Judgment Is Easy. Understanding Isn’t

“Mum… was your last blog inspired by the Lindsay Clancy case?”

“Who is that again? The woman who killed her kids? She’s just evil!”

“Mum, what she did was bad, but I think you should read about her case before you call her names. She was very sick. She sought help but was sent home with a bunch of medications she said were causing side effects. You are the pharmacist.”

“Okay, baby, I will. Have a nice day.”

“Love you Mum.”

“Love you too baby.”

That was a slightly modified version of a conversation I had with one of my daughters as I dropped her off at school — just days before the trial was declared a mistrial. I am no lawyer and would never pretend to be one, but that child of mine got me thinking. Her words stopped me in my tracks. All I knew about the case was that a woman had killed her children. And like many, I judged her instantly. I condemned her. I waited for the “happy ending” — the offender rightfully sentenced, justice served, case closed.

As a mother, the thought of harming my children is unfathomable. Even imagining them slightly hurt makes my heart seize. So how could any mother do the unthinkable?

This case gripped the whole nation — and parts of the world — but for me, it was my daughter’s plea that stirred something deeper in me. A child who knows and understands what maternal love feels like was asking me to look into the case of a woman she knew had deprived her own children of that same love. That contradiction alone forced me to pause.

Mental health is complicated. Unless you or someone close to you has walked through its shadows, it is easy to dismiss, judge, or misunderstand. You need to have empathy, to appreciate where the other person is coming from. In many cultures — mine included — mental health is shunned, minimized, or treated as weakness. Postpartum depression, especially, remains one of the most troubling and unaddressed conditions. Society expects motherhood to make one the happiest. And yes, babies bring joy — but they also bring exhaustion, hormonal storms, pressure, and expectations that can send even the strongest woman spiralling down a rabbit hole.

In retrospect, I think I experienced a touch of postpartum depression myself. But when I tried to speak up, I was shut down and told I was ungrateful. I was reminded that others were praying for what I had, how dare I complain, right?

My daughter told me that Lindsay had supposedly begged to be committed — begged — but was instead sent home with a cocktail of antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and more. I do not trust everything online, but if the medication list circulating is even half true, the question becomes unavoidable: Why was she ever left alone with her children?

Confusion. Poor judgment. Hallucinations. Suicidal thoughts. Impulse control issues. These are not minor side effects. These are red flags. I will not go into all these side effects, but the medications point to what was assumed to be her diagnosis. Someone knew her condition. She sought help. She was sent home anyway. And her innocent children paid the ultimate price – with their lives, because she was not removed from the environment despite all the warning signs.

How many of us experience even mild depression, anxiety, or emotional strain but stay silent because we fear being labelled weak? When does admitting vulnerability become acceptable in the eyes of a society that condemns us for simply being human?

Mental health will always be a grey area because no one truly sees what the sufferer is experiencing. We often only look back after tragedy strikes — the devastating outcome of their troubled state of mind is what causes us to review medical histories, missed signs, and what could have been done. By then, it’s too late for some innocent person.

I do not condone violence of any kind. But I also cannot ignore the unheard — those too ashamed to seek help, those who sought help but didn’t receive it, those drowning quietly in their own minds while the world demands strength.

Here’s to a society that finally understands mental health is real, complex, and deeply personal.

Here’s to compassion.

Here’s to listening.

Here’s to acknowledging that it’s okay not to be okay — and it’s more than okay to get help.