It was a dreary February day and I was thinking about my diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. At work and miserable, I turned over the possibility of using my negative experience for good.

Some of the best writers in history have found inspiration on their darkest nights. In this world, where the media are always encouraging young people to strive to look better and improve themselves, the beauty of who they are is often overlooked.

Even in one’s professional life, discrimination towards those with mental ill health is a huge problem, especially when it comes to borderline personality disorder. So, while browsing the web on my break, I was surprised to find Time to Change Wales, the Welsh campaign for ending the stigma and discrimination surrounding mental health.

Its website provided information about how to get involved. The idea of becoming a “volunteer champion” stood out to me. The charity offered training that would allow you to talk to colleagues and employers about your mental health, culminating in a talk to a roomful of people. I found the idea of being able to tell my story exciting, but also nerve-wracking. I am a shy, awkward person and I was afraid to let people in on my experience with this disorder. Nevertheless, I took the plunge and signed up.

The training took place over the summer and before I knew it, I was ready to tell my story. I didn’t think the charity would find me a place to speak so quickly, but just a month later it had a request from a local service user group.

However, the day before I was due to speak my disorder reared its ugly head again and I wound up in A&E after a suicide attempt. I couldn’t do this, could I?

My mother had to accompany me to the venue or I wouldn’t have gone. I didn’t think my talk was going to have any impact. I was trembling and the words came tumbling out rather too quickly, like water boiling over in a pan – but I did it. I managed to make it to the end without losing my audience’s attention.

Parts of my experience were particularly painful to talk about. Hallucinations are a pretty taboo subject, but I knew I had to convey that this was n0t a case of attention-seeking or playing games, as some professionals so kindly put it.

Breaking my silence about having been sectioned was a tough step too. But perhaps the most frightening part was revealing my suicide attempts.

I found that speaking openly about the times I had nearly killed myself brought a greater appreciation of the life I still have. I was able to re-evaluate my life through the eyes of my listeners, and realised that I could help those who might be considering suicide.

By the end of the talk I felt drained, but I could see that I had made a difference to those listeners who had also struggled with mental ill health. They – and I – had realised that honesty is not always something to be feared, that by opening up, those of us who were struggling alone with mental ill health could begin to heal. They knew I could say, “I understand”, and mean it. My talk even inspired an audience member to sign up to be a champion.

I am only a tiny way into my recovery, but I made a difference to the people in that room by sharing my story. By telling them that I was rediscovering a life worth living, despite my daily struggles with my disorder. That there was hope for all of us.

Louisa Tanner is a Time to Change Wales champion

In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is on 13 11 14. Hotlines in other countries can be found here.

The day I made a difference is the Guardian Voluntary Sector Network’s series that showcases the work of people involved with charities. If you have a story you want to share email voluntarysectornetwork@theguardian.com with a short summary of your experience.

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