By Garry Howe
Restless nights weren’t uncommon for Phil Anning back in 2011 as he battled his inner demons.
One night, fed up with the tossing and turning, he got up, walked to the kitchen, selected a carving blade from the knife block and walked outside with the intention of ending his life.
He says he was sulky and anti-social and thought his behavioral changes and mood swings were becoming a burden to wife Donna and son Jack and that was the best way to stop his – and their – pain.
As he stood in the cold air howling his eyes out while figuring out the best way to perform the fatal act, he felt a rubbing sensation on his leg.
It was the family dog, Heidi, who sensed something was wrong.
That unexpected contact caused Phil to pause and reflect. He and the dog had never really connected to that point, but he figured that if she cared enough to intervene, others would be worried about him as well.
He walked back inside, slid the knife back into the block, went back to bed and didn’t speak of that event for months.
Phil Anning cuts a familiar figure around Pakenham and surrounds. He grew up in a house in Main Street, spent his working life in retail, predominantly locally, and has been heavily involved in local sport.
He has been president of the Pakenham Cricket Club since 2008 and was team manager of the senior football side for eight years.
The many people who know him would describe him as being jovial, content, popular and well connected. Words like depressed and suicidal would never come to mind.
Yet that’s where he found himself a decade ago.
Phil’s battle came to the surface in 2010.
He was having a lot of trouble sleeping and went to the doctor hoping to be prescribed some sleeping pills.
“The doctor wasn’t keen to hand the pills over willy-nilly and he wanted to get to the bottom of why I wasn’t sleeping,” Phil recalled.
“We spoke about a few issues and he said: ‘Mate, you may have depression’.
“I had not given that a thought at all.”
Phil was referred to a counsellor, who drilled down ever more and started to ask about his behavior and energy, both of which were wildly inconsistent.
They came to the conclusion that was it – he was suffering from depression.
Phil worked for Woolworths at the time and he can’t speak highly enough of their response to his diagnosis. They immediately arranged for ongoing counselling and gave him Wednesday afternoons off for that purpose.
It transpired that a trigger for his depression was being made redundant as a result of the Wesfarmers takeover of Coles two years prior.
He had been with Coles for 34 years – the only job he had after school – and had worked his way up to regional manager by that time.
Initially, the redundancy didn’t worry him.
“My theory was that Wesfarmers paid that much for the company that they could do what they liked. I was a victim of their restructure, but that was fine. I had six months off and went on a holiday.”
It wasn’t until he got back into the workforce, with the rival supermarket giant, that it started to play on his mind.
“I still had friends working there and I started to wonder why I was made redundant instead of them. What did I do wrong?
“It takes time to trigger something in your head and you start to have self-doubts about your ability, which messes with your self-esteem and can cause anxiety and stress.”
Further counselling drilled down even further to his family life.
One day the discussion centred around his father Jack, who died of cancer in 1983, aged only 57.
It transpired that in the 27 years that had passed since his death, Phil had never been to visit his resting place in Springvale Crematorium.
“When he was dying I didn’t visit him because I didn’t want to remember him as a frail man with cancer,” Phil explained. “After 27 years, I was feeling guilty about not paying respect to my childhood hero. All these things tend to build up over time.”
Phil says the key to recovery is being able to talk openly and honestly about the problem.
Part of the reason he agreed to open up about his struggle with the Gazette was to assure the many people who find themselves out of a job as a result of the Covid-19 lockdown that there is a path forward.
“I have been open and honest about it since I was diagnosed,” he said. “If anyone asked me if I was going okay I would tell them, but I haven’t taken a full page ad out in the Gazette to let people know.
“It’s amazing when you talk to people about it how many others are in the same boat.
“If me coming out publicly and talking about it helps one person or family, then it’s all worthwhile. Hopefully it opens their eyes to the fact that they’re not alone and that this is a deep problem within our society.”
Phil says there can be skepticism about mental health and a lot of people see it as an excuse.
“Too many see it as a sign of weakness. I used to be one of those. I managed 200 people at one stage and when someone presented with a work certificate for depression I would ask myself how could they suffer from that. They didn’t seem depressed, but I only saw them for eight hours a day. I didn’t know what they were dealing with outside of work hours.
“People have to be a lot more understanding – and we are getting a hell of a lot better at it.”
Not long after Phil was diagnosed, someone from the football club told son Jack that his father was just seeking attention, given his outgoing personality.
“You’ve got this persona and people think you’re relaxed and jovial, but that can be a façade. That’s the way you want to be perceived, but you’re kidding yourself and all the people around you.
“I can still have a joke, but there were days from 2010 to 2014 there were days I couldn’t get out of bed.”
That incident with Jack aside, Phil says his involvement with the cricket and football clubs has been a godsend.
His heavy involvement as president of the cricket club for the past 12 years has given him a focus outside family and work and the likes of Jock Holland and Dan and Tom O’Loughlin have been great in keeping that involvement at the football club as well as team manager.
“People at the cricket club have been terrific and I can’t thank those three at the football club in particular enough for taking me under their wing and supporting me tremendously. I have been able to keep my mind and body occupied, which is great.”
Phil is fully aware of the pressure the current Covid-19 lockdown will be putting on those struggling with their mental health.
With that in mind, a few weeks back he started running a Saturday afternoon tipping competition, where participants part with $5 a week and select a horse in each race at the Melbourne metropolitan meeting. A notional $1 is placed on that selection and the punter with the highest total at the end of the day wins the pool.
Phil hoped to get 30 or 40 involved when he kicked it off. Last Saturday there were 98 participants.
“So many people have said how good it is to have the tipping comp to look forward to of a Saturday,” he said.
“The longer this isolation takes place the harder it’s going to be on people’s mental health. If you’ve got too much time on your hands you can tend to over-complicate things.”
Phil says being open, honest and wanting to talk about your problem is the key to getting on top of it.
“I would tell people don’t be embarrassed by it. You are not alone; there are a lot more out there dealing with it than people know about,” he said.
“You don’t think it can happen to you. I would have never thought it would happen to me.
“They key is to talk to someone. There are some wonderful people out there and organisations like Beyondblue and Lifeline that can help as well.”
These days Phil says he has more good days than bad.
He has been on medication daily since that initial diagnosis and access to a counsellor when required, which is becoming less frequent.
“I am in a pretty good place.”
Every year now on his Dad’s birthday, wedding anniversary and the date of his passing, Phil heads out to his resting place at Springvale to pay quiet homage.
“I just go in myself, don’t tell anyone I’m going. It’s just something I do now.”
As for Heidi, her relationship with Phil changed that cold night back in 2011.
“Growing up, we always had cats at home and I was never really into dogs. I didn’t have a lot of time for her, but it all changed that day.
“When she died a few years back I actually cried.”
· If you need help call the Lifeline Australia Crisis and Support Line on 13 11 14 or Beyondblue on 1300 22 4636.
