The hardest part of my recovery wasn’t being in hospital — it was what happened after I left.
I always knew being discharged wouldn’t be easy. I’d have to face the world again, be a mum again, somehow try to get better in the chaos of everyday life. I expected it to be challenging. What I didn’t expect was to be left with absolutely no support.
When I arrived in hospital, I was terrified, withdrawn, and broken. I barely spoke. I couldn’t cope with visitors. Slowly — painfully — I started to open up. I let my mum and my son Archie back into my world. I looked forward to their visits. I wasn’t healed, but I was finally heading in the right direction. I was building something. I had hope.
And then I was discharged.
No follow-up plan. No real aftercare. No structure. Suddenly, everything I’d fought to build started to fall apart. Progress I’d made was undone day by day, until I was back in a worse place than when I first arrived. At least in hospital, I was safe. Out here, I was alone — and dangerously unwell.
I could buy alcohol. I could buy medication. I could spiral, and no one would know until it was too late.
By the end of January, I was begging a doctor not to send me back to hospital. It was the day before Archie’s birthday. I promised I wouldn’t hurt myself — not yet. I needed to be there for my little boy. Two days later, at his party, I barely held it together. I told my mum I’d go, I’d smile, I’d make sure Archie had the day he deserved. But when the party was over, I was going straight to A&E. I needed help. I couldn’t survive another day without it.
I wasn’t just back at square one — I was worse. I was numb. Dying didn’t scare me anymore.
And that is what makes me so angry.
No one should be discharged from mental health care without support. No one should be left to fight this battle alone. And no child should have to come that close to losing their parent because the system can’t follow through.
💙 Why I’m Sharing This
I am more surprised to be sitting here writing this than I would have been to not be here at all. But I am here — and I’m using my voice to fight for change.
That’s why I started this charity. Because too many people are slipping through the cracks after discharge. Because too many parents, like me, are trying to survive for their children without the help they so urgently need. Because no one should have to hold on alone.
If my story resonates with you, or if you believe that aftercare should be more than just an afterthought — please support us.
Together, we can create a system that doesn’t just save lives in crisis — but supports them in recovery.
We can’t wait for the system to catch up. We have to be the change, now.
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