Six months to choose LIFE or DEATH

We can all hide behind the mask of a smile

It was January 2003, and I was deep into my Trade Training at RAF Halton when I was called into my Flight Commander’s office. She was a Flight Lieutenant, responsible for my welfare during training. Normally warm and talkative, this time her face was filled with sadness.

She told me my mum was in hospital and that I needed to go home immediately. She offered to pay for a train ticket, but I chose to drive. I needed space to think although I had no idea what was waiting for me.

My mum had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Just one week later, she passed away at the age of 51. My world fell apart. I had so many questions. How can someone be diagnosed with cancer and die just days later? Was there something more that could’ve been done?

A week after my mum’s funeral, my dad was admitted to hospital with a chest infection something he jokingly referred to as his “annual MOT.” He had bronchitis and emphysema, and had been hospitalised before. They usually cleared the infection, and he went home. But this time was different.

Two days after being admitted, he suffered a massive heart attack. We were told to get to the hospital immediately. Surrounded by his family, my dad passed away just one week after my mum.

Losing Myself

Shock. Disbelief. Despair. I felt emotionally and physically numb.

Only four months earlier, I had joined the Royal Air Force, full of excitement and hope. I was the happiest and strongest I’d been in years. But that version of me the hopeful one disappeared. I lost her, and I didn’t know how to get her back.

I was given time off before returning to RAF Halton to complete my Trade Training. People didn’t know how to speak to me. I became “the girl who lost both her parents.” I made it through training, barely, and received my first posting: RAF Fylingdales, a remote radar station in the North Yorkshire Moors.

To this day, I wonder why the military thought it was a good idea to send me somewhere so isolated. The base had just 16 people living on-site. The nearest town was 10 miles away. I was surrounded by fields, sheep, and rabbits. That’s when I hit rock bottom.

Wearing the Mask

On the outside, I looked fine. I wore my uniform, showed up to work, did my job. But inside, I was falling apart.

Most evenings, I ran on the treadmill until I was physically exhausted. Then I’d drink a bottle of wine and cry. Sometimes I punched the walls or kicked the cupboards in frustration. My lowest point came one night when I woke up at exactly 4:10 a.m. I walked out into the corridor, sat on the floor, and thought: Who am I? I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t me.

I banged my head against the wall, wishing the pain would knock me out, just so it would stop.

In that moment, I gave myself a choice: die or fight. And for reasons I still can’t fully explain, I gave myself six months to try and turn things around.

Choosing Life

That morning, I went to see the Station Medical Officer. I told him I wasn’t sleeping, that I wasn’t coping. He referred me to a counsellor at a hospice in Scarborough someone I now call my angel. Without her, I truly don’t think I’d be here today.

I talked to her about my depression, panic attacks, and the nightmares keeping me awake. At first, I found it difficult to open up. I tried to deflect and steer the conversation away from myself. But she gently held the mirror up. She saw through the mask.

I saw her every week for six months, the time I had given myself.

I can’t say I suddenly became joyful and full of life, but I wanted to live. And that was the beginning.

Her support changed me. I knew I wanted to help others the way she helped me to be there for people in their darkest moments.

Rebuilding & Giving Back

I stayed in the RAF for six years. During that time, I began studying in the evenings, building qualifications that would allow me to support others. In 2008, I left the RAF and started my own Holistic Therapy business. One step led to another, and today I support people mentally, physically and emotionally.

People often ask me, “How did you get through it?” Honestly, it’s been incredibly hard. It’s taken deep, consistent self-work.

I’ve learned to nourish my body, move it, calm my mind, and carve out space for self-care. And today, I love what I do. I’m inspired daily by the people I work with and their stories of resilience.

Inspire Me, Inspire You

My mission is simple: to inspire others, and to be inspired in return.

That’s why I named my business "Inspire Me Inspire You."

If you're struggling with grief, stress, identity, or just feeling stuck, please know you're not alone. I'm here to help.

You're welcome to reach out for a free consultation via the contact page on this website. Your journey doesn't have to begin with certainty. It just needs to begin.