I believe it takes a particular kind of hatred, a deep moral rot, to be able to set fire to an ambulance.

That’s not a metaphor to me either. When I needed emergency spinal surgery to stop me being paralysed, I was airlifted to hospital. When I was hit by a van while cycling and left with multiple injuries, ambulances carried the people who saved me from death. So when I saw that four ambulances belonging to Hatzola, a Jewish volunteer emergency organisation in North London, had been set alight in what police are calling an antisemitic attack, I didn’t see it as a distant news story.

Instead I saw an attack on one of the clearest promises a community, a society, can make. And that is, when everything goes wrong, someone will come.

That’s what an ambulance means.

It’s not merely transport. It’s a public vow that speed matters, skill matters, and mercy matters. It says a stranger’s life is worth racing towards. It says that when a life starts slipping away we’ve built something to answer that fact. Strip away all the fancy slogans about values and inclusion and care, and you arrive at something baseline. A society reveals itself by what it protects when it's tested. So, what on earth does it mean when even an ambulance becomes a target?

Honestly, a heck of a lot.

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The image is utterly shocking for a reason. We know that an ambulance basically has one purpose. It goes towards danger when someone else can’t. An ambulance closes the gap between catastrophe and survival! To attack it is to show complete contempt for rescuing a life itself, and maybe that’s what hit me the hardest. Hatred is never satisfied with private prejudice. It wants to make public life nastier, meaner, and altogether less trusting. It wants visibility to feel scary. Hatred wants communities to retreat.

That’s why the answer matters.

Government ministers have said the destroyed ambulances will be replaced. And so they should be! But replacement of the vehicles is only the immediate response. The bigger question is whether we, as civil human society, still understand what these vehicles stand for, and whether we have the seriousness to defend that principle in public life. Hatzola’s ambulances weren’t symbols in a vague sense. They were working instruments of care, used by volunteers serving a huge community full of people from diverse backgrounds, cultures and religions. That matters.

I keep coming back to one thought, as I always do. Hope, it must be visible, somewhere?

People speak of hope as though it’s a personal mood, but I don’t think that’s where its deepest power lies. Hope becomes consequential when it takes form in our world. It has wheels. It has a phone line. It has a sign. It has a person who turns up. It becomes something a frightened human being might actually be able to find.

An ambulance is one form of visible hope. It really is.

So is our Mobile Harbour at EPiC HOPE. Our ambulance.

So is Project Bridge Aid, and the petition we’re backing to fund crisis support signs with local support information and helpline details on motorway and railway bridges across the UK. The petition is live now. Its mission is simple. In places where despair can become dangerously physical, support should be easier to see.

You might be thinking, well, isn’t that obvious. Yes it is. Yet obvious things are often the ones most neglected.

People who have never stood close to crisis tend to imagine that lives are saved by dramatic encounters or perfect systems. Sometimes that can true. But mostly, survival turns on interruption. A pause. A sign. A number. A voice. A vehicle arriving in time. Something in the physical world that breaks that numb, closed logic of despair and says, quite bluntly, there really is another option available to you.

What is an ambulance if not that?!

What is a mobile crisis response service if not that?!

What is a sign on a bridge if not hope made legible at the point where legibility may matter most?!

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To me, this is moral infrastructure. It’s moral seriousness in practical form.

At EPiC HOPE, we know that when someone is struggling with suicidal thoughts, the main thing that matters is presence. Actual presence. Not a vague reassurance that help exists somewhere, buried in a system, waiting at the far end of a queue. Presence that comes towards you. Presence that can be reached. Presence that interrupts the deadly lie that no one sees you and no one is coming.

That’s why the Mobile Harbour matters to me.

That’s why the bridge signs campaign matters to me.

These are forms of public care that don’t ask a person in crisis to perform calmness, confidence, or administrative competence before support becomes available! My goodness, don’t get me started on that line of thought. They say something much easier. Help is near. Stay a little longer. Let someone in. We really, really care about you.

Perhaps that’s what hatred fears most. Not random ideals, but visible acts of care. The ordinary stubbornness of people who decide to make rescue public, local, and hard to miss. If being stubborn can help us to save countless families and communities from grieving more suicide loss, then stubborn we shall be.

The Hatzola attack should be named clearly for what it is. An antisemitic attack on a Jewish volunteer service. That fact absolutely matters. It’s a hate crime. But it also tells us something further about the age we’re living in. We’re surrounded by rhetoric about care, mental health, and community, yet public life continues to be arranged in ways that make actual support hard to see and hard to reach. An ambulance cuts through all that. So does a crisis van. So does a sign on a bridge. They are refreshingly free of pretence. They don’t perform compassion. They embody it.

And that’s why this has stayed with me at such a personal level.

As I said earlier, I know what ambulances are for. I owe too much to them and the paramedics who travel and work in them. They belong to the category of things that become visible in a person’s life when that life can be suddenly at stake. One day you’re moving through the world as normal, and the next, you’re dependent on the skill and care of strangers. You discover very quickly what matters then. Not race. Not religion. Not rhetoric. Competence. Urgency. Human beings willing to move towards suffering rather than away from it.

What could be more civilised than that?

And what could be more barbaric than trying to destroy it?

Hope, in the end, isn’t a mood. It’s a choice about what we place in the world. What we make easier to find. What we refuse to let hatred, despair, or indifference erase. If despair makes people invisible, hope makes them easier to see. If hatred tries to turn care into a target, the answer can’t be retreat. It has to be more building.

