I doubt anyone will read this, hahaha.

WARNING: I'm not one to beat around the bush. This may be a tad upsetting to some of our more innocent members.

I grew up in a family of cold, hard atheists. Completely non-believing, entirely intolerant of religion in any form. When I was 9 years old, I asked my mother if she thought there was an afterlife, and she replied with, "Why would there be?".

I also grew up in one of the crappiest towns in one of the crappiest counties in England - which shall remain nameless for stalker reasons. Just trust me. It's not a very nice place.

When I was 12, I got into the wrong crowd. I had my first taste of alcohol at a show put on by a couple of local bands, and I loved it. From then on, every chance I had to get so drunk that I couldn't walk, or try new, harder drugs, I'd do it. I was kind of fearless, and probably one of the most "respected" members in my group in terms of being a heavyweight drinker. If I'd been 40 instead of 14, I probably would have been considered an alcoholic. When I was 15 I started doing Ecstasy, and quite a few times, someone had to drag me away from a coke dealer. It was my release. Drugs were a reason for me to keep going - I had the weekend to look forward to, the time where I could get so blitzed out of my brains that I couldn't think about how much I despised myself.

Around the same time, between the ages of 13 and 15, I became infected with an eating disorder. I say "infected" because I like to think of Anorexia nervosa as a type of bacteria that grows in your brain, eating away at your thoughts and your sense of perception. My lowest weight was around 94lbs, I think. At 5'5, that wasn't a pretty sight. It completely took over my life. I don't really want to go into it now.

So, that, coupled with my drug habits, meant that my predicted GCSE (high school) grades slipped from straight As to Ds and Es. I didn't care either way - I didn't attend school for the majority of year 10. My school was so rubbish at keeping track of kids who bunked off that I could just walk straight out of the gates in the middle of the day, and no one would notice.

I felt like a ghost. More like half a person, or a body with barely any soul left. Sure, I was "popular" and I had a lot of "friends" and I was "respected" but I had no substance, and no regular or normal thought patterns. I couldn't think of any reason to live anymore. My parents were so caught up in the rest of my family - one brother was graduating medical school, another was graduating film school and the last one was a more verbal version of myself, who was absolutely awful at hiding his own drug addictions. I had no friends I could confide in. I didn't have anything. I really can't explain my depression in coherent sentences. It's like... my mind was engulfed in this thick, black fog, which I couldn't seem to escape from.

I started cutting myself, and not neatly. I'd have to sit in the bathroom for an hour or two after slicing my legs up, crying in pain as I tried desperately to wash myself and stem the blood flow. I had huge, ugly scars trailing up my thighs and all over my stomach. There was always a little voice in the back of my brain, urging me to go further, to just finish the job.

So I did, in February of last year, 2 months shy of my 16th birthday. I downed a litre bottle of cheap vodka and choked on as many pain-killer drugs I could find, or take, before I passed out. I woke up a few hours later, covered in puke, to the sounds of a screaming friend's mother (clever Hannah, do it at your mates house...). I was absolutely terrified. I called my mum and had her pick me up down the road from the girl's house, because her mother was shouting at me about influencing her precious daughter to drink - it apparently slipped her mind that I'd just attempted suicide. She demanded my home number so she could "speak to my mother" - so of course I gave her a fake one.

On the way home, my mum didn't notice that I had vomit on one side of my face. Kinda tells you something about how people can look at you, without actually seeing you.

The friend's mother called my school, and explained the situation. Apparently I'd written a suicide note which consisted of two pages "I hate myself and I want to die", which was then splattered in my puke. I don't remember writing it. The school called my mum. I can't even begin to explain what it feels like to admit to your own mother than you tried to commit suicide. It's the most horrible thing that I've ever had to do.

They took me up to hospital, and I guess that's where my testimony begins. I should have died that night. Because I'd already had enough to drink to technically make myself fall asleep before I took all of those drugs, the fact that my vomit reflex still worked is, well... it's actually a miracle. God saved me physically before I was saved spiritually.

The people at the hospital immediately signed me up to a therapist. The day after being admitted, I was seen by a psychologist who took a history, and then 3 days later I began my treatment.

After the suicide attempt, I was a total wreck. I became absolutely and completely terrified that people would find out. I couldn't come to terms with what I'd done, or anything that I'd done in the past. I had my first panic attack at school, the day I came back. I was convinced people knew. I became completely paranoid, and I closed up into a little ball of nervousness. It was a trigger to what would develop into Panic and Anxiety disorder, with a nice handful of agoraphobia. That was my second meeting with God - my only calm came after I started researching Christianity.

It sounds a little cheesy, but the first time I really came to terms with everything was after I watched that skit, the one to the song "Everything" by Lifehouse. I broke down into floods of tears right in the middle of my kitchen, and I just started praying. This is coming from a girl who had never had any religious influence or guidance in her life - I was praying with every ounce of energy I had, just to cling onto something that I didn't know anything about. I felt whole, I felt happy, and I felt loved.

Ahh. I'm trespassing into corny territory. I'm crying right now, hahahaa. That ^ was me being saved. A little unconventional, but the absolute greatest experience of my life. I'm now definitely still dealing with my anxiety, but I'm a healthy weight, with intact skin and a cleaner liver.

Yup.