I always wanted to be a mother. I couldn’t conceive of a world where I wasn’t a mother. I was 45 years old when I finally had to face the fact that it was never going to happen for me. I was always going to be childless by circumstance, not by choice.

I was devastated. And I was left with a choice. I either found a way to live with it or I gave in to the Depression, which to me, probably meant drinking myself to death. 

Obviously, I chose the first option, or I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. But, it wasn’t easy. There were many days, and nights, when option two seemed like a much better idea. I think what kept me going was the idea that if I gave in, all the things I’d learned over the years would be lost. Those lessons would mean nothing because I’d not passed them on.

At that time, I’d been treated for Depression for approximately 25 years. I should have been treated for longer but back then nobody realized that children could be Depressed. I’d never been actively suicidal, I was more likely to die from a stupid accident or prolonged self-harm.

Once I’d made the decision to live and to keep fighting, I had to find a way to do it. I decided to use the same tactics I advised my clients to use and I began to write my feelings down. I wasn’t ready to write about my childlessness experience at that time, so I decided to write the vampire novel I’d wanted to write since I was a kid.

That first book was shit. As all first books are, and should be. I may publish it one day but it will take a whole lot of revising and editing before that happens. But writing that book was a real eye-opener for me. It reminded me of just how much I loved to write.

I love words. I love telling stories. I love creating. I love spreading ideas and putting knowledge into the world.

I also love vampires. Dark, delicious, evil, vampires. Monsters. There’ll be no sparklers here, thank you very much. I’m sure there’s a deep and meaningful correlation between my love of the undead and the fact that there have been so many deaths in my life, starting with my father when I was six years old. Oh yeah, and I love psychology.

I don’t love Depression, but I’ve lived with it for most of my life. We’re old frenemies now. I’ve also worked in mental health for over 25 years and I have a BA in Psychology. That doesn’t make me an expert though. I’m only an expert in my own mental health. But, I have learned some shit.

I’m on a mission to reduce the global suicide rate to zero. It’s a lofty goal, I know, but it’s one worth striving for. Nobody should ever, ever, feel that their best option is to be dead. Nobody.

But to ensure we have a world where nobody kills themselves, we have to build the right kind of society. What’s the right kind? One that celebrates what makes people “different” rather than denigrates them. One that ensures people feel comfortable asking for help, whenever they need it and knowing that they’ll be listened to with respect and love. One where people who say “how are you?” really want to know the answer. They’re not just being polite. And one where mental illness, suicide, and psychosis are all every day conversations and not a dirty little secret.

I write with humor, well, okay, with sarcasm, and I have a vivid imagination. I hope to stir your imagination too. I use bad words when I write too, because I use them when I speak. If the word fuck offends you, you might want to put my book down and choose another.

Go on, I won’t be offended.