Trigger warnings: references of suicide; incredibly long sentences and even longer-winded points (sorry, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to lighten the tone of an otherwise incredibly serious and un-funny topic).

I have an entire album of pictures on my phone that I struggle to look at without feeling desperately sad, which is heartbreaking in many ways, but none more so than the fact that many of them are from my wedding day. This has nothing to do with the day itself, which was completely perfect, despite it not being the day we had originally planned… remember those crazy Covid times? Yeah, I’m also trying to forget them… It also has nothing to do with the man I married – who I should add I’m still very happily married to now. But because where others probably see a not-entirely-unattractive bride in a beautiful white wedding dress, in a boujee hotel surrounded by a loving family and stunning floral displays, I see someone in the depths of a mental health crisis which started in the August of 2020, and that I only really emerged from in July of 2023,  nearly three years later. Three years, thirty-six months, and one thousand and ninety five-ish days of what I now recognise as a deep depression, the deepest one yet – and trust me, there’s been many. To be very clear that’s not to say there weren’t some ‘good’ days in amongst that time, because there definitely was: I had some incredibly happy moments, and paradoxically, some of my “biggest achievements” to date. But behind all of them was a dark, heavy, desperate feeling of sadness, loss, doom and despair, that wore down my spirit, ultimately making me lose sight of who I was, and on my very darkest days, my reasons for staying alive. I came across the artwork I’ve attached with this post, ironically, in the middle of mental health awareness week, and it hit me so hard in the back of my throat and then deep in my soul, that it inspired me to write this at 1AM whilst unable to sleep due to pain from a rather brutal kidney infection. 

I’ve written and posted before about my mental health, and specifically my experience of receiving a late diagnosis of ADHD, and despite knowing in my heart of hearts that writing (in some capacity anyway) is probably what I should actually be doing with my life (not because I think I’m very good at it, but because it’s truly one of the most effortless, therapeutic and natural things in the world to me), I still struggle to put anything out into the public domain because of my inability to communicate anything other than deeply personal,  brutally honest, and painfully revealing thoughts and reflections, which despite having gone through the trauma of the experiences already,  often feel too raw to re-live and read back in black and white. However something I learned in therapy – one of the many, many, incredible learnings I took from that entirely privileged but opposite-of-effortless experience – was that if you don’t ever sit with or process the raw and painful memories, experiences, thoughts and feelings, you’ll never truly move past or make peace with them. If you know me well you’ll know that my strongest core value is to be in service of others, and if you don’t know me, well, you might just think I’m a self-aggrandising, holier-than-thou martyr type with a misplaced sense of duty. The truth is, despite referencing a three year-long mental health episode, I’ve always struggled with it; and the other truth is that there is probably a somewhat selfish element to my desire to be in service of others somewhere, related to wanting to feel helpful or useful. Or valid and worthy of a place here in this world. On some level I suppose it does make me feel good about myself, but more than anything it does that because I’m certain it’s the sole reason that I was put here (and if it’s not, then I genuinely cannot think of a single other reason why, because it sure as heck wasn’t to reproduce…!) and so regardless of how you choose to interpret me and my motivations, I assure you that I’m writing this in the hope that it might give someone else just that – hope. 

Saturday the 18th March 2023 was simultaneously the day I decided I wanted to end my life and the day I decided I wanted to remain in existence. I don’t want to get into the nitty gritty of what actually led me to the former decision, here – I know you don’t have all day and I’m not exactly the least verbose – but what I will say is that I came to it in the car park of Sainsbury’s, less than two miles from my home: a seemingly innocuous location for such a highly pernicious act. I’ve experienced suicidal ideation since I was around thirteen years old, as a result of anxiety, intrusive thoughts, OCD… undiagnosed ADHD – who knows, I’m done trying to pinpoint everything to one or multiple conditions or struggles at this stage – however never have I ever arrived at the place where I’m frantically googling the number of the Samaritans, whilst tears spill down my already-soaking wet face and my heart heaves out of my chest, having just repeatedly visualised my own untimely death in a loop in my mind, all the while people around me are innocently loading groceries into their car-boots, wrestling babies into their car-seats, and negotiating pre-dinner McDonalds with screaming toddlers and moody tweens. I never did dial the number, because something about seeing the search results flash up in front of me as my life flashed before my eyes, scared the living shit out of me, at the fact I was seriously considering ending my own life, because of the irreparable damage it would do to my husband, my family, my friends, and potentially the unfortunate soul who would find me. So I decided not to do it – for them. See, I told you my core value is being in service of others: turns out it quite literally saved my life – take that naysayers 🤺 Once I’d finally stopped shaking and crying, through the slow and steady box breathing technique my friend and breathwork coach, Andy, had taught me during a Covid lockdown, I pressed the ignition and calmly – more calm than I’d felt in months, nay, YEARS – drove back home to my loving husband, and our beautiful home, having decided I was going to live. That on some level, I wanted to exist. 

