Why I Founded What About Now?

Every now and again, I feel the need to re-introduce myself and explain why I founded What About Now?

As many of you know, in October 2024 I was admitted to hospital following a suicide attempt. I spent six weeks on a psychiatric ward.

During that time, I saw just how serious the mental health crisis in the UK really is.

My stay involved very little treatment beyond medication. That wasn’t because the doctors and nurses didn’t care — it was because they were desperately understaffed and stretched beyond capacity. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day. Inpatient care is often about keeping you alive, not about helping you heal.

When I was discharged, I believed support would finally begin.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Fast forward to January 2026 and I am still no closer to receiving the treatment I need.

Promises have been made.
Those same promises have been broken.

Despite complaints, despite “lessons learned,” despite people saying the right things — nothing has changed.

Since leaving hospital, I have attempted to take my own life on numerous occasions. I never imagined I would be back in that place, but without meaningful help, I have been there far too many times.

Before all of this, I was a secondary school teacher.
I have lost who I was — and yes, I do blame the system in some ways.

There is something I haven’t shared before, but I feel it matters.

In December 2025, I reached another breaking point. I left my house with the intention of dying. I blocked anyone who might come looking for me and walked into the woods.

After some time, I realised I couldn’t do that to my son — not so close to Christmas. But I also knew that if I didn’t get help, it would only be a matter of time before I lost that fight.

So I went to A&E.
I told them clearly: If I don’t get help, I am going to take my own life.

The nurse sent me back to the waiting room to wait for the mental health team.

It was overcrowded. Loud. Chaotic.
I was in absolute crisis — and it was the last place I should have been.

So I left.

I had reached out for safety, and I was let down.
Not for the first time.

I later received an appointment with the mental health team — for March.

My story is not a one-off.
I didn’t fall through the cracks because of a small administrative error.

And believe it or not, I am one of the lucky ones.
So many others don’t make it.

Something has to change.
And that change has to start somewhere.