Mandy

My reasons for running London Landmarks Half Marathon for Mental Health UK

People see the training.

They see the miles, the discipline, and the determination.

What they don’t see is the battle that’s happening inside my mind.

I train even on the days when I’m completely exhausted. Even on the days when simply getting through the day feels impossible. From the outside it might look like dedication. The truth is, sometimes it’s survival.

I live with burnout, body dysmorphia, and a mind that never seems to stop.

From the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep, there’s a constant voice in my head telling me I’m worthless. That I’m useless. That I’m failing. It tells me I’ve failed my children, that I’ve damaged them, and that there’s nothing I can do to fix it. It tells me they’d be better off without me. When those thoughts fill your mind every single day, they can feel impossible to escape.

I’m the parent of two incredible neurodivergent children, and I love them more than anything in this world. But love doesn’t make it easy. There are days filled with meltdowns, screaming, shouting, running away, and trying to keep everyone safe. My nervous system feels like it’s permanently stuck in fight-or-flight mode. I’m constantly overwhelmed, anticipating the next crisis, never fully able to relax and never able to switch off.

My children are also my greatest fear. I constantly worry that something terrible will happen to them. I’ve even had nightmares about losing them that have left me devastated for days. Living with a mind that is always expecting the worst is exhausting. It never lets me rest.

There are days when everything feels overwhelming and I question whether I’m doing enough for my children. My mind can be harsh, telling me I’ve fallen short or that someone else might do a better job. It convinces me that by staying, I’m only damaging them more. It tells me I’ve already failed them and that there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Those thoughts are incredibly difficult to face because they don’t reflect how deeply I love my children- but in those moments, they can feel frighteningly real.

There are days when I become so overwhelmed that I just can’t cope. Days when I desperately want to run away from the pressure, the guilt, and the constant feeling that I’m never enough. I want to escape the relentless thoughts that never seem to stop.

There have been moments when I’ve wished I wouldn’t wake up because my mind convinced me my family would be better off without me. Those are the darkest moments of all. They are terrifying to admit, but I know I’m not the only person who has ever experienced thoughts like these.

Mental illness doesn’t always look like someone falling apart. Sometimes it looks like someone who keeps showing up. Someone who keeps training. Someone who keeps smiling while carrying battles nobody else can see.

I’m sharing this because I know there are others living with these same thoughts, suffering in silence because they’re too afraid to tell anyone what’s really going on. If that’s you, I want you to know you are not alone.

This challenge is about so much more than miles or finish lines.

Every training session is for the people fighting battles nobody else can see.

Every donation, no matter how big or small, helps fund vital mental health services and brings us one step closer to a world where mental health is treated with the same importance as physical health.

If my story encourages just one person to speak up, ask for help, or realise they’re not alone, then every mile, every difficult training session, and every difficult day will have been worth it.

Thank you for supporting my challenge.

Together, let’s turn awareness into action and remind people that no matter how dark life may feel, they never have to face it alone.