On May 17, 2023, after a full day of work, an Irish dancing class and a takeaway, I went to bed with a migraine. And I woke up in A&E. I was told I'd had a seizure. I wasn’t that bothered at first, because I’d just started HRT and thought it was related. The first thing I was told was my instant ban from driving for one year. I was devastated as driving was one of my big joys. But over my 12 days in hospital the news got worse, it was a suspected brain tumour. Within two weeks, I had brain surgery, which I was terrified about.

As I recovered and learned to navigate a brain injury, the results were in from the biopsy, and they weren’t looking good. Another horrendous night followed, and the following day I met with the oncologist and specialist nurse. They were lovely. They gave me time to tell my story, and I trusted them. I’d experienced depression and anxiety for years following multiple traumatic events, plus PTSD a year previously.

And I’d worked for 17 years as a counsellor, trauma therapist and manager in the NHS. I had extensive personal therapy as required for my work.

As my partner and I had not been able to have kids, work was my passion. Every time I sat waiting for radiotherapy, i had a trauma response triggering me back to the day when the doctor called me into the room to give me the diagnosis.

I started to cry every day in the waiting room. The radiotherapy team asked if I wanted to speak to someone.

Half an hour later a lovely woman came to talk, we had some time, and i explained how terrified, upset and angry I was that I'd been given the diagnosis but with no emotional support. I was utterly traumatised.

She was great and turned out to be a psychiatrist. and we had in-person sessions and on the phone when unwell. I felt really listened to, and in safe hands.

As a trauma therapist, I believe emotional support should be offered at the point of diagnosis, the same day. This is particularly important if a patient had pre-existing difficulties. If I had had intervention from the start, maybe I wouldn’t have slipped as low.

I was terrified about losing my hair. I was bullied at school for being ginger, but it then became my superpower.

It defined me in a way. The week I started treatment, my best friend ended our friendship. I felt like I'd been kicked even further down. It was so lonely.

I became more and more isolated. My partner was working with an excellent psychiatrist, but any advice I received was informal and mediated through my partner’s professional relationship, and I needed something more structured for myself.

I was terrified on every level; it was like a nightmare. I felt like my life and career had been a waste of time; there was no point to me.

Overnight, i lost the structure, support and social side of work which allowed me to manage my mental health and function. Suddenly, i was stuck at home.

More coping mechanisms went – no driving to loud tunes, and singing along to music, no way to go and grab a nice coffee. No local friends.

This period was dark in every way, the winter days long as my medical team and I tried to find a different antidepressant whilst I was on their waiting list for a psychologist. My psychiatrist and a few friends were my lifeline – plus the kindness of strangers.

And then the perfect storm happened. The anti-depressants worked. I had sessions with the specialist psychologist who helped me with strategies and normalised my experience.

I joined a local women’s group, and started to laugh and smile. I got support from Brainstrust and accessed activities and support groups through them. I wrote a poem. I felt joy again.

My partner, family and I now try to live in the moment when we can and appreciate simple things. Every day is still hard; I experience so many feelings every day – but at the moment – I’m coping and thriving.