Talking about my mental health saved my life – let's keep the conversations going

The hustle and bustle of life can make us forget to slow down and ask people if they’re okay. Time to Talk Day is an important reminder to do just that

I was ten years old when my uncle drank a bottle of bleach. He survived, but my family never talked about it. My cousin, who ended his life when he was only 25, was not so lucky.

I grew up in Trinidad and Tobago, where the stigma around having mental health problems was great. People with mental health diagnoses were called "mad", and lived life on the periphery, struggling to find work and solid relationships. In my family there was an unacknowledged agreement that we didn’t talk about that sort of thing.

In my subconscious, what happened with my uncle and our failure to even acknowledge that all wasn’t well set a precedent, and reinforced a notion that was already deeply ingrained. Mental health was not to be talked about. It should come as no surprise then that we didn’t discuss my diagnosis of depression and anxiety at the age of 16, after suffering a nervous breakdown. As I spiraled and antidepressants failed to help, my doctor told me if I didn’t get better he would have to refer me to Trinidad’s only mental health facility, infamously known as "the Mad House". Horrified, I never told my family. I lied to my doctor and myself and said that I was on the mend.

Years later, I found that everything I had buried as a young person exploded and I started having a delayed onset of symptoms.

Aged 28, and after two serious suicide attempts and ongoing suicidal ideation, it never occurred to me that I should talk about my mental health. Instead, I ran away to the other side of the world – where I found, of course, that my mental distress didn’t stay where I thought I had left them. Still, I didn’t open up: I was ashamed, and afraid, and it seemed pointless. Nobody would get it, I thought.

My mental health went on a steady decline. For the first time, in my late twenties, I was having sleep terrors – screaming in horror while asleep, unable to name my fears when awake. The nightmares were equally bad and I went for days forcing myself to stay awake. I started sleepwalking, and had daily anxiety attacks so bad I thought I’d die. I wanted to die. Self-harm and bulimia followed.

That feels like such a long time ago. And it is refreshing when I see people from all walks of life speaking candidly about their mental health now.

When Tom Brady asked Meghan Markle Duchess of Sussex if she was ok – and what’s more, when she told him she wasn’t – I felt the tide beginning to change.It was a raw and honest exchange. A gut-wrenching reminder of how neat facades can mask internal distress, and why we shouldn’t assume people are okay just because they seem so. It was a good example of how talking about mental health doesn’t have to be complicated or intimidating or awkward.

Coming to London, and being part of a society that’s been opening avenues for more conversation on mental health has played a crucial role in me opening up. After almost dying in 2013, I joined a now-defunct online forum and met people of all ages and statuses with mental health problems. They were telling their own stories but they were talking about me too. It was incredible.

Friends and doctors encouraged me, and begrudgingly I started attending psychotherapy, where I met other people who were also struggling. The more I talked about it, the more I felt a weight lift. Talking about it unearthed the real me that had been buried beneath years of trauma and pain. And one day, just like that, I realised I wanted to live.

The only reason I am here now, in other words, is because over the years, people – professionals, co-workers, friends, family, neighbours and complete strangers – have bothered to ask if I’m ok.

The hustle and bustle of life can make us forget to slow down and ask people if they’re okay – and the stigma that’s still surrounds mental health can make it hard to answer honestly, too. Yet today, Time to Talk Day, is an important reminder to keep the conversation going.

I used to be afraid to ask people the question Tom Brady did of Meghan Markle, in case I couldn’t handle their response. What if I didn’t know how to help? But having been on the other side of that conversation, I know that most people aren’t looking for an answer – they’re looking for empathy. Just a simple, honest exchange with another person can remind us that we’re not alone, however dark it may seem.