David's journey to hell and back the inspiration for helping others

DAVID Barry is the kind of man who would stand out in any crowd – his fedora hat, white hair and smart outfit set him apart from his more soberly dressed fellow humans.

But he also stands out for another, far more profound reason. David is campaigning to change people’s attitudes to mental illness and to that end, he is happy to discuss the dreadful health problems which plagued him for 17 years, leaving him institutionalised for an extensive period of his life.

The former road manager with De Dannan has now gathered together many of his friends and former musical colleagues for a major gig in the Radisson Hotel next Thursday night, December 19. The Old De Dannan concert will raise funds for the organisation Changing Minds, which screens people for counselling and if it’s necessary, provides it for free.

Changing Minds is run by himself and Anjie O’Donnell, both of whom have had severe psychiatric illness and who want to help free others from the misery that they endured.

Born in Salthill, David went to England for seven years during the late 1960s doing “the Paddy thing”.

He eventually grew homesick and returned to Ireland and Galway. Back home, he met Alec Finn in the Cellar Bar and they became friends. At the time Alec was working in Spiddal, as a gate keeper for Lord Killanin, living in the gate lodge of the big house. David eventually moved out to Spiddal, sharing a house with Alec, whose musical career was about to take off.

“De Dannan was born and about a year later I joined them as Tour Manager. I wasn’t great at the job,” he laughs, “but I loved it.” David spent 18 months in the role and, after he left, remained friendly with the members.

“Then I got sick. I woke up one morning and I was depressed and that was the start of 17 years of hell.”

In total, he spent seven and a half years in psychiatric units, suffering from depression and, later, bipolar disorder, but on that first day, he hadn’t a clue what was wrong with him.

“I sat in the apartment and tried to figure it out. I had thought I was aware of things that went on in life, but I hadn’t been aware at all.”He went to his GP, who referred him to a psychiatric unit. “I was put on anti-depressants straight away and think I spent four months there.”David explains what depression feels like, but the words only convey some of the awfulness of what he experienced.

“I had no appetite, I couldn’t sleep, I had no concentration, I had a total lack of self esteem, I felt worthless, shameful, a burden on society and I didn’t want to live.”

His form of depression was unusual, he says in that he got sick overnight and, then better overnight. “With other people it happens slowly. In my case it was quickly.”

That brought its own misery.

“One morning after 10 months in the psychiatric unit, I felt better and told the psychiatrist I was going home. Five days later I was back in the unit, and this time I was there for three and half years.”

During his illness David made three major attempts to end his life, overdosing twice and trying to hang himself on another occasion. “But for some peculiar reason, I think it wasn’t meant to be,” he says.David’s illness did not respond to drugs – at one stage he was on 39 tablets a day with no benefits. Unsurprisingly both he and his psychiatrist became frustrated. And even during periods when the depression lifted, he wasn’t well.

“I wasn’t functioning, I was very reclusive and a total loner. I was just waiting for it to happen again and invariably, it did.” Back in hospital “I would struggle into the toilet and relieve myself, throw water on my face, wash my hands and head back to bed and put a pillow over my head”.

David didn’t eat, surviving mostly on high nutrition drinks.

For more, read page 27 of this week's Galway City Tribune