One of the most frightening experiences related to death is the sudden loss of a healthy individual, exemplified by the untimely death of Mary Ann Kenny’s husband, John. During a routine jog in the vibrant spring sunlight of Killiney, a charming coastal suburb of Dublin, John collapsed unexpectedly at the age of 60.

Mary Ann realized something was amiss only after a long work meeting when she turned on her “old-fashioned button Nokia” and found six missed calls from unknown numbers. The most devastating aspect, she conveyed, was the moment she understood she had to inform their two young sons about their father’s sudden passing.

This tragedy unfolded ten years ago in the spring of 2015. Following this traumatic event, Mary Ann experienced a psychiatric crisis, which she explores in her memoir, The Episode. To write it, the university lecturer, now 60, meticulously sifted through her extensive medical records, spanning eight volumes and 875 pages, which detail the complexities of her mental health journey following John’s death. She reflects on her records with a certain dignified frustration, likening them to “observations from a zookeeper or experimental psychologist observing a caged and frightened animal.”

Initially, Mary Ann’s grief seemed typical. Following the shocking news of her husband’s passing, she faced common symptoms such as diminished appetite, insomnia, and irregular cycles. Nevertheless, she pursued various coping strategies, including organizing a thoughtful funeral, reading self-help literature, and consulting with a therapist who had a warm demeanor.

Regular visits to Ayesha Castle (currently known as Manderley Castle) became an essential part of her healing routine. “I would leave tiny bouquets of bluebells and sprigs of colorful valerian flowers in the mock arrow slit above the spot where he had collapsed and passed away,” she writes. These gestures provided her fleeting moments of relief from her agony.

As time progressed, Mary Ann’s struggle with grief took on a new form. Initially hesitant to seek medication due to fears of addiction, she eventually tried antidepressants, only to react severely after just one dose, awakening in the night “drenched in sweat,” overwhelmed with nausea. Other physical symptoms followed, including a persistent burning sensation under her skin as well as a bout of constipation, culminating in distressing involuntary bladder incidents.

Haunted by paranoia, she began to fear she had poisoned her children. “An image of my malevolent self hovering over the stove, adding pills to the simmering food with harmful intent, tormented me,” she recalled.

Four months post John’s death, Mary Ann, now on the radar of healthcare professionals, consented to a brief stay in a psychiatric facility. Instead of being encouraged to share positive memories or escape the stresses of daily life, such as childcare arrangements and work communications, her treatment was predominantly focused on medication. “I lay there in frozen fear,” she recounted, “turning my back on the outside world, my arms tightly wrapped around myself.”

After a temporary discharge during which she told “white lies” about feeling better, Mary Ann was readmitted due to “suicidal ideation.” (In reality, she only pondered the logistics of such an act, questioning how one might perfectly align to jump in front of a speeding vehicle.)

As she underwent further tests and additional medications, her condition deteriorated. By October 2015, Mary Ann was nearing a state of both physical and mental breakdown, taking a daily mix of antidepressants, anxiolytics, sleep aids, and antipsychotics, yet still finding no reprieve from the relentless turmoil in her mind.

Drained and disoriented, she found herself confessing to things she hadn’t done, including bizarre notions like plotting to push her children off a cliff, almost fascinated by the absurdity of her admissions.

During her stay in an intensive secure unit, she felt guilty for burdening the nursing staff and, terrified of causing disruption, she cleaned up her own vomit. Fearing she might never return home and that her children would remain labeled as at risk for significant harm, she endured deep anxiety.

Fortunately, Mary Ann did manage to recover, though the process was painful and gradual—much like walking on a freshly mopped floor. She grapples with the uncertainty of whether her depression stemmed more from grief or the restrictive environment that she felt medicalized her suffering. Nevertheless, she emphasizes that despite the trauma of losing John and the distress caused by her psychosis, the psychiatric treatment was “the most traumatizing of all.”

This revealing and courageous book illustrates that breakdowns can manifest in subtle, silent ways and that anyone is vulnerable to slipping from sanity without warning. We are fortunate that Mary Ann’s writing skill enables her to articulate her encompassing mental struggle with clarity and detachment, providing valuable insights into a life almost derailed.

The Episode: A True Story of Loss, Madness and Healing by Mary Ann Kenny (Sandycove, pp288).