped to deal with only the 2% most serious mental health cases, and I didn’t fit that criteria. They said I needed long-term counselling and they didn’t offer that, so there was nothing they could do for me. I was released from the mental health system altogether and left the meeting once again considering suicide.

I had been booted out from the ambulance, and all it had done was driven me back up to the top of the cliff.

At the doctor’s office I started seeing a mental health nurse who was going to try to help find me some longer-term support. I also finally changed medication, which I had been asking for for over a year, after I told them I was going to stop taking my current one and it was their choice whether or not they would give me a new one.

Since I was now on the benefit I became eligible for counselling from the local PHO. In December my GP put a request through. It took five months and several follow-ups before I got a call from a counsellor, by which time we were in lockdown. I was contacted by a counsellor who offered me phone counselling sessions, which I was not comfortable doing with someone I hadn’t met. She said to get in touch with her when lockdown ended – she would send me her contact information to do so. She never did.

After lockdown I had to follow up again with the PHO and ended up being given six sessions with a counsellor. I am now halfway through these and feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.

Every time I meet with a new person I have to spend an hour going over my mental health history and trauma. I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve done this in the last couple of years.

People talk about how much trust and bravery this takes, but it’s even harder when you know you will probably never see this person again. I’m not sure what I’ll do next time my mental health seriously deteriorates. I’m sick of meeting new people and I won’t go back to the places that have already turned me away – and there are not many options left.

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Every time I see that list of places where you can ask for help I feel like it’s my fault because obviously I haven’t asked hard enough. The helplines are OK at offering support in that moment but they do not help past that. We need a better strategy than giving sick people a piece of paper with a list of numbers on it and let them experience rejection after rejection until they give up.

If I was given adequate support earlier on, I would never have reached the point where I had to be hospitalised. If I was given adequate support now, I’d be less likely to end up back in that position again. Right now it feels like it’s an inevitability.

Need to talk?

  • Free call or text 1737 any time for support from a trained counsellor.
  • Lifeline 0800 543 354 (0800 LIFELINE).
  • Youthline 0800 376 633, free text 234 or email talk@youthline.co.nz or online chat.
  • Samaritans 0800 726 666.
  • Suicide Crisis Helpline – 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO)
  • Depression and Anxiety Helpline – 0800 111 757 or free text 4202
Keep going!
Māngere Markets at the Māngere Town Centre in South Auckland makes close to half a million a year. (IMAGE: JUSTIN LATIF/TINA TILLER)
Māngere Markets at the Māngere Town Centre in South Auckland makes close to half a million a year. (IMAGE: JUSTIN LATIF/TINA TILLER)

AucklandSeptember 19, 2020

Locals quiz South Auckland charity over its $1.5 million cash reserve

Guest writer
Māngere Markets at the Māngere Town Centre in South Auckland makes close to half a million a year. (IMAGE: JUSTIN LATIF/TINA TILLER)
Māngere Markets at the Māngere Town Centre in South Auckland makes close to half a million a year. (IMAGE: JUSTIN LATIF/TINA TILLER)

The charity running the Māngere Markets makes close to half a million a year from a business centred on a publicly owned carpark, but distributes less than a third of its income in grants. That’s left some locals wondering whether the trust could be doing more to support the community, writes Justin Latif.

Nothing quite beats the sensory overload at Māngere’s Saturday morning markets. Pungent aromas of fresh fruit and vegetables combine with whiffs of hot coffee and deliciously oily donuts, while sound systems blare Pacific beats and stallholders holler out their best deals.

A weekly trip to the Māngere Town Centre car park is a much-loved ritual for many in the community, not only as a time to stock up the pantry, but to also catch up on the latest gossip. And it’s all made possible by The Māngere Market Trust, which, according to its website, distributes “all profits” in order to help the “people of Māngere to achieve more”.

And yet the trust has accumulated unspent funds of more than $1.5 million since it was established in 2008, predominantly from the rental of sites to market sellers, according to documents published on the charity services website. Over the last five years, the trust has brought in $2.2 million, and spent $1.7 million, giving out almost $550,000 in grants, roughly a quarter of its income.

The trust’s chairperson is Sylvia Taylor, who is well known to many in the area, having served as both a Manukau City councillor, and Māngere-Ōtāhuhu Local Board member. She also received a Queen’s Service Medal in 2014 for her services to the community.

I give her a call to get a clearer picture. When I reach her, she’s actually in the car and can only provide a brief overview, but she’s clear – the majority of the money received goes to locals.

“Our main aim of the market is to look after our area,” she says. “And the money we get from the market predominantly goes to the Māngere region. People spend it there and we give it back. We assist schools in a lot of areas, with sporting equipment, iPads for schools.”

What other examples does she have?

“We just bought an ambulance and we were really pleased about that. It’s a state-of-the-art, top-notch vehicle. Māngere doesn’t get much in the way of the best of everything. We’d prefer for it to be stationed in Māngere, but it could be stationed anywhere and it can get called out anywhere. We’ve also given a lot of money to groups like Auckland City Mission, Salvation Army, Red Cross, Starship. Over the years we’ve contributed a lot to support our community.”

That’s five large charities with a nationwide or Auckland-wide focus. Local? She does go on to mention that a key part of the trust is to support the Māngere Town Centre. If you’re not familiar with this place, it’s 49 years old, and it’s definitely seen better days.

