My name is Howard and I'm 32 years old, I have been a user or survivor of the mental health system for over six years. I first became ill or at least ill enough to require hospitalization around 1995. I have suffered from depression for most of my life off and on, I was not always depressed but I did find that it would rear its ugly head from time to time during my life so far.

Around 1995 I was living in London on a diet of cooked breakfasts, Guinness and Maruajna. I managed to break my foot at work and had to stay away from work for a while. During this time my depression got extremely bad as I had no money for food rent and more importantly (I thought so at the time anyway) Guinness and Maruajna. The depression kicked in with a vengeance and I felt as low as I have ever felt I guess. I was skint and very isolated even though I was living in a huge city amongst millions of people I felt totally alone. I got to that jumping off point that I've been at since where everything is pointless, there is no hope for the future and I just wanted to die. I decided to take an overdose (with hindsight not a good idea) I was very naive, I just assumed that you took lots and lots of pills and then you went to sleep and you never woke up again. I was in for a big shock because that is not what happened. I visited several chemists buying as much Paracetamol as I could with out arousing suspicion and took my new hoard of pills home. I got some mineral water and started taking the pills, one at a time, it took a while as they tasted awful and I did not want to be sick. I managed about eighty five Paracetamol and reached the point where I knew if I took any more I would retch. Anyway to cut a long story short I started puking and I just could not stop, I'd literally poisoned myself and my body was reacting saying get this stuff out of me and I just puked and puked. I brought up everything I'd ever eaten and stuff I'm sure I never ate too. By this time I'd been taken to hospital and was being treated in Casualty. My head was spinning and I was still being sick I was and had been for the past few hours dry heaving as there was nothing left in my stomach and I was still vomiting every minute or two. The nurse on duty told me I could die, and I thought fine as long as you stop me being sick. They eventually gave me something to stop the vomiting, took me to a ward where I fell asleep. When I had initially started being sick I had phoned the Samaritans as I felt that this overdose was not going to plan as I had not gently drifted off to sleep as I naïvely assumed I would. It was the Samaritans who took me to the hospital and stayed with me for that evening. They were a big help in a particularly bad time for me. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you feel desperate and actively suicidal give them a call and you can talk things over with them. If you ever do feel like taking an overdose I would urge you not to do it because it is not a pleasant thing to go through and you could do some permanent damage or worse kill yourself. I think that there is always light at the end of the tunnel, but I can't always see it, that is when I am depressed.

Anyway after that little episode I was introduced to the Mental health system. Some folk have resentments against the system and have an axe to grind regarding their treatment. I don't, my shrinks have done things that I venomously disagreed with at the time (like sectioning me several times) but with hind sight I have to say that they did the right thing and saved me from myself. I have never been any danger to anybody else but I have been a danger to myself. I was in the system and after a stay in the Priory Hospital Roehampton I was discharged and given a B&B to stay in then rehoused in a temporary flat within three weeks!. I know it is hard to believe but I had a flat of my own within three weeks, the system does not usually work this fast (if at all) but fate was kind to me that day and they found me a flat, where I stayed for several years before being permanently rehoused. During those years I had several more attempts at suicide and had developed psychotic symptoms and was then diagnosed with Schizotypal disorder.

Now you would think that things could not get any worse, but they did. I started getting Panic attacks, panic attacks are the worse thing that I have ever gone through. They ruined my life for a number of years. It got to the point where I was too nervous to go outside, too scared to get on a bus and absolutely terrified of tube trains. I was petrified of just about everything especially contact with people I did not know, I thought that they were going to attack me. If I did go out I went via the side streets to avoid any congregation of people, and I have lost count of the times where I have had to drop my shopping and run for it in a super market because the panic had got so bad that I felt I had to just get out and get out fast. It was unbearable and I just could not handle it at all, my life had become totally unmanageable.

After my introduction to the mental health system I had continued my use of Alcohol and dope. I considered myself a binge drinker, once I had a few pints in me I just could not stop. Many times I had met a friend in the high street at lunch time while I was doing my shopping and said I would stand them a pint before going home to cook my lunch, and I'd still be propping up the bar come eleven o'clock kicking out time. I did not drink every day (could not afford it) and I never drank in the morning either but drink was not helping me at all. I also still loved getting high only half the time I was getting paranoid thinking people were reading my mind and that I was articulating all the thoughts that came into my head. Dope was not working either in fact it was making my illness far worse. Around this time I got a letter from a friend of my brother who I had never met and she had had mental health problems, the letter said basically if you stop drinking you will feel better and the panic attacks will get better too. At this point I was very very desperate and if I'd got a letter from the easter bunny telling me to drink my own urine I wound have done it if I though that it would alleviate the panic attacks. Anyway I stopped drinking and smoking dope, that was almost four years ago, and I have not been back in hospital since.

I'm not saying that my life is a bed or roses now, sh** still happens as it does. But now I am much better off to deal with it, my life is now manageable and I have peace of mind today. Towards the end of my drinking and use of dope my life was totally unmanageable and I had forgotten what peace of mind was, I was a mess. I have learned through painful experience what I can do to help myself with my illness and what I can do to not help myself with my illness. Things I find that help are socializing and being creative (even if it is just calling a friend or writing and email) also I go out every day and do something, even if it is just a small thing like going to the shop on the corner. I find that I can't stand being alone with my own head so If I'm at home alone I listen to music or play a little guitar, watch TV or do something on the computer to distract myself from me and my problems and then its okay. Things I can do to screw myself up are drink alcohol and take drugs, so I chose not to do those things anymore. I've managed to stay away from drink and drugs for almost four years, a day at a time and I still go to AA meetings. I very very rarely get a panic attack these days I only had a few in the whole of last year so something I'm doing is right. I take my medication because I find if I stop taking it I get ill quickly and I prefer the side effects of medication to being ill. Today I feel okay and that's good enough for me.