The worst day of my life changed everything
A year ago I was experiencing the biggest crisis of my life. Here’s the story of how that helped me change everything for the better.
“Kevin, it can be fixed.”
The worst day of my life was a year ago today.
“I’ve ruined everything important to me forever… everything that makes life worth enduring.”
I’m reading back texts I exchanged with Aaron, my husband. I’d been feeling increasingly like I didn’t want to live any more, and finally hit breaking point. But it ended up being a turning point.
I wish it never happened. But, in a twisted way, it’s one of the best things that has happened to me.
“I’ve been trying my best to push through the last few weeks… it’s so mentally tiring… I really really really really can’t keep it up.”
My mental health had been deteriorating pretty consistently for the last couple of years.
Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe I’d just been increasingly aware of those struggles.
I spent pretty much the whole of my formative years really unwell with Crohn’s Disease. It was debilitating. While friends were exploring with friends after school, I was effectively housebound. While peers discovered themselves at uni, for me it was just about surviving.
It restricted me physically, and that restricted me mentally. I didn’t realise the problem at the time, but as I got healthier and more confident after a life-changing surgery, I became more and more aware of how much I had struggled in quiet.
And as I battled new experiences, new feelings, new challenges… I just couldn’t cope. I didn’t know how… and even if I did, I couldn’t find the strength. Struggles in work, regrets about the past, anxieties about the future, friendship breakdowns… there was no way for me to fight through them.
“I wish things were okay but they’re not and I don’t know how to fix it”
“I can’t work now you’ve said that — come and get me”
Aaron has been incredible throughout. On that day, he knew something was especially wrong. He walked out of work early, and insisted I go to A&E.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, wiping away a tear while trying to concentrate on the road ahead. But as he always is, Aaron was right. And as he always does, he won.
Having Aaron by my side had helped a lot, and I already felt a lot more stable. But at A&E, it was all down to me again. We were 4 months into lockdown by this point and hospitals were, of course, particularly cautious about who was allowed into clinical areas. Aaron talked to the reception desk, and I was whisked away to talk to a nurse, then another, then a doctor, I think.
I honestly don’t have any recollection of what happened. What we discussed, what they suggested, what the outcome was. I remember feeling slightly underwhelmed afterwards. But I was wrong to feel that way.
The next day, somebody from the local mental health service came to see me at home. And the day after that, I was starting a week-long residency at Oak House in Burnley.
“I can’t cope feeling like this. I can’t do it”
It sounded scary. It sounded big. And overwhelming. And embarrassing. And exposing.
And it felt right. I knew I needed it.
I still don’t really know how to describe Oak House. The NHS describes it as a “crisis house”.
“Oak House is a discreet place of sanctuary offering a calm space for people to get away from the negative influences in their lives and manage their mental health. Individuals are offered both one to one and group sessions to provide practical and emotional support, build resilience and promote self-help tools.”
The first emotion I think of when I look back is calm. I was greeted by a big garden, and stepping inside just felt like… a home. I remember my fears about it being clinical and scary and intimidating starting to disappear right away.
I settled in quickly, spoke to Aaron every night over the phone, and got on well with the other residents. And the staff were incredible — really, really friendly.
We worked on understanding what had happened, how I was feeling, and the causes behind it. Throughout the week I had one-on-one counselling sessions both exploring my situation, but also putting together a really practical action plan.
That practical side was important to me, because it felt tangible. I’ve had counselling before and didn’t get much out of it, but this felt like something I really could use.
The spiritual side, too. We had group sessions, and individual spaces and freedom, encouraging us to experience calmness. From yoga and meditation, to colouring books and walks in the park.
And one of the biggest factors for me, I think, was just… stepping out of life. It felt like I had left my life behind for a week and I could just… exist. My life had been a whirlwind for months and I was getting more and more caught up in it. Stepping out of that helped.
I was excited to leave after a week, if apprehensive. I remember seeing Aaron running up the garden towards me, and the intense warm feeling that gave me.
I had a breakdown a few days after leaving, and thought I’d wasted everything, but I was able to use the practical plans we put together and work my way out.
I wish it never happened. It was awful. But…
In a twisted way, it’s probably one of the best things that could have happened.
It scared me. And that motivated me. I realised how short life is. I realised how fragile life is. And I realised that I’m in control.
Within weeks, I’d applied for a new job at a really exciting company taking my career to the next level. User Conversion (as it was pre-acquisition), and now Brainlabs, put a big focus on mental health and wellbeing. That’s the number 1 reason that I chose them. And it’s been incredible — I’m happier, more fulfilled, and doing more impactful work than ever before.
A year on, I’m in the very final stages of completing a move to Manchester. Living in the country was nice, but… nothing happens. I felt bored. I felt lonely. Spending more time in the city has already been transformative to all of that, and I haven’t even moved yet.
I’ve found the confidence to meet new people, and to explore who I really am. I’ve been able to engage with the LGBTQ part of my identity and, as well as learning lots about myself, I’ve developed meaningful new relationships.
I feel like I know who I am, and what I want, better than I ever have before. And that feels really empowering.
And probably most impactful, I started playing football. I hadn’t played in about 20 years, but had wanted to get back into it, without really feeling able to do so. But I found an LGBTQ team — Village Manchester FC — which gave me the confidence and freedom to step in, and it has changed my life.
It’s helped me get fit. The routine has given my life more structure. I’ve met loads of friends in a positive and friendly and supportive environment. And it’s given me a sense of purpose and competitiveness. More to myself than anything else. I want to get better. I want to set goals for myself, and work towards smashing them. I’ve got a real hunger to be the best I can.
Not just playing, I’ve also found another community of LGBT football fans on Twitter who have helped me fall back in love with something I had both fallen away from, and actively pushed away, in the last few years.
These aren’t places I went looking for new friends, but from them I have found connections that feel really special to me.
I’ve had ups and downs but I have loved every single second. And Aaron tells me that when I’m not playing — whether it’s because of lockdowns, or injury, or the off-season — he notices my mood drop considerably.
Now, it all feels so far away.
Looking back on my texts from a year ago. At photos from my treatment. At where I was in life… it feels unrecognisable today.
I really didn’t want to go on living. And more than that, I felt incapable of fighting on.
But now, life is better than ever. I still have wobbles, of course. And there are still things I have to work hard on. But life feels good. I feel optimistic. I know that the most exciting parts are still ahead.
I’m proud of how I’ve recovered from my crisis, and fought to put myself first. And I’m thankful for the incredible people in my life. My friends have been amazing. My bosses at Door4, Sean and Leon, were caring and understanding throughout. My mum and my family have given me everything I needed. And most of all, Aaron — my best friend and husband — has been behind everything. He gives me the confidence and the security to do it all.
Life is hard.
But it gets better. I promise.
Update: January 2022
Since I wrote this, I’ve completed my move to Manchester, and it really has changed everything all over again. It’s been everything I wanted and a million times more. I’ve never felt more stable, more alive, or happier. Life will always throw challenges, but I know now that I am more than capable of facing up to them.
Life is short. Take control and live it your way.
