I did an impromptu video for you, from the heart. I think there's hope & happiness in there, and maybe some good advice. It's quite sweary though.

This (Friday) morning I got up early and decided to revisit a place I realised I'd avoided for years. It was too raw.

A pretty little mound on the Somerset Levels where, torn apart by thoughts of ending my life & depression, I realised it was going to be ok.

That I wanted to stay. That I could imagine being well again.

This is the Adam Buxton Podcast, with Rob Delaney, that sparked that realisation, as I rode across The Levels, crying my black little eyes out.

Eight years on, I can be thankful for so much. I thought my life was a dead end. It wasn't. It took asking for help to get me to where I am now.

Without moments of kindness, terror & flashes of love, I wouldn't be here now.

No FRAHM. No charity donations. No men who also sought help. No gorgeous jackets (not that jackets matter, in the context of loss, death and stuff) to be proud of.

No seeing the trees blossom, rubbing my dog's ears, or reading my daughter stories. All gone.

I'm so f****** glad I opened my mouth, said the unsayable, realised it wasn't at all, and began my road to a far better life, discarding the crap that had got me into that position.

Campaign Against Living Miserably, our charity partner are there to help. Or, see your GP like I did (I actually stumbled in weeping, begging to be seen - desperation). 

Talk to anyone. Shout it. Pass a little note under a table. Just voice your pain.

That's it. I could have waited 2 more weeks until World Suicide Prevention Day, but suicides happen every day. That is the pain that really lingers. The folks who didn't recover. Who felt my pain, and worse.

I say my story, in case that helps. If we all say our stories, we all help.

That's where Tough Beautiful comes from. Real life. The life I'm still here to live. I'm glad.

Take care, get yourself fixed.

Nick