Replace the ambulances. Protect the volunteers. Put support where people can see it.

On roads. On bridges. In neighbourhoods. In vehicles. In communities. In all the ordinary places where a human life may be one interruption away from survival.

Some people will always try to set fire to the things that keep others alive.

Our job is to keep building them anyway.

And me, I’ll keep stubbornly building. You matter. And so do I.

With Warmth,

Ellie X

P.S. If you would sign the petition I’d be very grateful. You could save a life. Thank you

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TW - I’m discussing suicide prevention.

If I wanted something easy to research, I should’ve stuck with my ancestry or swapped to gardening. Even interior design feels easy compared to this work. Well, definitely easier on the brain! But here I am, spending days (and nights), thinking about people on the edge, those horrendous, in-between times where someone’s not sure if they’re staying or leaving. I’ve been there and I know there are ways through. It sounds intense I know, and it is, but the part I try to focus on isn’t the despair. It’s what people can find inside themselves when things get as rough as they possibly can. Here’s 20 things that I’ve learned. (This isn’t it everything. It’s just a very condensed few points I wanted to share).

1. Hope Isn’t Just a Feeling. It’s Real!
And science backs it up. Hope actually lowers the risk of suicide. What surprises me is how hope can show up before anything else gets better. Just talking things through changes how we feel physically as well as mentally and emotionally. Giving someone a safe place to be really can change everything.

2. Community Gets It Done When Systems Can’t
The best help I’ve seen comes from ordinary people, not big organisations. Friends, neighbours, volunteers, people who’ve been there and want to help. It’s amazing what happens when people decide they’re not letting anyone disappear.

3. There’s Always a Part of Someone That Wants to Keep Going
Even when things are really bad, most people have some tiny part of them that doesn’t want to give up. Our job isn’t to ‘rescue’ or ‘fix’ anyone, but to help that little part hold on. That matters massively.

4. It’s About Catching the Moment, Not Being Perfect
You don’t need all the answers. Sometimes you just have to be there at the right time. Research shows that even a short pause can make a difference. A lot of the time, hope is just getting through tonight.

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5. People Need Respect as Much as Safety
Not one person I’ve ever met wants to feel like a box to tick off. Me neither. People want to be treated like they matter.

6. Lived Experience Counts
Book knowledge helps, but nothing beats understanding because you’ve lived it. The best support anyone can get mixes both.

7. Most People Don’t Want to Die. They Want Relief from the Pain
It’s rarely about dying. Most people just want the pain to stop. The best support helps someone work through the pain.

8. Little Things in the Room Matter
A smile, a calm voice, a hot cuppa, these all shape how safe someone feels. Our bodies actually notice this stuff before we’ve even processed it.

9. Bridges Are More Than Concrete
They are where decisions get made. Working in crisis means standing and being with people at those places where anything could happen.

10. Stigma Is So Obvious
You can see it in how people are treated when they’re struggling. Studying crisis support and intervention means facing some very ugly realities, but also seeing people really step up for each other.

11. Peers Make a Difference
Hearing “I’ve been there too” can definitely help someone respond to support. It’s an extremely powerful thing.

12. Tiny Gestures Add Up
Looking someone in the eye. Remembering their name. Speaking gently. These things might seem inconsequential, but they matter a lot.

13. Crisis Tends to Build Up Over Time
It’s not always one bad thing; it’s a pile of stress and hurt that adds up. Proper, good support looks at the whole story, not just the ending.

14. Micro Contact Can Reduce Repeat Attempts
Follow-up and continuity matters a lot. Even brief, but caring contact interventions have reduced suicide mortality rates.

15. Feeling Like You Belong Helps Prevent Suicide
The more connected someone is, the less likely the bad thoughts are to take over. Feeling part of something really does help.

16. Hope Can (and does) Come Back
Even if someone has lost all hope, it can return. Hope is something people can build up again.

17. Words Shape Recovery
Even though it is describing something that happened, phrases like ‘attempted suicide’ sound harsh and shaming. Saying someone ‘survived a crisis’ gives them back some dignity. That’s big and matters.

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18. Local Community Groups Move Fast
Grassroots groups with local people can change things quickly and they tend to know what people need in their vicinities. There’s a lot of value in being close to the people you help.

19. Not Every Crisis Is Obvious
Sometimes, the most dangerous situations are the ones where people go quiet or pull away. Not necessarily in a dramatic way, just a slow fade. That silence can be a huge warning sign.

20. Hope Spreads from Person to Person
The more I see it, the more I believe in it. Hope passes between people, even when you don’t notice it happening. That’s the main reason I stick with this work. If only we could have an epidemic of hope!

If you want to know why I care so much about community-led crisis support, it’s because I’ve seen what happens when hope is happening, when it’s possible, and not just an idea someone mentions, but something you can feel in the room.

The more you really look at suicide, the clearer one thing becomes. Suicidal crises don’t last forever. In fact, they’re usually short, overwhelming, and crucially, interruptible.

People can go from desperate to ok in the space of a few minutes (Deisenhammer et al., 2009). The urge to die surges and fades. It isn’t constant. And research tells us something else that’s really important. Making it harder to access lethal means actually brings suicide rates down. It doesn’t just push the problem somewhere else.

This is massive.

