When things go wrong in life I’ve always had the attitude of pick yourself up, dust yourself off and carry on.  However, during the summer between second and third year I somehow lost this mentality and hit my lowest point.

Summers in Ormskirk are always strange because most students have returned home. So for those of us left behind it’s easy to go unnoticed for a while. Just before the summer I had started on some new meds; I was working long days, trying to write essays and feeling a tad homesick.

From June to mid-August I was acting like a manic depressive. I was really happy but I felt so sad and I couldn’t work out why. On the evenings when things got too much I would cut my wrists – it was easier to understand the pain I was feeling if I could see it. I felt a sense of temporary relief, I had an excuse for crying and feeling how I did. However, this would make me feel worse, I’d feel guilty and ashamed for hurting myself and I became better at hiding it from those around me.

I was acting like nothing was wrong when inside I was falling apart. I finally admitted to one of my close friends what was happening whilst watching films one evening. I felt embarrassed telling them. I thought they’d be angry at me or walk away, but they did the complete opposite. They booked me in to counselling and took me to the next four sessions – mainly to make sure I went but also to hold my hand and be a shoulder to cry on. That summer there were many tears.

The counselling helped but I still had this huge cloud permanently hanging over my head. Then the night in September came. I had just returned back to uni from a weekend away at home – this had caused all sorts of anxiety and a lot of worry. After a six hour train journey I was feeling so low. Around 11pm I found myself in my room spinning around on the spot thinking the walls were closing in on me. I phoned my best friend and just walked – I only had my bank card and phone on me, I wanted to run away but I had no idea where I was going. I was gone for about an hour and a half. My housemates were out of their minds with worry and found me walking down the middle of St. Helens Road. I remember walking down the road with lorries coming at me, not worried about the consequences of being hit by one. My housemates wouldn’t let me out of their sight for the next week or so.

About a week later I was on the phone to my Mum and I had a flashback to that evening – it was only then that I realised I had tried to kill myself. I was shocked that I hadn’t been aware and essentially forgotten about something so huge. I phoned my GP straight away who referred me to a Psychiatrist. Attending that appointment was frightening and the same friend who took me to counselling accompanied me there. They were able to talk about the episodes my brain had blanked out. It was only at this point (5 months after being started on meds) that the medication I had been prescribed was identified as the cause. I had been acting like a manic depressive without actually having it. It’s safe to say I came straight off these meds and within about 2 weeks the cloud had lifted and I was back to being me.

My friends noticed an immediate difference, I was bubbly and smiley again. For me I wasn’t scared about feeling low for no reason. Now I surround myself with people I care about, and who care about me. I am honest and open about how I’m feeling and will always speak to someone if I’m feeling a little low. That summer taught me that you have to ask for help if you have any inkling something might be wrong. Please don’t ever think you are alone, weird or useless for feeling like I did. You are not. There are so many people there who want to support you, you just have to let them know.