'Glad I'm still here': Amelia Kerr turns pain into passion

Content warning: This story contains content about suicide

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Amelia Kerr knew suicide too well at too young an age. Through her teenage years in Tawa, a small community on the outskirts of Wellington in the south of New Zealand's North Island, Kerr felt engulfed by it.

"It happened a lot throughout school," the 22-year-old tells cricket.com.au. "I also had family members and friends come to me who were suicidal.

"Just being so surrounded by it in a way – the topic, and it happening – it almost became a normal thing."

Yet her perception of normality was askew, and what she was less conscious of at the time was the way its impact was gradually, and silently, undoing her. As an empathetic person, Kerr found herself saddled by the weight of the misery around her; in the community, among her peer group. The more she looked to stoically shoulder the burdens of others, the greater the load became.

"I felt the weight of emotions quite heavily," she says, "and it just became too much for me."

* * *

Over the space of a couple of long conversations during the Women's Big Bash, in which she is currently prepping for finals with the Brisbane Heat, it is enlightening to learn the two periods Kerr pinpoints as, one, the best year of her life, and two, the worst week.

"I've always thought when I was about 12 years old was the best year of my life," she says. "And then, when I look back on my teenage years, I actually struggled quite a lot, internally.

"And then obviously, it got really bad when I was 20, 21."

It is obvious because life for Kerr – both the highs and the lows – has been played out publicly since even before she burst onto the scene as a 16-year-old leg-spinning allrounder, one earmarked for superstardom that abruptly arrived soon after when she hammered a world record 232no and took five wickets in the same ODI, against Ireland in 2018.

She was just 17 and still years of serious struggle away from understanding herself, let alone possessing the wherewithal to negotiate the suffocating constancy of contemporary fame.

Image Id: 2EE51537A8CB459D870871C4D539DAF1 Image Caption: An 18-year-old Kerr was an established star at the 2018 T20 World Cup // Getty

From the outside, Kerr took it all on admirably, diligently maintaining both her standards and her smile as she became a consistent force on the international stage. And so her withdrawal from a series last year against England for mental health reasons took many by surprise.

Which brings us to the worst week of her life. Kerr references it in her new series, Treading Water, which is a powerful collection of video interviews and monologues (including from Kerr herself) from seven New Zealanders – some high profile, some close friends or relatives of Kerr's – who have dealt with mental health issues in various guises for various reasons.

"Last year in about June-July, I was at a White Ferns camp," she says. "I'd had no sleep weeks before that. I ended up getting to the camp after the worst week of my life and just didn't know how I was going to face another day. Didn't know how I was physically going to be able to function anymore. It wasn't sustainable, how I was coping. That's when people stepped in at New Zealand Cricket and they sent me home."

Ask Kerr to elaborate on the specifics of that week, and you best brace yourself for the depth of the response, which is at once candid and heartbreaking and harrowing. Some of it is revealed slowly, a nervy, staccato rhythm to her sentences, while other thoughts come rapid-fire, bumping into one another as they tumble out.

"There were all these past events, probably past traumas that I hadn't dealt with," she begins. "I just remember that week being long, and horrible – a week that probably felt like a year.

"I couldn't sleep; there was this voice in my head screaming at me. I would go to bed at night crying. Wake up crying because I was scared of repeating that same hard process, and because you're so overwhelmed by the day, and you've probably had two hours sleep and you just don't know how you're going to function and get through and then you have to go out to the world and pretend you're okay, and just fake what's truly going on inside.

"I just wasn't me. I wasn't me at all. I was a shell of myself. There was nothing to me. I actually didn't know how I was physically functioning. Night-time just got too hard, I couldn't close my eyes. It almost felt like my whole body was being paralysed. Physically, it was becoming painful. The voice was telling me thoughts, horrible thoughts, telling me that I wasn't good enough, and that if I talked about it, you'd be bringing people down with you, and it's better if you're not here anymore because of how sad you are. And it was just constant.

"The only time it stopped was when I was hitting cricket balls, and at that time I had a broken finger so I couldn't really do that, but I was so desperate for that break, I'd go in and do 30 minutes of top-hand drop-and-drive drills, just so I could have a break from my head.

"And then that would be done, and it was back on. It just felt all inside of me – in my head and in my body – and I couldn't escape, it was just on repeat for so long."

The insidious whisperings of suicide pushed Kerr to her breaking point. While it had been sadly synonymous with her community as a teen, she explains: "for it to then start coming into my own thoughts, I didn't know how to cope with it."

* * *

Robbie Kerr was never prone to crying in front of his children. A former first-class cricketer himself, schooled in the hardworking suburbs of Wellington, such outpourings of emotion weren't exactly de rigueur for men of his generation.