One of the ways we can help is at bridges. A bridge isn’t only concrete and steel. Heartbreakingly, at times, it turns into a place where someone has to make a life or death decision. When someone’s thoughts shrink down to a tiny, dark tunnel and the rest of the world seems to vanish, that’s when interruption can quite literally save a life.

A sign with a helpline number and local support services on it isn’t just another bit of roadside clutter. It’s a wedge in the tunnel vision. It cracks open a little space in the mind. It says, “Here’s another way. Stop for a second. Breathe.” That second might be all that’s needed.

That’s why at my organisation we’ve started a UK Petition. We’re calling for national funding, real money, for suicide prevention signs on motorway and railway bridges. This isn’t about making ourselves feel better. It’s not for show. It’s prevention backed by science.

The fact that we know these moments can be interrupted, and we know that making help visible actually saves lives, then our roads and infrastructure should reflect that. It’s that simple.

If you believe suicide prevention should be obvious, practical, and supported on a national level, please sign and share the petition.

Hope isn’t meant to be hidden away.

Fund crisis support signs on motorway and railway bridges

If this resonated with you please consider sharing it. Suicide prevention needs louder voices supporting it.

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With Warmth,

Ellie

There’s a sentence I heard years ago that never left me.

Your commitment has to be stronger than your emotions.

I didn’t like it when I first heard it. It felt blunt. A bit unforgiving. The sort of phrase that sounds ok until you imagine living by it.

But it’s one of the core values of my life now and has been for, well almost a couple of decades. I couldn’t have continued in the work I did, the life I lived, or the work I do now if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe that your commitment has to be miles stronger than any emotion you’re feeling.

We live in a culture that treats emotions as authority. How you feel is taken seriously, and rightly so.

But it’s also treated as decisive. If something feels draining, uncomfortable, or no longer fulfilling to us, we are encouraged to listen to that feeling and adjust accordingly, most of the time, instantly. We live in an instant world.

Is that wisdom? Is it really simply self-protection?

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Emotions are real. They matter. But they fluctuate with sleep, stress, health issues, hunger, and other life circumstances. Emotions are very good at telling you how you’re doing. They are terrible at telling you what you actually owe.

I learned this early in my career from my old boss, Bill Wilson. He is a renowned American who founded an international children’s charity 50 plus years ago that has reached hundreds of thousands of children around the world. To this day the lessons I learned from him resonate deeply and I often think about what he would do in any given circumstance. He has spent decades close to need. The kind of need that doesn’t pause while you regroup. When working at Metro World Child, we were taught if you were ill, you don’t ‘call in sick’ ‘you ‘crawl in sick!’

He used to say, the need is the cause. But the sentence that stayed with me was the harder one.

Your commitment has to be stronger than your emotions.

You might be wondering what did he mean exactly by that.

He definitely didn’t mean ignoring exhaustion or pretending doubt doesn’t exist. He understood both of those. But what he refused to indulge in was the idea that the work we did revolved around how you happened to feel that day. We were dealing with much more important things!

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When children need food, safety, or care, should whether you feel up to it that day, because you’re feeling emotional, or you fell out with someone, or you’re not feeling motivated, get the vote as to whether you do the work? When lives depend on systems holding together, does low morale justify stepping back?

It’s done when they feel tired. Or overwhelmed. It’s done by people who would quite like to stop, but don’t, because stopping would cost someone else something real. Like maybe their life.

Single parents know this. Carers. Volunteers. Leaders who carry responsibility long after the initial sense of calling has worn thin.

Is that heroism? Not really. I think it is commitment taken seriously.

Toughness can get confused with rudeness or emotional suppression. But real toughness is different. It’s the capacity to stay aligned with your values when your emotions are pulling you in opposite directions.

Which question do you find you answer most days?

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I know there are days when it’s hard to feel hopeful. Those days when the work feels endless or futile. Days when giving up would be absolutely understandable. But those are the days, when you have to remember that hope is not something you feel. It is something you practice. It’s not believing that things will work out all the time but the belief that your work is worth doing even if they don’t.

It makes me think of miracles. I often think that miracles are happening all the time. We expect huge, dramatic, thunder clapping visuals, but miracles rarely look dramatic. They look like people not quitting, so someone’s life is saved from suicide in a café, some child gets a new home, some homeless woman gets a place to stay, not just tonight, but forever. Miracles look like organisations that hold it together through long seasons of pressure. They look like children fed, families supported, and lives changed slowly because enough people stayed when leaving would have been easier.

So here’s a question that I think matters.

What in your life depends on you staying, even when your emotions are telling you to leave?

And what happens if you decide that your commitment won’t be governed by how you happen to feel today?

Your commitment has to be stronger than your emotions, because the work that saves lives, shapes communities, and holds the world together is almost never about you.

Perhaps the real miracle is not that things sometimes go right, but that people continue to act as if their effort matters even when it costs them comfort, certainty, or praise.

And if that’s not hope I don’t know what is.

With Warmth,

Ellie

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Check out my books here Broken to Blooming and Ellievation

When I was little, I used to spend so much time inside the pages of Enid Blyton books. Those stories like The Enchanted Forest, The Wishing Chair, The Faraway Tree, oh my goodness, I was in another world, a world I wanted to occupy completely! I’d crawl beneath my blankets after it was lights out', with a secret torch in my hand, and read until I fell asleep. It wasn’t difficult back then, to believe in a magic chair that could fly me to other lands with fairies, and trees with elves and all sorts of happy lands with sweets and joy, just joy and happiness! I’m smiling now as I remember it filling me up inside, the pure excitement and adventures that I read about! Back then as I walked to my primary school in the early morning, I could look up at the clouds and be utterly convinced they had castles floating in them. Anything and everything seemed possible and real! Did it feel that way for you?

