‘We accept any body parts breaking down, except our brains’

shocking that we live in a world where if you have the courage to talk about your mental health then you’re deemed an attention seeker.

But I feel obliged to say something. I have suffered with poor mental health as far back as I can remember, which got progressively worse as I hit puberty.

As a teenager I’d hallucinate, hear voices and frequently self-harm. It would be a common occurrence for me to go to school with my arms wrapped in bandages, feigning a sprained wrist or something equally unbelievable when, in fact, I had cut my arms to shreds with a razor blade the night before and wanted to hide the wounds.

But I never told anyone how I was feeling. I completely bottled it up for fear of being made fun of, being deemed an attention seeker or being told “Oh, you’re only a teenager, you don’t know what depression is.” And I continued to bottle it up throughout my teenage years and into my adult life. But bottling things up gets you nowhere. I lost numerous friendships and relationships, and got to the point where I just couldn’t find the strength to carry on.

Just last year I would regularly pick up a kitchen knife or razor blade and cut myself, then pull on my work uniform and go work a night shift wearing a jumper or hoody so the sleeves were long enough to cover the incisions. I’d be asked by everyone why on earth I was wearing long sleeves when it was warm inside the factory. I’d pretend I was cold when in truth I just needed to hide all the wounds on my arms that were still bleeding and soaking into the material as I painfully tried to work and pretend nothing was wrong.

I have a beautiful son who is my primary reason for standing here today but it got to a point where even he wasn’t enough for me to find the strength to carry on, and I started to plan my own suicide.

I’d spend hours researching lethal doses of pills, then buy them and keep them in my bedside cabinet just praying for the courage to take them and for it to all be over with. I took out life insurance, made a will and put plans in place ready for when I’d be gone.

It’s hard to explain what goes through your head when you’re overcome by sadness and depression. I think it’s different for everyone and trying to put it into words and speak to someone about it is really difficult. When I’m at my lowest it’s like I’m not really here any more. I’m on auto pilot and feel like my body is present but my mind is not.

I’ll hide away, spend as much time in bed and asleep as possible, but if I do have to venture out to do the school run or anything else then I’ll put my head down and blank out everything and everyone. I know a lot of people don’t understand self-harm or why people do it if their intention isn’t suicide. For me, every time I cut myself it was a release. The pain I felt from causing harm to my body would temporarily distract from the pain inside my mind and, strangely, it would help. I don’t think I fully underIT’S