Initially, as I’ve said, this decision to live was mostly for everyone else. In the first few minutes and hours following my Sainsbury’s Car Park Experience (SCPE as we’ll lovingly refer to it for the remainder of this ramble, I don’t want to have to write ‘my almost suicide’ over and over, and I’d appreciate if you could humour me whilst I humour myself), I truly did feel like I had decided to exist for others. But in the days and weeks that followed, this gradually evolved to become a decision, no, a determination to exist for myself, hoping and trusting that in time, it would somehow be for others too. To show that you can take back control of your mind, your life and your happiness when it feels like you’ve lost them forever; to show that there IS a way to use it as the rocket fuel for your recovery; to show that poor mental health doesn’t always look like poor mental health. To show that sometimes what feels like the very end, can in fact be just the very beginning. What followed in the months after SCPE, was a very intense, very intentional hEaLiNG joUrNEy which led me to learn and to glean the following five lessons and insights which are the main reason for this spontaneous brain spew, and which I wanted to – semi-concisely (HA HA good one) – summarise and share with you here: 

1. The relationship you have with yourself is by far the most important relationship you will ever have in your entire lifetime. If you’re in an abusive relationship with anyone, the likelihood of ever feeling truly safe, happy, nurtured or like you are thriving, is zero. Same goes for an abusive relationship with yourself. Getting to the root cause of where you broke that trust with yourself, why you feel so badly about yourself, and what led you to mistreat yourself the way you have been, is the only way you will ever be able to remove yourself from that toxic situation, and to be very clear, I mean the toxic situation you are in with yourself. Things that helped me with this: therapy, exercise, writing, walking, following through on commitments to myself, gratitude, affirmations, learning, un-learning, grieving, long talks with people I love and trust. Patience.
2. The second insight, very much linked to my first lesson, is the importance of being conscious of the way you speak to yourself. My internal dialogue was horrendous. I could cry just thinking of all the brutal, disgusting and hurtful things I’ve said to myself throughout my life. You have no idea how much it affects absolutely everything  – not least your day-to-day happiness but especially your relationship with yourself. A huge part of building a positive and healthy relationship with yourself is learning to speak to yourself kindly. Things that helped me with this: therapy, affirmations, writing letters to myself – both past, present and future; intentionality, grieving, learning, un-learning. Practice. 
3. Being intentional about your life and everything in it. If you want to be sustainably mentally well, to live a good life and be comfortable and at peace in your mind, body and spirit, you absolutely have to be intentional about it all. You have to spend time thinking about what it is that you want out of life, how you want to show up every day, and what your overarching goals are for your time on this tiny little planet, and then make a point of thinking and behaving in a way each and every day which is in service of those. Without being intentional, you’re quite frankly p*ssing in the wind, and whilst others may have a different view, in my experience – and that of most other people committed to rewriting their narrative after a lifetime of depression and anxiety – you can’t ever truly fulfil the potential of your life’s happiness or contentedness without being intentional about healing, your habits and how you live your life day-to-day. Be intentional about who you surround yourself with, the thoughts you allow to take up space in your mind, the thoughts you have about yourself, the decisions you make and don’t make… All of it. Things that have helped me with this: writing, having short and long-term goals, routine, visualisation, writing letters to my future self, affirmations, therapy. Music. Which is my daily therapy… 
4. No one is coming to save you. This one links directly to each and every one of the previous three. This was a tough one for me, particularly as it transpired I was very guilty of feeling like a complete victim more often than not up until – and maybe even during – SCPE. A victim of a number of things really, but in the end I learnt the hard truth that the main person I was a victim of was myself. A lot of life – and I am highly aware I’m speaking from a place of significant privilege here, this does not apply to many marginalised groups or sections of society – and what happens to us is as the result of choices, not always initially, but in most cases, at some point along the way we have the ability to somewhat alter our fate, or at least the way we think about or have to experience our fate. I cannot tell you how much I wish I’d known this earlier. It would have enabled me to take agency over my life, mental health and overall wellbeing a hell of a lot sooner than I eventually did, and move from the victim mentality to the orchestrator of my own outcomes; the creator of my own joy. The only person I could and truly should rely on to take care of me, was and is me. To say this has been both a humbling and empowering lesson is the understatement of the century. I wouldn’t be where I am now had I not woken up to this realisation when I did. Thinking of it now, maybe on some level I realised it in SCPE. Things that helped me with this: brutal honesty with myself. Therapy.
