On Wednesday, I made the decision to go back onto antidepressants. It was either that or quit teaching for good and become part of the grim statistics illustrating the pressures that educational professionals are currently under.

I am a senior leader at an inner-city school for pupils with social, emotional and mental health (SEMH) needs. I have worked with students with SEMH and behavioural difficulties for most of the past 30 years. I have listened to more than my fair share of stories of abuse and neglect and misery and pain. I have also seen some amazing stories of triumph. I have seen education change people’s lives. It’s been a rollercoaster.

I knew the pressures when I took this job many years ago. One of our mantras then was: “You buy the ticket, you take the ride.” We knew what we had signed up to. We made a choice to work in such a challenging environment.

‘Antidepressants are not a short-term solution’

When I started, I was told this job, in this kind of school, had a shelf life of two years. But our most vulnerable students need good teachers and staff who care. I was one of them. My colleagues and I relished being the “SAS” of teaching. I was solid. I was resilient. I was robust.

And then I wasn’t. It got to be too much. I broke.

I have been here before, about three years ago, following a serious incident at work. I told myself then that I would never come back here. But then my school entered the Ofsted window.

We are due a visit and it is a critical time. We moved the school away from deepest, darkest special measures once before; we don’t want to go anywhere near those judgements again.

I told the doctor all of this. He explained that antidepressants were not a short-term solution to cope with stressful events such as Ofsted. I told him I knew this; it went way beyond that.

When I was younger I believed that I would never do a job that made me unhappy or miserable.  Life was too short. I would change my life and career rather than rely on “happy pills”. But that was before I had kids and a mortgage and a dog to support.

A belief in education

I still believe in education. I want to do it because I believe in it, regardless of how tough it is. Increasingly, though, I am thinking that this is self-destructive madness.

I have tried and tried to have a positive outlook. I am fully aware of the importance of mental health. I see the mental health crisis in our youth on a daily basis. I have seen the incidents of self-harm in my school skyrocket.

Almost daily, I have conversations with students who want to kill themselves. I see the pain in their eyes. I know how stretched CAMHS are. We have appointed our own mental health staff to help deal with the growing problems our students face, but even this isn’t enough.

I believe in education, in my heart and soul. I see the transformation it can have on the lives of my students. The hairs on the back of my neck still stand up when my kids achieve something. This belief has kept me going through some challenging times, but at this point in time, with education as it currently is, with society as it currently is, it isn’t enough. I need medication, too.

Maybe I am just weak. Maybe I should leave the profession. Maybe my time is done.

The writer is a senior leader at a school that offers alternative provision for pupils with SEMH needs