Three years ago today I tried to kill myself, which is really brilliant timing given that September 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day.

It's a strange anniversary, and one I now use to take stock of the progress I've made despite the times when it all feels so hopeless and death seems like the only way to escape the pain.

Three years on I can honestly say I'm happy I survived. Most of the time anyway.

I suppose I'm saying this for myself as much as for anyone who may resonate at the moment. It really does get better. Every time.