Paul Whatuira
How te reo saved my life
Aroha. It is only five letters but one of the most beautiful and powerful words in te reo Maori. And it is a key in helping Kiwi rugby league hero Paul Whatuira stay in the light after emerging from the darkness of mental illness which cost him his sporting career, his marriage and nearly his life.
‘‘Love is the answer to all pain,’’ says Whatuira, 35, in New Zealand to share his heart-rending but ultimately inspirational story, to give hope to others.
His homecoming will further strengthen the two-time NRL premiership-winner and Kiwis test star’s bonds with his Ngati Kahungunu and Tainui whakapapa. A reconnection with his whanau and culture includes studying te reo in an online course through Te Wananga O Raukawa.
‘‘Learning about my culture is my medication these days,’’ says Whatuira, who has revealed he was on heavy prescription medication for five years after a psychotic episode in 2009 which plunged him into a personal hell.
Now healthy-looking with a ready smile, Whatuira will today be at Mount Smart Stadium in Auckland with Wests Tigers, the club with whom he won the 2005 grand final and which recently appointed him Education and Wellbeing Officer. He will be watching them play the Warriors, the club where he made his debut as an 18-year-old midfield sensation from Wainuiomata.
The memories he is likely to share with star-struck fans will be in stark contrast to the depression and breakdown he suffered half a world away, in England, which spelled the end of his brilliant career.
The trigger for his breakdown was what should have been joyous news – that his then partner Venessa was pregnant with their first child.
Instead it brought back terrible memories from his own childhood.
Whatuira says his devoted parents did their best for him. But growing up he witnessed alcohol and drug abuse and domestic violence. ‘‘At a young age, unfortunately, I saw some things that I should not have seen.’’
At age six, Whatuira says, he was molested by a 12-year-old boy. He did not tell anyone of the abuse.
‘‘I guess I just shut it out and I just kind of moved forward, and I never really thought about what happened to me. It was becoming a father myself, and the responsibility of being a father brought back those memories of the abuse and my surroundings … That’s when the mental health issues started to really hit me.’’ Whatuira says he became increasingly depressed over several months, until a psychotic episode after seven days with no sleep. The psychosis was so severe, he heard voices inside his head telling him to kill Venessa and their unborn baby, he says. ‘‘It’s the scariest time in my life,’’ an emotional Whatuira says. ‘‘Those voices were very real. Venessa called the ambulance, and I was taken to the hospital to get away from Venessa and my unborn child, to protect them.’’ But he says he ‘‘broke out’’ of the hospital and – still in the grip of his mental illness, and filled with ‘‘rage and anger’’ – attacked two men, innocent passers-by. Police used a Taser on him, and he spent four weeks in a secure psychiatric facility. He was not charged over the incident after being deemed ‘‘mentally ill’’. Whatuira regrets the harm he caused the two men, ‘‘but I had no control over my actions’’. He has tried to reach out to his victims but ‘‘understandably’’ without success. ‘‘Hopefully one day I’ll get to make peace.’’
Despite being physically fit, his state of mind meant his sport suffered. ‘‘I couldn’t reach my fullest potential as an athlete, being heavily sedated throughout the day as well as preparing for the first time to become a father. I had no other option but to step away from the game.’’ Having to retire was shattering. ‘‘It was very sad. I just proposed to Venessa, who was pregnant – things are going great, playing great football. All I wanted to do as a young child is to become a professional rugby league player, and I was doing that – and all of a sudden it was taken away from me.’’
Whatuira says he tried to move on with his life, marrying Venessa, who had given birth to their daughter, Gabrielle Kaea.
‘‘I wanted to prove to her, and I wanted to prove to my family, that I was still strong. We had the wedding in the Cook Islands, and two days later I had another psychotic episode. My parents practically had to carry me back to Aotearoa after the episode in front of my family and friends. I have never felt so lifeless and embarrassed as that moment.
‘‘I was back to the hospital again, for two months. Back to square one again. And that’s when, in 2011, I started to suffer from paranoia.’’