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Somewhere along the way, that childlike wonder began to slip through my fingers. Hope, I guess I managed to hang onto. Heaven knows how, yet, even through the rough stuff, hope is like that mate that lingers around at the edge of the party, always hanging around just long enough to be noticed.

And actually, I wonder, I really do, do any of us remember how to find wonder, once we’ve grown up?

I meet lots of adults who are more than willing to talk about hope. Hope is respectable. Hope is lifesaving. Hope is almost a cliché at times. But hope is something any ‘grown up’ is happy to discuss. You can speak about it at a dinner party or mention it on a hard day and no one will question you bringing it up.

But mention wonder? It sounds childish, almost embarrassingly naive, as if you’ve confessed to still leaving out mince pies for Father Christmas and a carrot or three for Rudolph, Dasher and Prancer!

And I’ve been musing on this lately. Is that what we lose as we get older? Do we lose our wonder? Or is it something some never really had to begin with?

There’s this really odd notion that hope and wonder are luxury feelings, reserved for cloudless skies, sunny days, good behaviour, and holidays. But I’ve begun to think that both of them, in fact especially wonder, are forged in the midst of something else. Not in chapters of ease, but in the press and the squeeze of real, proper difficulties. In fact, sometimes in absolute hell, if I’m being brutally honest.

You might have to bear with me here. I told you I’d been really ruminating on this. So, Olive Oil. I probably should be mentioning Popeye because that would make for a great example…..

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However, not for this illustration. I’m talking about the olive oil we use when we’re cooking. And I’m referring to the really good stuff. And the only way to get the good stuff is by crushing the olives first. Bone-crushing, relentless pressure. So many generations of Mediterranean farmers have known it. You lay out the olives. You press. You keep going until their skin splits and everything runs. And only then, finally, does the gold appear.

If you’ve ever tasted proper, expensive olive oil, the stuff that costs more than you’re comfortable confessing you’ve paid for, then you know. It’s beautiful, bright, grassy, surprising. It’s light that’s been made liquid. But the olive doesn’t give it up for free.

After traumatising grief, after a stabbing betrayal, after a shocking lifechanging diagnosis, after a big “What on earth do I do now?” Because once the packaging has disappeared and the shape of your life has been forced to change, you notice things that you would’ve previously walked right past. I’m not saying it’s always easy. But there’s nothing like heartbreak, or a crisis, to put a bit of gold in the veins.

Which is why, this wintery December, I’m trying something unusual for me.

I’m looking for wonder. Every. Single. Day.

Not in big, cinematic gestures, but in the little gaps between the stuff of life. A smile from a stranger in a queue when I buy them a coffee. The beautiful blue of an ice cold sky as I walk my dog. Even the way my cup of tea tastes when my hands are cold, and I always feel so grateful. Ordinary, magical things, that are always hiding in plain sight, and that I’m so grateful for. They are wondrous. And I will find so many more. There is wonder everywhere.

I don’t have all the answers, of course. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. Sometimes hope is a tiny beginning, and wonder can be a big bolt of lightning or absolutely nothing at all.

So I suppose my invitation to you in this Hope Note is this.

Try it.

Go looking for wonder, even if you feel a bit uncertain, a bit childish. But especially if you feel crushed. The world is no more or less enchanting and magical than it was when you were a child, hiding under the covers with a torch in your hand. The only difference is that you’ve learned to stop expecting the wonderful joys and miracles, tiny or seismic.

I can be defiant when it comes to hope and I’m being defiant when it comes to wonder too.

Both are available to you also, not after the storm passes, but during it. And please believe me, that on some days, the very best kind of oil will find its way to the top, just when you least expect it.

With Warmth,

Ellie

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For women aged 20 to 34 years in the UK, the leading cause of death isn’t cancer or a car accident. It’s suicide. That fact alone should stop many in their tracks. And I don’t just know this as a statistic. I know it because for years I was one of those young women. My twenties were rough, honestly. There were times when I wanted and tried to end it all, knowing things couldn’t get better, or so I thought. It took me until my thirties to get the help I so badly needed.

What really gets me is how people don’t seem to talk about young women and their struggle with suicide. They didn’t years ago, and unbelievably they still don’t. It’s a terrible thing that it’s THE leading cause of death for young women aged 20 to 34 years!

You’ll hear about men’s mental health (and so we should), maybe even older adults, but this age group? Barely even a mention.

Here’s what people aren’t saying. The numbers are getting worse. Suicides amongst this demographic have shot up by nearly a third in a decade. For girls and young women aged 10 to 24 years, the rate has almost doubled since 2012. I find this startling and terrifying. Don’t you? However, these aren’t just statistics. If you talk to women who have been through it you’ll find there’s a lot going on underneath the surface.

So, why are so many young women struggling? It’s a real mix of things. Depression, anxiety, trauma, abusive partners, alcohol and drugs, losing someone close, all sorts of things. But there’s one thing I see again and again, and that’s the pressure to pretend you’ve got it all together, even when you feel like you’re falling apart. When you ARE falling apart.

