06/09/2026
One of our followers Lisa Carol has asked us to kindly share we are so proud of you Lisa thank you for speaking out.🙏❤️
Lisa story
I’ve written this and deleted it so many times.
Because I still don’t really know how you tell people that in September last year, I tried to end my life.
I’ve never shared that publicly.
And even typing it now makes my stomach turn because that was me. I got to a point where I genuinely believed not being here anymore was the only way to make everything stop.
I didn’t want attention.
I didn’t want somebody to save me.
I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow.
I was exhausted.
Exhausted from trauma.
Exhausted from pretending I was coping.
Exhausted from waking up every day and trying to carry things that had become too fu***ng heavy.
I had nothing left in me.
And the scary thing is, people wouldn’t necessarily have known.
I could still talk.
I could still laugh.
I could still answer messages.
I could still say “I’m fine”.
But I wasn’t fine.
I was drowning and trying my hardest to make sure nobody could see it.
When I look at the picture of me from last year, it hurts.
Because I know what she was carrying.
I know how tired she was.
And I know that she genuinely believed there was nothing left for her.
She couldn’t see this version of me.
She couldn’t see another September.
She couldn’t see herself laughing again.
Going on holiday.
Making plans.
Doing things she was proud of.
Finding pieces of herself again.
Loving and being loved.
Building something meaningful from so much pain.
She couldn’t see any of it.
And that’s the part that gets me.
Because I nearly missed all of it.
There are memories I have now that I nearly never made.
People I love now that I nearly never got more time with.
Conversations I nearly never had.
Places I nearly never went.
Days I nearly never woke up to.
A whole life that I couldn’t see because, in that moment, the pain was louder than everything else.
I’m not sharing this because I’m magically healed.
I’m not.
There are still days when things feel heavy. There are still parts of what happened to me that I’m trying to understand and live with.
But I’m here.
And I am so fu***ng grateful that I stayed long enough to find out that the way I felt in that moment wasn’t the way I was going to feel forever.
So during Su***de Prevention Month, if there is one thing I want somebody to take from me sharing something this personal, it is this:
Please stay.
Please stay through tonight.
Please stay through the hour that feels impossible.
Please stay even if right now you can’t give me one reason why.
Because I couldn’t see my reasons either.
You don’t have to know how you’re going to fix everything.
You don’t have to suddenly feel positive.
You don’t have to have your whole life figured out.
Just stay.
Tell somebody you’re not okay.
Let somebody sit in the darkness with you until it doesn’t feel quite so dark.
Because there are versions of your life you haven’t met yet.
There are ordinary Tuesday mornings, belly laughs, hugs, stupid jokes, new people, old people, places, opportunities and moments that you don’t even know are waiting for you.
In September last year, I couldn’t see any of mine.
I can now.
And I will forever be grateful that I got the chance to see them.
Please stay. 🤍