I started hearing voices, voices that were firmly and aggressively telling me to end my life, they were loud and they were clear. They told me how to do it and that I would. I lay in my bed clutching at the quilt staring at one spot on my wall. As long as I had hold of my quilt I was alive, and I was still feeling.

I didn’t want to commit suicide, I never did, and I would shout back at the voices, but I got confused and very tired of shouting back after a day or two, confused about which one was my voice and which one was depression. It was in the early hours in the morning on a Tuesday I believe, it was the early hours when I almost listened fully.

I was glued to my bed, sat cross legged, bolt upright, there was no way I was going to give in. I picked up my phone and dialled 116 123. I was unconvinced at my ability to make it through the night and needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a family member or friend. I waited on the line for around 90 seconds before a soft, female voice answered the phone.

I was choked up. I explained to her that I wasn’t totally sure why I was calling, and that I wasn’t really sure what to do on the phone.

The soft female voice at the end of the line reassured me that I didn’t need to do anything. There was no pressure to say anything. I didn’t have to tell them everything that was going on, but that it might be a nice release. Of course, the specifics of our conversation will need to stay between me and them – that’s the point. But I found myself saying, I don’t know what, but saying. My heart rate came down and the suicidal cloud did start to disperse. The call lasted 13 minutes and we ended the call comfortable that I was able to keep myself safe overnight. The anonymous soft female voice had, to all sense and purposes, saved my life.

Talking about suicidal thoughts and feelings can be incredibly difficult. (Have a read of my blog post “talking is tough”). It’s not easy to open up to others about the difficult things that we’re experiencing. It’s important that we don’t just tell people about our suicidal thoughts once and then stop talking. We need to try and keep talking to those around us, to keep speaking to them about what’s going on for us, and to keep letting them help us. Talking, to anyone, getting words out, can help you to get through these difficult times and to get to a better place where your thoughts will be less overwhelming.

At times I felt like I should ‘just get on with stuff’ or ‘sort myself out’. I didn’t want to burden others, I didn’t want to upset anyone close to me and place any amount of stigma on myself. I said things to myself that I would never dream of saying to others. If a friend was struggling, I would be desperate to want to help them. My loved ones wanted to help me too. And by god, did they. They know who they are.

It’s taken a little while for me to stop having suicidal thoughts, and I was convinced that they would never, fully go. I knew I could, keep myself safe, but they were still there, lingering like a bad smell. I fought every day, every god damn day to think of anything else, I focused on TV programmes and cheese toasties and dungarees. I focused on my mums daily cuddle, that always melted away something, I don’t know what. And eventually, eventually the voices did go, I started thinking about what I wanted to eat in place of my funeral arrangements and started feeling the fresh air rather than the suffocating grasp of depression. I look back and feel so sorry for Ellen who was clinging onto the edge by her absolute fingertips, the Ellen who was so lonely it was actually physically painful, the Ellen who just couldn’t see a way out and didn’t think life could possibly carry on like this. But I am also proud of her, for not feeling any shame for reaching out for help. I feel lucky that I was able to reach out just in time, I felt embarrassed but never ashamed. It’s a critical illness, and it does kill. Suicide is a symptom of depression, it’s just the final one. Please remember that. For many of you, talking out, seeking help and fighting back might just be the strongest thing you ever do.

I was toying with whether to post this piece, it’s rather raw, and very personal, and possibly… a bit much. But its World Mental Health Day today and I have decided that surely it’s time for people to be too much, we have to be, it’s the way we are going to save each other and a way we can all learn, learn to help as well as heal. I know the S word is scary, but we mustn’t call it the S word anymore, we mustn’t be afraid of it, the more we talk about suicide, I honestly believe, and hope, that the less it will consume people to follow through. Ask direct questions if you are worried about someone, don’t be afraid, or worry you will “make them worse” please. Ask them what’s going on if they can answer, keep talking, keep opening up that line of communication. Be worried, but be patient, be firm, be kind, be you. And god damn it, take care of yourself too.

And if you’re in it right now, I am so bloody sorry, I beg you to believe me when I say you will get through this, keep shouting back, keep fighting your way through every single day and know that I’m here and I understand exactly how you feel if you ever need someone to listen. There is always someone who wants to listen. You are not a burden. That hideous, nasty and suffocating feeling will subside, and there are things that are going to make you feel better, I promise, but you’re gonna have to stick around in order to feel them, ok?

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx