Mental illness is not pretty. Mental illness is largely
misunderstood by people in general.
For me, it involves a sort of complete, total
transformation of who I am and my being.
Reverend Imoa Setefano is speaking out about his experiences
with bi-polar disorder.
He wants his community to learn before they judge.
This weekend, I want to encourage all our Pacific people,
island-born or New Zealand born,
In fact, all New Zealanders, to increase your
awareness of mental illness.
Bipolar is a mood disorder
and sometimes known as manic depression.
As well as sometimes feeling extremely low,
people go through periods of mania.
They often have rapid thoughts and sleeplessness,
as well as delusions of grandeur.
Our culture has set stereotypes, as probably all cultures do,
of what we do with mentally disabled people,
mentally unwell people. We cast them away.
We label them and then we box them, and we say that,
"Yeah, that's their curse."
He was 17 and a school leader when he had his first manic episode
in front of the school assembly.
Imoa gave an impromptu and incoherent speech.
And then I start ranting and raving about a sports report from the weekend,
and then I go off in all sorts of tangents, and then all I hear is
the deputy principal saying, "Imoa, that's enough."
One of the main reasons why I have the confidence
and freedom to share my personal story --
It's a huge rush.
-- They don't have the ability -- You become out of control.
Then Jesus went home, and the crowd gathered again.
You lose coherence, I can't really talk properly, I'm actually
I rattle off a 100 miles per hour as I'm thinking.
I will not reason with anyone.
Physically I become very, very difficult to contain.
You actually feel that you have some sort of superior knowledge.
When I'm driving, I think I am actually like a Formula One driver,
that I can overtake people and stuff.
They went out to seize him for they were saying, "He is out of his mind."
When you're in that manic state, doesn't anybody have to
talk to you to make you see reason?
I wouldn't able to receive it, to accept them.
I would have been so high, that I'd say, "Okay yeah, whatever,"
then I'll just carry on, doing whatever thing.
Imoa's first episode was completely debilitating.
He woke in a psychiatric ward with a hazy memory of the school assembly.
I had a lot of lonely nights in the psychiatric ward.
[praying in Samoan]
I questioned a lot of things. I questioned God.
I questioned my parents, I questioned... why, why me?
And for me, that was the sort of stigma
or discrimination that was going on.
♪[melancholy piano music]♪
He's the humblest guy, loving, friendly,
and you know, the man of your dreams when he's not manic.
But when he's manic, he's different.
He is like the opposite to that.
Life is good for Imoa these days,
but the lows he's experienced have been crippling.
When my wife and I were going out, I thought we were going to break up.
So I come home, drink all my pills as quick as I can,
and then go to sleep, and basically it was a suicide attempt.
But I came to. And again it was a matter of rebuilding,
thinking again, "Hey, God does not want me to die."
Experience with mental illness is different for everyone.
In 15 years, Imoa has had eight episodes of mania.
Staying well takes work, and Imoa's family help by just being there.
And it reminds me of my responsibility that I have
to my children, to my family, as the father figure,
as a role model, as someone to look up to,
and also as someone to lean on.
Imoa has a Masters in Theology.
He and his wife Amilia are student pastors.
They were studying in Samoa and had been married for four years
before Amilia witnessed Imoa's manic episodes for the first time.
I think it was quite scary for me, never seen him like that.
It was like being with someone that ... a totally different person.
It was like...it was very scary because I didn't know what to expect.
With no treatment available in Samoa, the couple came home to New Zealand.
I was able to tell him what actually happened,
and he only remembered, you know, a few things of
what had happened, when he had that episode,
but I think a lot of that was... when I was telling him, he was like,
"Wow! Did I do that or did I say that, or was I like that?"
Well done! well done!
As a father, husband and pastor,
Imoa was perfect for Like Minds Like Mine,
a mental health awareness campaign to reduce stigma and discrimination.
It's important that people see that community leaders
can actually speak from one who's experienced mental illness.
Imoa sort of sees it it's a second calling,
helping the Samoan and wider community understand mental illness.
Guys like him need acceptance, love and support.
Good running, guys. Good running.
I always tell him that you know, don't use his mental illness
as something that's going to bring him down.
Use it to be able to help others, help others that are going through, you know,
what he's gone through, and maybe let them come out,
and also do try to encourage others to actually see the good side of it
and not just see them as some sort of minority group
that they need to be outcasted into some little, you know, spot.
[rugby players shouting]
Mental illness is not a lifetime sentence.
It's something that you do experience for a period of time,
but it is something that can be worked through and lived through.
And with the right kind of support, with enough information and awareness,
and education, all these episodes, or all these cases
where we thought that mental illness was a curse from God,
or a curse because of a sin, can actually be worked through quite practically.
[children shouting]