Whatuira, who returned to Sydney, says he ‘‘disconnected from my family and friends, my former team-mates, I was in a little bubble. For instance I might have a family member text me and I’d look at that one text message for 30 minutes trying to analyse why this person is trying to hurt me.
‘‘If one letter was missing from that word I’d believe that somebody was hurting me – that’s paranoia. The only way that I could protect myself was to be on my own.’’ His marriage didn’t survive. ‘‘I was there physically for my partner and my child – the first three years of her life – but spiritually and mentally I wasn’t there. Venessa was very loving and caring towards me, and very supportive, but I couldn’t return to that. I couldn’t love her back, because I didn’t love myself.’’
Whatuira’s despair became so severe he twice tried to end his life, he says.
‘‘The last time I did try, I saw a picture of my daughter, and that stopped me.’’ He was taken to hospital, ‘‘and I remember the doctor telling me that if I was to take my own life there will be a higher percent chance that my daughter will follow in the same footsteps as myself, and I couldn’t leave that legacy to my daughter.’’
Determined to take control of his life, he says he decided in 2014 to stop the medication he had been told he would always need.
‘‘I just studied my own mind and educated myself and just followed my instincts.’’
While he stresses most people with mental illness such as he was suffering need to be on medication, he felt it wasn’t working for him.
‘‘Nothing was able to unlock my pain, and I had to find something to escape the pain that I was feeling every day.’’
He devoured self-help books, attended wellbeing courses, surrounded himself with positive people and reconnected with friends, whanau and former teammates.
‘‘Learning about my culture and my Maori bloodlines and finding my identity through that aspect as well, was a big turning point for me.
‘‘Throughout my whole career I always thought that I could be somebody through being a professional athlete. I thought that rugby league was who I am.
‘‘But, you find your true identity within yourself, and your family, and your roots. I challenged my negative thoughts and reconnected with family and friends who truly loved me and I learned the true values of who I am and what I’m about, and to pay my respects to my ancestors who laid the footprints for me.
‘‘I’m still learning. I have a long way to go, but I know who I am, I know my identity through my Maori bloodlines, and that’s gotten me to where I’m at today.’’
Marking his true identity is a ta moko adorning his left chest, shoulder and back. The work was done by artist Tuta Tuheke at Mokomania studio in Sydney.
Whatuira says it was done when he had been trying to find himself after an injury crisis in his league career.
Tuheke – ‘‘a great man in his craft’’ – had explained the profound meaning behind the designs. ‘‘But at the time I wasn’t really looking with my heart, I was just looking for the image.
‘‘Then I went through my journey and for me to get healthy again I had to go back to the carvings that Tuta put on me and to learn my Maori bloodlines and to learn the true meaning behind the ta moko. And to understand that wherever I go, my ancestors walk with me and I’m not alone. And that’s been my healing.’’
Whatuira, through his company Internal Strength, has moved into the public speaking arena, telling his story to league teams across Australia and high schools in Sydney.
Last week, he spoke to students at his home school, Wainuiomata High.
‘‘I share my journeys, through my upbringing, and through my career, and obviously through my mental health issues. Most importantly, I share with the audiences my values and the tools that I live by every day.’’
Those tools include learning to enjoy living in the moment and appreciating the little things in life.
Whatuira says many people in his audiences can relate to what he has been through. Knowing how good it feels to be well again, he is delighted to think he may be helping others recover, too.
‘‘Suicide rates are big in New Zealand and Australia, mental illness affects a lot of people – one in four so, the more people I can help, the better. I am grateful that I’m able to share my journey because there’s a lot of people who don’t make it.’’
Part of his wellness is letting go of blame for hurtful things in his past. ‘‘I’ve forgiven everybody and I forgive myself. Jealousy and hatred – that’s the stuff that will keep you down.’’
He says he has learnt how to love again, including himself, and has a great relationship with his daughter – something he cherishes.
‘‘I found giving and being loving to others is the key to life sharing and helping one another. I’m just so grateful and happy to be living my life again, to be alive.’’