Manchester Mind became my lifeline… A personal story
06/08/2025
For many years, my mental health declined and went downhill until I reached rock bottom and felt I had nowhere to turn. My mind became a prison, with symptoms such as depression, anxiety, voices in my head, negative thoughts, fear, isolation and paranoia. Where light once filled my thoughts, darkness moved in and made itself home in my mind. And my psychosis, the cruelest of my demons, shattered my grip on what was real, leaving me stranded in a world where shadows spoke to me.
Bit by bit, the voice in my head tore me down: “You’re worthless. You’re broken. No one wants you around.” The me that believed in myself, trusted others and leaned on friends and family feels like they existed a lifetime ago.
The thought of facing people filled me with pure terror and distress. Walking into a shop, my heart would pound so hard I thought it might burst. I didn’t choose to be alone. It just happened, one canceled plan at a time, one ignored call after another, until my world shrank to the size of my bedroom. In this tiny universe, I existed but didn’t live, haunted by memories of who I used to be.
Four years ago, with my last scrap of courage, I dragged myself to Manchester Mind. I wasn’t looking for a miracle. I was looking for witnesses to my slow disappearance. What I found instead saved my life. That first day, my hands shook badly, and my voice cracked when I tried to speak. But for the first time in years, someone actually heard me – not just my words, but the pain behind them.
“I know that feeling,” someone said after I managed to stammer out how I couldn’t trust my own thoughts anymore. “Last week, I was convinced my neighbor was poisoning my mail.” Simple words, but they hit me like a lightning bolt. I wasn’t the only one, I wasn’t alone in this nightmare.
Manchester Mind became my lifeline. Not just helpful but necessary and critical for my survival. Without my Friday meetings, I would have been swallowed whole by the darkness years ago.
The people in my group saw me, they really saw me. They didn’t offer empty promises that everything would be okay. Instead, they offered something far more precious: “I’m still here too. I’m still fighting too.” The valuable insight and getting together weekly gave a sense of belonging and personal friendships have now been formed, restoring my trust again in humans.
Now, when darkness closes in, I hear other voices too, the real ones, from people who sit beside me every Friday in the Manchester Mind group session, who nod in understanding when words fail me and have become my family, which I could not survive without.
Without Manchester Mind, I wouldn’t be here writing these words. That’s not dramatic, it’s simply true. When the urge to end it all becomes overwhelming, and it still does, I hold onto the memories of the laughter we now have in our great group and the great words of wisdom I hear from our group members.