Honestly, if you’re not smashing it at work, posting perfect pics on Instagram, looking like an influencer, and living life like you’ve made it already, for these young women it’s easy to feel like you’re failing at life. Social media just piles it on. They scroll through and see everyone else’s “amazing” lives, and before they know it, they’re convinced they’re the odd one out. Many see these flawless lives but they aren’t real lives! And what’s really scary is loads of these young women are seeing stuff about self-harm and suicide within days of joining these social media sites or following new accounts that aren’t what they initially seemed. It’s frightening how quickly it can get inside vulnerable minds.

Then there’s university and work. Everyone acts like your twenties should be the best years ever. But no. For many of us, those years were full of stress, debt, and trying to keep our heads above water. One big study found almost a third of students had thought about suicide, and one in five had actually made a plan. That’s not just having a bad week. That’s a crisis.

I think the saddest part about this is that perfectionism doesn’t just make you miserable, it makes you keep things bottled up. And we need to talk about it. But many young people don’t want to be seen as needy or a burden. I know I definitely felt like that when I was younger. I now know that the worst thing I did was NOT speak out and ask for help. The worst thing I did was keep things bottled up. It made me more poorly.

And yet, even when young women DO ask for help, do everything right, ask for support, go to appointments, they still slip through the net, hiding it all behind smiles and hard work.

This year, for the second year running, the International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP) has chosen ‘Changing the Narrative on Suicide’ as the global theme for World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD). As a proud and honoured member of good standing of the IASP, EPiC HOPE the organisation I run, is committed to pushing this theme forward, not just globally, but right here in the UK, in our Borough of Wigan, and especially for young women aged 20 to 34.

We want to support this demographic to stop pretending, stop hiding, and actually listen to them, and help them listen to each other. Young women need to know they don’t have to be perfect to deserve help.

So here’s what I’m asking. If you work in the media, or local government, or you’ve got any kind of platform, please use it. Share the facts, tell the stories, and push for better support at uni, at work, online, everywhere. And if you’re a friend, a parent, a colleague, check in with the young women you know. Don’t just take, “I’m fine” at face value. Have a real chat. Sometimes just knowing someone genuinely cares makes all the difference.

And if you’re a young woman reading this, please don’t think you have to have it all sorted. Your twenties and early thirties aren’t a deadline. They’re one of the chapters in your life. They might even be a rubbish paragraph, and you could be about to get through this rubbish paragraph and step into a fantastic new chapter, so don’t make any permanent decisions because of something that you’re struggling with right now. Things DO change. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, I promise you. You can change direction as many times as you like. You don’t have to tick ALL the boxes. You’re NOT broken, and you’re definitely not on your own.

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I believe in hope. I really do. That’s why I started The Hope Notes, because I know things can get better. I hope we all do as much as we can for all the young women of this world because we owe it to them.

With Warmth and Hope,

Ellie X

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The sky reminds me of a bruise I once had tonight, purple pink and yellowy at the edges,

and the salt flats stretch out, stubborn and unashamed,

a metallic white ache of earth refusing to be hidden.

There’s a road, I hear a quiet hum, almost silence under the silence

where you can nearly hear

the stars rehearsing their return.

Somewhere, a comet is planning its entry.

A journey of ice cold, determined, intention.

And I want to believe it means something.

That this world is a place that keeps promises, and us,

whatever we break; their hearts, our vows, some bones,

might find their way

back to wholeness, just by being seen.

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My trainers crunch on the brittle crust.

Salt scabs onto my shin,

and I think about all the things that survive by being exposed.

Purple and yellow heather on windswept moors, battered

by gales.

Seagulls nesting on rocky islands, the only safe cover being their

own resolve.

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Years ago, I watched a meteor shower

as I drove with him in our soft top Jeep, the sky busy, urgent, reckless,

and I thought, for a minute, I could love someone forever.

But the truth is, I too, am always just passing through, 

bright for a second, then gone, leaving only a trace,

a streak of salt, a line of fire,

a journey I made because I had to.

Tonight the air is thick with longing,

and somewhere underneath, hope lifts her delicate head.

I stand in this white emptiness,

the comet now gone overhead, the world below,

and let the salt sting my tongue,

tasting the sharp, necessary ache of being here,

alive…

Watching the sky for whatever falls next.

Knowing, somehow, something waits to arrive.

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The Hope Notes is produced and written by me, Ellie Palma-Cass. I’m a writer, sometime poet, suicide prevention campaigner, author, and public speaker. But my favourite thing to be is a Hope Dealer!

Find out more about me and the work I do at my website and please say hello here :)

What if hope isn’t what saves you, but what hurts the most, and then one day, you realise you’re gently stitched back together?

Hope isn’t what you think it is. Hope, when your life has unravelled and you’re picking up the threads off the living room carpet, can be small and simple. It’s that cup of tea you make after sobbing on the floor, the first text you send when your hands are still shaking. It’s a question, not an answer. Like, “Could I try again?”

We like to believe hope is for the untouched, the unscarred. But the research tells us otherwise. In fact, it’s after the breaking that hope becomes something more than just a pretty word. In the aftermath of breakdown, people talk about hope as if it’s an animal they’re rearing and taming. Difficult, hard to coax, but unmistakably alive. You don’t need to believe in the future. You just need to believe there might be a future.

A breakdown isn’t the end. I’ve always felt like it’s a kind of clearing. A really necessary blaze that burns through anything that’s no longer needed, even if you didn’t ask for the fire.

