This is my foster home
where a lot of my suicide attempts happened.
This is the carport
where I tried to commit suicide
and obviously it's still standing today.
Yeah.
My best memory here is when we used to have
war games with our neighbourhood kids
and we would always win because we had the grapefruits
while on the other side there's the feijoas
but it was a lot of fun.
My mum had a really loud Honda Prelude, a red one
and literally we could hear it from up the road
before it comes into our driveway
and that day I didn't hear anything
and I guess it's because all I was thinking,
walking home was, today I'm going, I don't care anymore.
I hate life.
I didn't know why I was given life.
I'm just gonna go.
I checked everywhere in the house, no one was at home.
So I thought, yes, today is gonna succeed.
But, just when I was getting everything prepared,
she barges in my door
and she hugs me.
And it's a hug I'll never forget.
It was a hug to say that I'm here
and she always says, "You're my girl."
And just constantly speaking to me,
just feeding life into me.
But on that day,
all I wanted was just to be gone,
I just didn't want anyone else to worry about me.
I just didn't know it was an issue.
I just thought it was normal.
That, the sexual abuse at a young age,
I thought that was normal.
Being abused in your own home,
physically, I thought that was normal.
And that I'm the dumb one that didn't know how to deal with it.
That's why I just never really thought
it was something that I needed to get help for.
I just didn't know how to do connection
and I didn't have trust, major trust issues.
I just didn't know how to describe what was happening inside.
I miss her.
But I'm just so grateful
for everything that she had taught me.
I feel so grateful that I had someone to unpack my hurt.
And actually put a word to it, yeah.
I feel blessed.
I've attempted, like, I've lost count,
lost count of how many times I tried to see Jesus early.
I would have been 15, yeah, 15.
Dad was saying,
"Oh, you're too old to have thoughts like that."
I was just like, oh okay, well that's great,
'cause then, that to me,
just confirms that I will never have
this conversation with him,
'cause they just wouldn't get it.
So I was like, okay, that's it, I'm not gonna ever have a talk about
depression or suicide because to them,
it's silly, it's a stupid thing.
I mean as Pacific Islanders we're always told,
what happens at home, stays at home.
You don't take your drama out,
you don't go talk about it.
No one would want to communicate or express their feelings,
especially if you're being mocked about it.
Your feelings are your own feelings,
you can't help if you feel that way,
but people just don't get it.
And it's just a joke to them,
especially the Pacific Islanders.
It's because they don't believe in mental health.
They believe in getting hidings.
My car is to me, my sanctuary, it's my go to.
It's my safe haven.
I think it's because I have,
it's the one place I know I have control of,
because it's my own car,
because it's like, I bought it with my own money.
It's not my parents' car,
it's not like I took a loan or anything,
I paid it all off.
Sometimes I like to park up in my own driveway
and sleep in my car,
or my cousin's driveway.
In my car, I'm just like,
I get to go around and move everywhere,
but I'm also hidden and away from everybody
so it's just like no one can find me
'cause I will choose to drive to Hamilton for ice cream.
Being Pacific and being trans or gay,
there's so much more weight to that
and I think it's 'cause as Pacific Islanders,
we're so ridden on religion
and religion and then at home, religion,
and church and culture,
and it's just like you have to be this, you have to do that.
The relationship between church and mental health
in the Pacific community is a very, very complicated one
that requires a lot of unpacking
and there aren't consistent messages.
I mean, we've all heard the stories about
young people taking their lives in churches
and that's devastating.
Christianity has turned that into
puke tēvolo (devil sickness),
or a curse actually,
even just the idea of a curse is very unhelpful
so you rock up as a Tongan person
and try and explain to the mental health practitioner
in front of them that it's a curse
and they see that as incredibly unhelpful
and I think sometimes it's just the languaging
or I think that the challenges
for us to collectively create an environment
that is worthy of our young people
that's accepting and loving
but then also to create young people
that feel worthy of the world.
Those are the two kind of things,
I think it just all boils down to that.
It's a hard to time to grow up for our Pacific young people
and if we can accept that
and accept them, kind of come as you are, who you are,
and just try and create loving relationships,
that's the best suicide prevention
that is available really.