​I couldn’t handle noise. Couldn’t think. I just walked out of my house — no idea where I was going. I wandered the streets in tears, completely lost. I remember looking at trees and thinking: “I could hang myself from there.”

That thought terrified me.

How had I gone from feeling completely normal… to this?
What the hell was happening to me?

​

Eventually, I ended up on my mum’s doorstep. She opened the door and we just hugged. 

Behind the dark thoughts I always knew I had to get better. I’ve got a wife and two young kids. They needed me. They still do. That’s what’s kept me going.

​

But I’m not going to lie — the “help” I got was a system. Cold. Clinical. Forms and tick boxes.
When I got CBT, it was a phone session with 50 other people. Weirdly, that was comforting at first. But I still felt like a number.
I dropped out halfway through. No one checked where I’d gone.

​

What I really needed was a space.
Not a form. Not a stranger reading questions off a screen.
I needed to talk to someone who got it.

Someone like me. Another lad going through the same silent storm.

​

I didn’t have that back then.

So I built it.

Say It Lad.

​

We’re here — I’m here — to talk. No bullshit. No clipboard.

Just a space to say it. Loud or quiet. Once or often.

With someone who actually understands.