Sometimes it can be a bit chaotic, undignified, and it’s never on our timetable! The world doesn’t pause for your unravelling. But in the following silence of your storm, hope creeps in, and it can feel like it’s almost apologising.

People in recovery describe it as a sense of possibility and it returns a lot sooner than the feeling of certainty does. I suppose it’s then that we have to have the willingness to sit with the unknown, to trust that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the last chapter in our story. It’s not loud, and guess what? It doesn’t need to be.

I’ve spoken to so many people about hope and many seem to think of it as a spiritual thing. I agree it is but it’s also biological. When we summon hope, when we let ourselves imagine a way through, our brain responds instantly. Dopamine floods, reward circuits light up, and our body steadies itself for another round. Hope isn’t just being optimistic.

Holding hope is a neurological act of rebellion in the face of despair.

The science of hope says it’s not just about seeing a way forward. It’s about believing you can take a step, even if you don’t know where it leads. And that’s the secret ingredient! Not waiting for someone to rescue you but daring to move in spite of the unknown.

Hope doesn’t have to be heroic. It just has to be honest. You only have to want to try. And trying is enough.

Breakthrough isn’t a lightning bolt. I’m sure there may be a case or two somewhere around the world where someone has just instantly recovered from their breakdown. But for many of us, it’s the slow, stubborn act of not giving up. Science calls it ‘pathways thinking.’ We should accept that there is more than one way to recover and more than one possible ending. Breakthrough is waking up and realising you’re not the same person who shattered. It’s feeling possibility again, even if it’s just a crack of light under the door.

You don’t need to be unbreakable. You need to be willing. That’s hope. That’s the beginning.

About Hope, Breakdown, and Breakthrough

Is hope actually necessary for recovery?
Yes. Research shows hope predicts recovery even more than symptom severity. It’s the basis for change and resilience.

What happens to your brain when you feel hope?
The areas of motivation and planning light up. Neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin boost your ability to persevere.

How do I know if I’m having a breakthrough after a breakdown?
You feel it. Breakthroughs feel like new possibility and you’ll feel a clarity, a sense that you might try again, even if you’re still afraid.

Can you learn to be more hopeful?
Hope is an actual skill! It grows with practice, goal setting, and kindness to yourself.

Ultimately, hope is less about the future and more about now. It’s what allows you to keep showing up, to keep trying, to keep being vulnerable enough to want something better. It isn’t always what we imagined, and it doesn’t always feel good. But it is real. And if you’re searching for hope in the midst of ruins, or you’re currently in the quiet, in the slow rebuilding, I hope you know that you’re not alone.

Subscribe if you want honest, research-backed writing about hope. This is your invitation to believe that hope is real, and you deserve it. Fancy a look below at this weeks Hope Stuff? :-)

Hope Spotting

On a quick trip last week our train was delayed (classic). Instead of the usual under the breath moans, someone started handing out homemade cornflake cakes from a tin. People actually started talking and eating them together. For a few minutes, a carriage full of strangers felt like old friends! Perfect proof that even on our ever increasingly late trains, hope shows up! Even in the form of a cornflake cake!

Hope Heroes ~ Malala Yousafzai

Malala Yousafzai is pure hope in action. After surviving a horrendous, life changing attack for standing up for girls’ education, she’s spent her life fighting for every child’s right to learn. She’s taken her story from a small town in Pakistan to the entire world, showing us that one brave voice really can ignite international change. Malala reminds me that hope isn’t just about wishing for something. She’s a wonderful example of doing it even when it’s scary.

Hope Through History ~ The Berlin Wall Falling in 1989
For nearly three decades, the Berlin Wall divided families and whole communities. When it finally came down, people flooded into the streets, hugging, singing, and chipping away at the wall together. It was a moment that showed hope and unity really can break down barriers.

Hope Playlist ~ Sunday Best by Surfaces

If you need a little pick-me-up, Sunday Best is the musical equivalent of sunshine pouring through your window. It’s about shaking off the bad days, letting the good vibes in, and remembering there’s always something bright around the corner. Pop it on your Spotify, dance about, and let yourself feel, well… your Sunday best even though it’s only Tuesday!

With Warmth,

Ellie X

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You know when you get butterflies in your tummy because you’re about to do something that really scares you? Or you’re actually wondering why on earth you signed up for something?! I don’t know, maybe you're standing at the start of the 3 Peaks and you’ve got your boots laced up tight but you’re thinking, “What the heck possessed me to do this?” Or maybe you're hovering outside a pottery class at the local Arts Centre that you've been stalking on social media for months, dreaming of making something arty. (Been there, by the way, and ended up with what looked like…… well, I won’t say!) But there is something a bit magical when you step out of your comfort zone.

Now, this is The Hope Notes and as you can imagine I've spent ages and ages chatting with people about hope. Where do they find it? How do they hold onto it when life goes a bit crazy or a lot darker? Well, let me tell you something ridiculously interesting! Adventure is the answer!

Adventure might just be our secret superpower for finding hope again if we’ve lost ours.

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And no, I'm not talking about scaling Everest in your lunch break (but if that's your thing, crack on!). I'm talking about tiny moments of bravery that make you feel proud, like you’ve achieved something.

