Some say that when they considered suicide, hope saved them.
But to me, Hope, in a very literal sense, felt like someone who had messed herself up.
When I considered suicide inevitable, in 2017 I boarded the train aimlessly and planned to take my own life.
And by accident I ended up in the village of Hope in Derbyshire.
It's quite a story now, and looking back might have helped, but at the time it was just another grim reminder of how little hope I had.
My experience with depression I started in 2012 when I was 37 years old.
Looking back, there were signs. Internally, I was incredibly strict and self-critical. Because of this, I felt stressed, irritated and short all the time. And in turn, I wasn't pleasant to be around – I became distant and awkward in the presence of people I cared about.
But when the depression really hit, it felt like a sudden kick in the groin. One morning in October I woke up and felt like I wasn't there. I just felt numb.
I didn't understand what was happening then. I just knew something was wrong. But not knowing what was going on made it even harder to talk to people. If I didn't know what was going on, how could I expect anyone to be able to help me?
Over the next five years, the situation worsened. I tried to pursue a second degree and work a full-time, intensive job. I also had a young family, with two children.
I bit off more than I could chew and started choking. The depression was brought on by burnout from taking on so much.
Plus, I felt a huge amount of awkwardness and shame about what I was feeling.
The situation in my relationship led to my partner asking me to leave the house in August 2017. I was angry and I completely understood.
But losing the children hurt, and things still became difficult and nerve-wracking. I saw one of them on weekends and holidays, which kept me motivated, but my relationships with everyone around me became increasingly strained.
I always thought of myself as a good dad – but not anymore. I knew my partner was making the right decision.
As the situation worsened, the idea of suicide quickly went from a distant idea to something inevitable. It only took me 24 hours to get to this point.
I didn't want to die. It just seemed like the best thing for everyone involved.
So in August 2017 I got a train from Sheffield to Bamford with the intention of dying.
During this trip, I was suddenly struck by the weight of what I was about to do. I was very afraid. But I didn't know how to stop it – taking my own life seemed like the logical end.
I sat on the train in tears and desperately needed intervention. But no one could look at me.
It was that classic British stiff upper lip, politely look away and look at the floor. I don't blame people for not checking what was wrong. Many of us simply don't know what to do when someone is having difficulty.
And a grown man crying is uncomfortable to watch. It's easier to turn the other way.
But when I finally looked up, I saw that I had missed my stop and was outside the sleepy village of… Hope.
It didn't discourage me from what I thought I had to do. I had a plan – and I hated it when I couldn't follow it. So I got off the train and spent six days walking around the Peak District, sleeping rough and having no idea what to do next.
I wasn't prepared, ready or dressed to live like that. It was terrible. I was afraid of myself and what I was trying to do.
Finally I called 999 and asked for help.
I ended up being taken to an ambulance and spent a little over 10 days in the hospital.
The emergency worker who brought me in had to stay with me to make sure I was safe – when I woke up he was still there, in the middle of the night, eating KFC.
He said it would probably get me in trouble, but he offered me the chip. It was just a chip, but I felt like it was the nicest thing anyone could do for me at that moment. He has no idea how much this still means to me.
I was finally discharged to my parents' house – it was while I was there that I realized. I knew that if I was going to recover, it would be because of the steps I took. Things I decided to do on my own and not just based on the advice of others.
I always have trouble explaining this because it's very difficult to say to others in a similar situation.
I started taking care of the basics. Sleeping, eating, hydrating, exercising – the basics I wouldn't be better off without.
And within a few years I made progress. Of course, everything was gradual, with a lot of false starts and missteps. But I did it.
I have since joined Men's Minds Matter, a suicide prevention organization.
People on social media often ask us if men really need help when society is set up in a way that generally benefits them.
However, it is important to remember that in the UK three quarters of all suicides are committed by men.
It is the biggest killer of men under 50.
Men's Minds Matter was founded by my best friend from university, Dr. Luke Sullivan. He invited me in early 2019, early in my recovery. It completely changed my life.
Now I am a permanent member of the organization and help others avoid what I did.
I still have good days and bad days (and weeks), but now I'm better equipped to deal with them. They don't scare me as much as they used to. I feel stronger and I know how to take care of myself.
This allows me to show more empathy to those around me. My relationship with my children is better than ever.
I am well on my way to becoming a fully qualified adviser. I know what people are going through – and now I can help.
Suicide remains one of our biggest taboos, even though one in five adults have thought about it. We are afraid to say it, talk about it, ask about it. We want to challenge this.
Our new campaign at Men's Minds Matter aims to change this by encouraging people to talk openly and ask a friend if they are concerned they may be feeling suicidal.
That's a terrible and uncomfortable question to ask a friend: “Are you feeling suicidal?”
However, the best way is to talk directly.
It opens up conversations that people haven't had before. This could be the question that leads people to the answers they need.
Who knows how different my story would have been if someone had asked me about it.
So please, if you think someone is thinking about ending their life, say the S-word. It may help them find their own version of hope.
Do you have a story you'd like to share? Contact jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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