5. Healing and recovery are not linear, and it’s all a constant work in progress. I’m lucky in the fact I’m a deeply curious individual with an unquenchable thirst for learning and self-development which makes it a hundred times easier to commit to continuous growth and doing the work to be and remain mentally well, and dare I say, happy in yourself. Not only do you have to get comfortable with this realisation but you also need to be prepared for the fact that even when you’ve built incredible resilience, and have learnt all the main tenets of positive mental health and a “happy life”, and have all the tools in your toolbox and have done what you think is the majority of your healing, there will still be days and maybe even weeks, when things feel difficult and you worry that you’re slipping back into old mindsets and patterns of behaviour. Side note: I saw this post on social media last year that spoke to me so deeply I think I must have re-read it over a hundred times, that said: “No one talks about how once you’ve experienced depression it can be absolutely terrifying to feel sad; having no idea if this is just a bad day or another dive into darkness”. Some of the most empowering, comforting and fulfilling experiences I’ve had in the last ten months have been when I’ve woken up the day after a day, or a handful of days, of difficult feelings or mental struggle, and realising the feelings have passed and the neuro plasticity is really neuro plasticity-ing (I know – I know, I can’t believe I really wrote that either), because I’m back in control of my mind and my mood, feeling hopeful again, and trusting I’m going to be just fine. I’m not remotely ashamed to say I’ve cried actual tears of joy in those moments; in fact I have cried tears of joy – at myself and thinking how far I’ve come – many, many, MANY, times since SCPE, before quickly descending into hysterical fits of laughter at myself, thinking if anyone could see me they’d think I was completely bonkers (spoiler alert – I most definitely bloody am). I believe they call those moment ‘glimmers’, which are, apparently, the opposite of triggers. Those have been some of the most reassuring, enriching, healing, soul-nourishing and proudest moments of my life, and I cherish them so dearly each and every time they happen. You never take those moments for granted when you’ve met yourself in the darkest place the human mind can possibly go. Things that have helped me with this: therapy, healthy relationships, self-love, acceptance, self-care, self-respect, boundaries, acceptance, routines, learning, slowing down, acceptance. Acceptance. Acceptance. Acceptance. They say nothing worth having comes easy; good mental health after a lifetime of terrible mental health, is one of them. Accepting that it’s going to be a life-long work-in-progress, with no real end point or destination, is key.

There’s so much more I could and want to say but the fact is I’ve awakened something within myself this past year that’s made me realise that everything I went through over the last few years was bringing me closer and closer to the point where I’m finally going to do something with it all. Whether that’s write a book, start a podcast, set up a community, or something else that will enable me to channel my difficult experiences and all the associated learnings into something that will help others. So I’m going to save the rest for when I finally start one or all of these. 

Whilst I still have the odd bad or overwhelming day, I’ve honestly never felt like more of a bad ass in my whole entire life. In no way do I think I’m perfect, or perfectly healed, but the inner strength and confidence I have developed as a result of all of my toughest experiences, have brought me a level of peace, joy, ambition, determination and capability I never thought possible. If you are reading this and can relate to any or all of it, just know you are an absolute bad ass too for still being here and still showing up, even on the days you don’t know how you will make it through. I mean this is when I say, my messages and ears are always open for anyone who needs a safe space to talk, or a safe pair of arms to wrap around them. Now I’ve been able to wrap those arms so firmly and compassionately around myself, I think I’m finally ready to share them with the rest of the world. 

Kimberley Inglis-Steel

Contact: kimberleyfsteel@me.com