It’s utterly fascinating when you research it scientifically. I discovered that when we do something that pushes us out of our comfort zone, our brains literally light up like a Christmas tree! How cool is that? It's like it’s having a little party, creating new neural pathways and possibilities. Adventurous experiences can help us regulate our emotions and build up our self-esteem. So if you think about the last time you did something that made you feel scared, or felt really adventurous to you, and you literally felt “Aaargh!!” it’s not just your nerves reacting, it’s your brain getting stronger! Our brain, and what it’s capable of, always blows my mind.

What’s unfortunate is that some of us have grown up and been taught that the world is such a scary place that we might be petrified of adventure. But you don’t need to watch other people being the adventurers. It’s not just for others, like adrenaline junkies or professional explorers. You don't need to be Bear Grylls to get involved in scary stuff. It’s been proven that even tiny little adventurous experiences can improve our mood and lift our spirits, even improve our memory! I love a micro-adventure! I think I have one every day! Some days, my version of adventure is trying a new flavour of tea (wild, I know!) or getting in my car and driving a different way somewhere. (Trust me, that IS an adventure to me as I have no sense of direction. I once set off to Doncaster and ended up in Durham!) Another time, I might sign up for a language class, whilst I plan the route to the actual country one day. (I could always use Google maps!) Ultimately, it all counts.

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Your adventure might be:

• Walking to work instead of catching the bus (extra points if it's raining!)

• Finally trying that weird looking fruit in Tesco

• Saying hello to that person you always see in Costa Coffee

• Learning the ukulele (apparently easier than the guitar)

• Going to the flicks alone (it’s ace having all the goodies to yourself!)

But I do want to be serious for a minute. Sometimes, when we're struggling with our mental health (and I've been there plenty of times), even getting out of bed feels like climbing Kilimanjaro. And that's ok. In fact, it’s more than ok, actually. It could feel like an adventure having to open the curtains or even making your bed. But start there. Be gentle with yourself. And if you manage to do that, you’re an absolute star.

So, I really wanted to find out if, and how, adventure could build hope. Well, it definitely does. In fact, whatever size the adventures are that we pursue, we are training our hope muscles! I love that! It’s like putting goal setting into action. When we plan the adventure, whatever it is, we set the goal then create the pathway to achieve it. And that’s exactly how hope works on a psychological level. We’re finding a way to make our adventure happen, and every time we’ve finished it, or achieved it, or completed it, we’ve gathered the evidence we need to prove to ourselves how capable we are. Wow! It gets even better though. Research has shown that this evidence increases our ability to handle future challenges plus change our perspectives on problems. Because bigger adventures can make everyday problems seem smaller. I suppose if you’ve just climbed a mountain (whether literally or metaphorically!) dealing with a work presentation doesn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

I’ve spoken to lots of people about where they find hope and sometimes I’m blown away by their answers. A lady battling depression found hope when she started cold water swimming. A man grieving the loss of his wife found hope when he joined a woodwork class. A teenager struggling with terrible anxiety found hope in a new rock climbing hobby. Studies have shown that adventure based experiences can be extremely effective in addressing mental health struggles such as anxiety, depression, and PTSD. All of this makes such unbelievable sense to me as whenever I have planned an adventure, or not planned something even, but set off on a whim to do something a bit scary, it’s always had such a positive impact on my mood.

I suppose it’s not the size of the adventure, or what it is; it’s what the adventure is to you.

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Over the last few months I decided to make adventure part of my life. I felt that it was a key aspect of hopeful living for me. I decided to make an Adventure Spider Map. Maybe you could too.

1. Start small Ellie, start where you are. (You can use my name too, if you’re called Ellie!)
   I knew that I shouldn’t be comparing my Chapter 1 to someone else’s Chapter 20 so I took my time. The best adventures are the ones you’ll actually do! And your micro adventure matters 😊

2. Follow your curious mind
   What makes your eyes light up? What are you always wondering about? Gosh, all sorts! And that's your adventure compass, right there!

3. Keep a journal of adventures
   Keep a Hope Journal 😊 Get yourself a lovely notebook (any excuse for new stationery) and write down your micro adventures and your massive adventures. On bad days, it'll remind you that you’re a warrior!

4. Find your real adventure mates
   These are the real mates who'll set off anywhere with you with a rucksack or go to that weird art exhibition where neither of you have a clue what's happening.

Before you finish this weeks Hope Note and carry on with your day, I wondered if you might do something for me. Choose one tiny adventure for this week. Something that makes you slightly nervous but also a bit excited. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as it’s an adventure to you. As long as it makes you feel hopeful. About you.

I really am passionate about hope. In fact, I’m the UK’s No.1 Hope Dealer! And I absolutely know that hope isn't some silly concept that’s just written about in self-help books. It's in the little moments of courage we bravely take; in the tiny adventures we choose every day. It's in trying something new and proving to ourselves we're braver than we ever thought.

Your adventure is waiting, and it's going to be beautiful.

Every week I’ll be sharing the below to bring you some hope. Join in if you like 😊

HOPE SPOTTING

In my local library this week I saw a little boy trying to explain really nervously to the librarian about some pages that had been lost from the book he’d borrowed. Who knows how, but he looked very concerned. The lovely librarian helped him get another book and she said, “Books and boys are meant to be loved.” He had a big smile on his face as he left. It felt like hope was restored 😊 Where have you spotted some hope lately?