His daughter's battle with mental health changed all that. Amelia Kerr has spoken openly about the way her family saved her from the depths of depression, though the leading role her dad played is only wholly detailed on Treading Water, while she has this to add to cricket.com.au: "I was getting better, still living at home, and I remember Dad said to me at one point, 'I've cried every day for the last month. I know you're going to get better, but as a parent, it just breaks your heart'."

Moved to deliver a speech to his daughter at a family intervention after she was sent home from that White Ferns camp, Kerr Snr offered wisdom and poignancy in a room already overflowing with emotion.

"Right now, everything probably seems overwhelming – you're probably wishing everyone would just leave you alone," he said. "But that's not how we roll in this family. When one of us needs something, or is broken, we swarm. We turn up and we don't leave until we know that whoever it is, is okay to go it alone again.

"You are broken, Melie, and you are sad, and you are so obviously in pain. And we're here, and we're not leaving you.

"We know with all our hearts, that you can feel better. We know with all our hearts that you want to feel better. And we know with all our hearts that you will feel better.

"What you need to know … is that you need help, and more help than we can give you. You need professional help, and we will get it for you, because we are not giving up on you, and we won't let you give up on yourself.

"We love you happy, we love you sad, we love you when you are on top of the world, and we love you when you are broken. We love you enough to say, 'Let us help you Melie'."

Even amid her depression, Kerr had made a habit of journalling in a notebook she kept at her bedside. When she was admitted to hospital and placed in the care of a crisis team shortly after that intervention, she remembers writing for hours. Looking back, she can single out her most important sentence – one that she later read aloud to her family.

"This message was key for me because I have such an amazing family where we're so loved and we're so close," she explains, "but during that time, you just feel so alone and like you're a burden, you forget that.

"And so I just wrote: 'This family doesn't need to be told, but hug your loved ones longer, and tell them how much you love them, because even when you know how much, it never hurts to be reminded when you are in the darkest of places'."

It is in those notebooks that the origins for Treading Water can also be traced. In the throes of her own crisis, the always empathetic Kerr – she who had worked as a teacher's aide at Tawa Intermediate School to assist children with autism while the cricket world waited at her feet; she who felt the pain of others so acutely that it ultimately triggered her own mental health spiral – resolved to find a way to help.

First though, she knew she had to fix herself – for herself.

"When I got sent home from that training camp … and I moved back home with my parents, I wasn't in a good place at all," Kerr says. "But in (trying to get better) it was more, 'every day is a struggle, but I'm gonna get better for my family', just because I saw how broken they were. It wasn't necessarily for myself.

"And then a few months after that (intervention), I went with one of my best mates over to Martinborough, over the hill from Wellington.

"We were (planning on) going for this walk along the (Putangirua) Pinnacles, around the coast, and I woke up that morning, and it was the first morning in how long I can remember where I felt happy, where I hadn't felt overwhelmed or stressed for the day. I was like, 'I'm actually excited for today'. It just kind of hit me, and it felt so good.

"After that day, there were some good days with in-between bad days. It wasn't consistent, but I just realised that there was hope, that those bad days weren't gonna be around forever – it's going to get better, and I'm going to get better for myself as well as my family."

* * *

Kerr isn't treading water anymore. For the past 12 months, she has returned to the carousel of international cricket. Against India in her comeback series in February, she produced the batting form of her career to date, while the year since has taken in a World Cup, Commonwealth Games and Caribbean tour with New Zealand, as well as The Hundred in the UK and currently the Big Bash. Throughout, she has been an outstanding contributor with bat and ball, a fact most recently highlighted by her inclusion in the WBBL's official team of the tournament.

As the first step back, the Indian series was one of particular significance. While she doesn't necessarily correlate strong performances with being in a good place mentally (on the field, she believes she can "switch off" and focus on the task at hand regardless), it was the emotions Kerr experienced that reassured her she was where she was supposed to be.

"When I came into the Indian series, where I was mentally in a better place, there was just so much more, one, appreciation for life, and then gratitude for being back with the White Ferns," she says.

"As well as getting into that zone (to perform well) that I feel like I can get into whether I'm in a good or bad place, there was just this joy and appreciation and happiness to be back. And I guess a reflection on how far I've come to be back playing and doing what I love."

None of which is to say it has been a seamless transition. Kerr always hoped she would return but to do so has meant tackling the anxiety she feels around leaving family and friends for extended periods, and spending too much time in hotel rooms, alone with her thoughts. Initially, there were other, more minor matters to consider as well.

"I was just nervous about being away from where I'd built this support of safety, but the team was really good," she says. "The manager always made sure I was rooming with someone that I was very close to, or comfortable with … at that point in time, I didn't want to room with certain people, because I didn't want them to see me take my medication in the morning and at night.

"So there were all these thoughts I was having, but in the end, each time I went away for those little stints it just got easier. I just had to get used to it, and fortunately, I had a good support network around me and the White Ferns, it's a team that is like family, so I'm very, very lucky to have people there I can talk to if I need to."