The Māngere Markets provides a beautiful menagerie of sights, sounds and smells every Saturday morning in the heart of South Auckland. (Photo: Supplied)

My daughters and I often go for a stroll through the town centre it after I pick them from school. There’s a library, takeaway joints selling ice cream and deep-fried foods, a stage for the zumba classes, a plethora of $2 shops touting flimsy imported goods, butcheries where you can buy a whole pig and vege shops selling popular staples like taro and green bananas. Faded friezes of flowers adorn chipped pillars around the centre, while lichen seems to be building up on sections of the clear roofing overhead, yet the rain still seems to get through to the centre’s flooring tiles, making them dangerously slippery.

Taylor says the trust’s role includes keeping the town centre looking good.

“Part of our work is to support our BID [business improvement district], which is the Māngere Town Centre, so keeping the area in a good condition. On the whole, most of the money that we get from the markets goes back into the community, and that’s rare for that to happen.”

I ask about the accumulated funds, which totals $1,597,804, according to the 2019 audited performance report.

“We don’t throw our money willy-nilly around,” she says. “There may come a time that we need money for the community, and so at least we will have an investment that we can still supply the community, rather than flog it all off every time it comes in. Even though this money is there, it doesn’t mean we have to get rid of it. We’re a private trust. It’s saved for a rainy day. We plan ahead, we think seriously about every donation that we make.”

And the expenses? I ask why the trust spends between 70 and 75% of its income on running the markets.

“Nearly all of the expenses are actually for Auckland Council,” she explains. “It’s part and parcel of what you do when running a business.”

In 2019, rent for using the Māngere Town Centre car park was $79,500, but they also spend not insignificant chunks on wages for security ($20,672), salaries for staff ($41,190), cleaning ($24,038) and $18,900 for accountancy and secretarial services, which according to the auditor’s report, was provided by Kensyl Holdings Limited, a company owned by Ken and Sylvia Taylor, who are the secretary and chairperson respectively.

Given Taylor was in the car when I first made contact, I follow up with an email so she could clarify who the local organisations that the trust has funded are, but I got this response:

This is a private trust and how we distribute our funds are the sole responsibility of the trustees as prescribed in our constitution.

Information of who we make donations to are private to the Trust and the groups we make grants to. We will not compromise this confidentiality.

Regards, Ken Taylor

That will be little comfort, however, to community groups and schools struggling to fund their essential activities, for whom a slice of the $1.5 million currently sitting in the trust’s bank account could make a real difference.

A spokesperson for the Māngere-Ōtāhuhu Local Board said that while the local board does not have a say on how the markets are run, it would like to see more money given to locals. “Our local board’s preference is to see more of these funds invested in our local organisations who largely serve and support the communities of Māngere-Ōtāhuhu.”

Councillor Fa’anana Efeso Collins, who was last year named as a liaison between the council-controlled organisation Panuku Development and the Auckland Council, said he would like to see operating licences to run markets granted to groups that can show they are providing optimal benefit to their local community.

“Our markets provide an essential service in our communities as a place to shop and socialise. While I realise the commercial licences for these markets don’t specify how operators use their profits, perhaps Panuku should consider how these council-owned car parks are used, so our local communities get the maximum benefit from them.”

According to Panuku, a new commercial operating licence to run this market is set to be negotiated and it is open to any organisation to apply.

“Panuku had planned to commence discussions with the local board this year re the terms of the new licence, however this was significantly disrupted due to Covid-19, which means we are not yet in a position to commence the new market licence process,” a Panuku spokesperson said.  “However, in the interim if anyone was interested in obtaining further information they are welcome to contact Panuku’s property portfolio department through our website.”

Toni Helleur and Mia King run the Māngere Cultural Markets on Thursday nights during the summer. (Photo: Supplied)

There is certainly interest. Māngere residents Mia King and Toni Helleur have run the Māngere Cultural markets on Thursday nights over the last two summers and are very interested in the possibility of bringing their unique approach to the Saturday slot. The pair who run a local charitable trust, along with their own respective businesses, say they really respect what the current operators of the Saturday markets have been able to achieve but would love to see the markets used more creatively to encourage budding entrepreneurs.

“We love markets and we would love to know how we could be a part of the process,” said King. “As soon as we heard, which was a year and half ago, that it may be up for tender we were looking out for any advertising but council hasn’t been forthcoming about what that process would look like.”

Helleur said one key area they would like to see the market focus on is developing the local entrepreneurs in the area.

“We’d love to bring our expertise, our skillset, and our community nous and swag to develop this market to benefit everyone inside our whole community. Over the last two years we’ve seen many of the stallholders who use our market as a way to test run their products and through that they’ve been able to develop their businesses. So we’d love to see these Saturday markets used for the economic development of our community.”

Collins believes there could be a real opportunity here for Panuku to think more creatively how council-owned spaces are utilised to support communities like Māngere weather the oncoming economic headwinds.

“In these uncertain times, maybe markets like these can play a bigger part in empowering our community as a space for new entrepreneurs and creative enterprises to be developed, so they aren’t just about selling fruit and veges, but also showcasing the best of South Auckland’s burgeoning business talent,” he said.

Society