HOPE THROUGH HISTORY

I find this so moving, especially as this week in the UK we have been celebrating VE Day. Right before the war thousands of children fled the danger in Europe on something called the Kindertransport. Many ordinary British families with not much money to spare opened their doors and their hearts to these children who had had to leave their own families behind. How heartbreaking, but how wonderful that these people did this. These children were now safe. It goes to show that even when the world is in chaos, compassion can win. This is hope. Have you ever heard a story from history that fills you with hope?

HOPE HEROES

For me, someone who sticks in my mind as an utter hero from a few years ago is Marcus Rashford, a British football star who is the epitome of spreading hope. When lockdown hit and children across the UK were going hungry, he spoke up and made sure free school meals stayed on the table. A true example of using your voice to make good change and to provide hope! Who’s your Hope Hero?

HOPE PLAYLIST

Dog Days Are Over by Florence & The Machine. This song is pure hope in song form! It’s all about leaving hard times behind and running straight for hope. I play it loud when I need a boost! Brighter days are always on the way 😊 Let me know what songs fill you with hope.

With hope and love,

Ellie X

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See if you can imagine this.

Last week I found myself sitting in a library flicking through some books I really want to read and realising that I just don’t have the time, but something caught my eye and suddenly I had one of those lightbulb moments.

A bit of mindblowing information en route to you now! Hope, my favourite subject, is a scientifically backed ‘thing,’ ‘feeling,’ ‘emotion,’ that you’ll soon discover is about to disrupt how we think about everything, from healthcare to education. And if there's one thing I've learned from building EPiC HOPE, my non-profit, from the ground up, it's that disruption always starts with questioning the status quo.

To give you some context, some of Britain's top universities are treating hope the same way we all treated sustainability a few years ago, as the next big thing that's going to reshape whole industries! And just like how we proved the skeptics wrong about renting designer outfits, these researchers are proving everyone wrong about hope!

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Obviously, I’m interested!

The data is mind-blowing! Cambridge's Hughes College is running something called the HOPE Study, and they’re tracking how hope literally changes educational outcomes. How cool is that? Because I would have thought that was unmeasurable. And York University is doing the same with a Health Of Populations and Ecosystems project. I love this! It’s almost like it isn’t just research but it's a revolution in how we gain further understanding of our human potential.

What I’ve found fascinating, and I think it might be for anyone else who is building something from scratch, is there’s some serious evidence showing hope isn't just a nice feeling to home in on if you’re in mental health recovery. No, it's actually as essential as the treatment itself. As someone who's built a business from scratch, this really resonates. All those days when you keep going just because you believe it's possible and nothing is going to stop you. It’s not just determination. It’s hope doing its scientific job!

The National Institute for Health Research has proven that hope-based interventions literally save lives in suicide prevention and as my whole business model is suicide prevention, my whole life calling even, this made me happy and like, see, this is what I’ve been saying for years! If that doesn't make you sit up and pay attention, I don't know what will.

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When your brain experiences hope, it releases a chemical cocktail and these chemicals don't just make you feel good, they literally and physically accelerate healing, they boost your resilience, and they improve your performance, whatever you’re doing! It's like having a built-in performance enhancement system in your brain.

Think about what this could mean for you personally. Whether you're building a business or non-profit, leading a team, or trying to change your little corner of the world, understanding that hope is a science-backed tool changes everything! At Oxford, they have a Wellbeing Research Centre and they are hoping to measure hope alongside GDP. Oh my goodness, can you imagine hope being used as an economic indicator! Forget evolution. It's revolution!

And science shows that hope spreads through communities like wildfire. Did you know that if just one person is holding onto hope in a tough situation it can boost everyone else’s resilience. That’s exactly what I've seen in our Harbours, our suicide prevention crisis care spaces. One success story catalyses an entire group of people, and your team too!

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You might not be as obsessed with hope as I am but think about it. If Oxford, Cambridge, and the NHS are all saying hope is legitimate science, maybe it's time to for you to rethink your relationship with hope.

I'm not suggesting we all start doing trust falls or writing manifestos (but if you want to, go for it! I have actually written one!). But I am suggesting that understanding hope as a scientifically proven force for change might be the most powerful tool that you didn’t know you could have.

The bottom line is, hope isn't just feeling good about the future, it's actively creating it. And if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that the future belongs to those who dare to hope for something better.

I dared. How about you?

With Warmth,

Ellie

P.S. If you found this valuable, please share and subscribe. I’m ‘hoping’ to build a whole community here!

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Also, of all the things I could write about, there's one subject that I’ve researched and studied for a long time now and that is hope. I firmly believe that hope matters more than anything else right now. In this world, in our communities, in our own hearts and minds.

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I can just imagine some of my American subscribers thinking, hang on, she’s a Brit, surely writing about hope will be as uncomfortable as making eye contact on the Tube!

But no! Our world is massively short of hope, and I've become a bit obsessed with understanding why that is, and more importantly, what we can do about it. That's what The Hope Notes will be all about.

So this a fresh start. For me. And ‘hope’fully you, if you’ll please subscribe. I plan on The Hope Notes being a place where we'll explore everything we possibly can about hope, through the things I’ve discovered in science, in culture, in faith, and best of all, some powerful human stories. Some of Britain’s top minds are discovering the most fascinating stuff and I want to know more and more about it.

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So, welcome to The Hope Notes. Pour yourself a cuppa, get cosy and comfy, and my next post will share something very interesting I learned while poking around Oxford's research departments...

With hope and love,

Ellie

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