Kerr has also taken comfort in routine (for example, she won't go to bed without first putting her phone away and reading a book – a practice she insists helps her wind down, as well as sleep better), in continuing to journal, in keeping busy, and in staying connected to home.

At the Heat, she has been boosted for much of the tournament by the presence of her older sister Jess, who is also a NZ international, while the pair had family visit, as well as Amelia's partner, during a 10-day stint in Brisbane that the younger sibling says has helped break up the time away.

"If they hadn't come, I think it would have been harder, just in terms of missing people and being away from home," Kerr says. "But I'm going good. And I'm enjoying it, but I am getting to that point where I am very excited to get home … I just can't wait to be with my people again."

* * *

A problem that can often accompany the rise of a prodigious young sportsperson is weight of expectation. Kerr was a classic case in point. Far from her achievements and popularity providing her with a foundation of self-confidence, they instead did the opposite, tugging away at her insecurities as she strove for unattainable standards.

As she has come to better understand herself, and become "more empathetic" with herself, she has shed that feeling, replacing it with something much more authentic and dependable. 

"There was a lot on perfectionism in my makeup, and how I thought I had to be," she says. "I was so hard on myself (because) I just (thought I) had to live by this (idea of) perfection, and that me showing emotion wasn't okay.

"I think that's been the best part to my recovery … I've just fully accepted that (being imperfect) is a part of life, and that's okay – it actually makes us more human, and there's no such thing as perfect.

"I know now that if I stop putting that pressure on myself to be a certain way constantly, I'm actually going to be better off for it, and more real.

"To try to live up to these standards I had for myself that I could never reach was never going to ever satisfy me, and it was going to be a pretty tough way to live my life."

Instead, Kerr says she is now "really happy … and more myself than I've ever been".

She talks about gratitude in terms of a general appreciation for life, as well as for the little things, but equally she is aware her mental health journey is ongoing.

"I'm definitely in the best place I've ever been in, but in saying that, there is a heaviness that I carry around with me," she says. "That's probably from the experiences I've had, and the dark thoughts I've had, and that heaviness sometimes just hits.

"But I know that's probably still part of the healing process. I think with time the heaviness will pass, and if I get reminded by things or look back on this time, there is a sadness, but also a sense of achievement in how far I've come to get where I am now."

It is this kind of wisdom Kerr feels dutybound to share far and wide, and last month she began doing exactly that with the launch of Treading Water. Like its creator, the series is deep and thought-provoking and tinged with sorrow, but the overarching message is one of hope.

"I had this idea of trying to get a range of different people's stories out there, just because I know how alone you feel when you're going through something, and I wanted to show that you're not alone," she says.

"There is hope; all these people (in the series), when we went through our darkest times, we came out the other side and got help, and it's okay to ask for help. People don't need to feel like they have to hide it. It doesn't need to be invisible – you can talk to the people around you."

The series has only fuelled Kerr's desire to better utilise her platform for change in the mental health space. She feels young New Zealanders need simpler and more affordable access to counsellors and psychologists, which is why she has partnered with I Am Hope, a charity aimed at promoting positive attitudinal societal change around mental health in her home country. She is already talking about a second series of Treading Water, while she hopes the first can draw attention to the need for change.

"I remember in 2020 saying, 'I'm so glad I went through what I did, because I've learned so much about myself, but I hope I never feel that way again'," Kerr explains.

"And then in 2021, it came back a million times worse, and I think for so long, I've carried this fear around that it's gonna come back, or it's gonna come back each year, and there's a fear that I'll feel that way again in my life.

"But I know now that I can't control that, and I've got the tools in place (to help myself). To be where I am now is amazing, and most of all, to have turned that pain into my passion and to have created Treading Water is something I'm so proud of.

"With the experiences I've had, and with family members on both sides suffering with mental illness – it's been around me, it's been in my friend group, and it hurts – it's definitely something I want to be vocal about, and something I will support for the rest of my life."

At the end of the WBBL, Kerr will head back across the ditch for a series against Bangladesh with the White Ferns. Beyond that, she will turn out for Wellington Blaze in New Zealand's domestic T20 competition, which will allow her to be based at home through the Christmas period. It seems a fitting close to what feels like a seminal year in her young life. As she reflects, she is philosophical, and positive.

"There's a whole lot more good that has come from the experiences I've had to be where I am now," she says. "I believe everything serves a purpose, so in terms of what's happened to me – all different things – it's led me to where I am now, and to the person I am now.

"So I guess it's a real journey. I'm glad that I'm still here and have the people around me I do, and I'm open to talk to those people … and the next chapter, there's probably just excitement about it, because I feel in a really good place."

Watch Amelia Kerr's Treading Water series here

If you or someone you know needs support, visit https://www.beyondblue.org.au/