My mom became depressed in 2008 and killed herself two years later. Here's a letter she wrote during her depression, addressed to the council's housing department. I don't know if she ever sent it.

Please can you help me, I am an ordinary mum whose life has been totally turned upside down because of a sudden onslaught of mental illness and now I am on the verge of suicide.

Myself and husband with four children have lived in a small rundown three bed council property in a rough area for twenty years now. The kitchen’s eight foot square, but it has the stairs door off it, the toilet/bathroom off it and also the back door. There is no room for a kitchen door as it would hit the cooker or you would not get in the fridge.

Myself and husband sleep in the box room, this has a double bed and one wardrobe. My husband is a teacher I wish he could have more room to hang his shirts.

My two lads, aged 21 and 16, share a bunkbed and one wardrobe. They are nearly men and I hate that they are in the same beds as when they were children. There is no room to put them separate. My youngest has Asperger’s syndrome, he needs little sleep and subsequently disturbs his older brother. Also, when he eventually sleeps he is awoken by his brother turning over. Also, being in the lower bunk makes his asthma worse.

Mornings are terrible, we queue in the tiny kitchen to use the bathroom, to get ready for work and college, my son with Asperger’s emerges half naked as he has no thought to how he appears to others. My 21 year old lad also has autistic tendencies. It is likely that my sons will live with us into adult life.

Then one day, out of the blue in November, we were offered a 5 bedroom brand new house from Waterloo housing association in a newly revived area not too far away. We were told we had to move in quick as it might get vandalised, so my husband and some friends hired a van and set out to move all our belongings over the weekend.

From that moment on, I was in total shock, I felt paralysed and couldn’t function. That evening, and every one after, I had nightmares and constantly felt severe pains all over from anxiety and heart palpitations. I’ve no idea why this was happening. I could not eat and subsequently I am now 7 and half stone. My hair was falling out and I walked aimlessly round the shops not wanting to go back to the property. I was hitting myself and crying all the time. Spending whole days sitting in the kitchen cupboard unable to cope.

Yet it was the most perfect house for everyone, a bedroom each, two showers and two toilets a hall way, a lounge and front room too, own place to park. Even state of the art heating and condensation control. They even gift-aided a shed for our use. My son would have been able to put up all the art posters he loves, particularly Van Gogh and he could have had wall-to-wall book shelves as he has hundreds of books.

But despite getting Diazepam from the GP and the promise of some cognitive behaviour therapy (which came through for Feb which was too late), after one month, the last day of having the keys, my husband thought I was so ill and all he wanted was his wife back, so he moved us back to our original address. Big mistake, as I did not get better, and the severe anxiety has turned to immense grief, guilt and sadness.

We had waited 18 years for this and I cannot express the devastation I feel now for what I have done.  I was fine before all of this, and then suddenly struck by mental illness. My lads are back in bunkbeds and they have no privacy, My daughters share a tiny room. The fridge freezer is about to break but they don’t sell small ones that will fit under the stair space anymore. It would be brilliant to be able to have a larger one to store food for six.

The shoes grow mould due to the condensation in the porch. The roof is leaking, the ceilings are stained. Stray cats try to get into the house as soon as I open the door. There is a constant humming noise coming from the kitchen heater/transformer, which aggravates people with autism. The house is only ten strides in through the front door then you are at the back door, passing the cooker on the left and two strides passed that, the loo!

I don’t know how we have lived here so long, the only saving grace was we enjoyed making the garden nice, with baskets and chimney pots etc but I have lost all heart in it now. Everyone was looking forward to having friends round or to have friends stay like normal people, or to even stand in the kitchen for a chat. The kitchen at the new house was four times the size.

I contemplated suicide two weeks ago, the thought overwhelmed me. My daughter had noticed I had googled it on the computer. I was almost sectioned and was going to be put in a hospital, but now I get daily visits from a nurse who brings me some tablets and asks how is my mood. Tablets are not the answer, I do not want to be dependant on Sertraline and Lorazipam all my life. Although they have not had any effect yet.

I’ve asked the council can we be considered again for a move but they said we would have to apply all over again. They have not responded to the letters I have sent in from my GP, etc. I don’t think we should be penalised for my having a mental breakdown.

My husband became a teacher as a mature student and we could not afford to buy the size house that we need to live in. I could bang my head against a wall when I think about what we would have had. I am thinking of the different life it would have given us, especially for my children.

My younger lad would have had somewhere to read in peace or work at his A levels at his own desk in his own room, he really deserves this little luxury for what he has been put through. My 21 year old son was going to make use of the large kitchen and equipped himself with recipe books at Christmas time and he bought several spice jars, this tiny kitchen has no room for out of the ordinary ingredients. My daughters were having real sized beds and own wardrobes.

You would not believe that vast difference between the two houses - each at the other end of the spectrum. I am in shock every day as I recall what has happened, I wake up thinking about it, and now someone else has it. Social housing is in high demand and that was our once in a life time chance, I hate myself and I am trying to think what I can do to make it right.

This area is rough, there are people who mend the cars on the pavement opposite and there is always a truck with a crane on it parked about 20 metres from the front window. My daughter takes off her glasses as she nears the grove as sometimes she is ridiculed by a gang of youths. Yes, I knew all this but I felt so ill with severe anxiety and Id tried to get help from the doctor’s, but it was all about waiting lists. I thought I would only ever feel well again returning home.

Please can you help us in some way, this is not something I would normally do, I am so desperate. I have enclosed a dr’s letter she has given me for the housing dept although they have not even acknowledged it. You could come to visit me at any time to verify what I have told you.

From Mrs Christine Pietrzak