The specially trained staff have brought her back from the verge of suicide on several occasions.The mentally ill are given many labels. The label psychiatrists give to Elizabeth is "reactive depressive", an inadequate term for an unpredictable illness which can blight her life for months on end and leave her housebound. Even the simplest tasks such as washing become an ordeal."There is this conflict in my brain because I feel isolated and don't want to go out, but part of me wants to get away, to leave everything behind," she says. "I won't bother to put make-up on and can't see the point of carrying on. It's like my brain is shutting down and everything is bleak and black. If I could choose between mental or physical pain I would choose the latter because at least you know there will be an end to it."Her depression has been accompanied by a catalogue of personal tragedies so bleak that Elizabeth struggles to articulate them. Both her father and son committed suicide as well as two of her nine siblings; she had to undergo two terminations for medical reasons; and also suffered post-natal depression after the birth of her daughter.

Her father died aged 58 in 1970, after a long history of depression which overshadowed Elizabeth's childhood and made him incapable of showing her the affection she craved. His death precipitated her own breakdown but she felt unable to seek professional help and was hindered by the social stigma attached to mental illness."My mother dealt with his death by reinventing the past," says Elizabeth, who is 53. "There was so much shame attached that she'd just say that he'd died if anyone asked, and got cross when she discovered I had told my husband the truth."Her son, Andrew, was 21 when he hanged himself after several previous attempts to take his own life. Devastated by his loss and tormented by a sense of guilt, she "went to pieces". Doctors sent her to a hospital psychiatric ward, where she first learnt of SANELINE when she saw its number on a noticeboard."I thought there could be someone who would listen to me, someone to share the burden who was not part of my family, so I wrote the number in my diary," says Elizabeth, who has two grandchildren. "I had called the Samaritans in the past but this was a group dealing specifically with mental health problems."The reality is that doctors and counsellors often do not have the time to provide the advice and reassurance that people such as Elizabeth need. Over time she has established a relationship with the volunteers who staff the helpline, set up 10 years ago as the first out-of-hours mental health helpline.This relationship goes beyond offering a sympathetic ear and advice to distraught callers.

Volunteers, whose training is endorsed by the Royal College of Psychiatrists, also provide a follow-up service, "Caller Care". This involves ringing people such as Elizabeth at specific times when they are likely to be alone and distressed.Both her father and son died in January and this is the time of year Elizabeth dreads most. Talking to experts from Caller Care makes the difference between recovering in hospital from an overdose or spending time with her family."You're always supposed to be happy at Christmas and New Year but I am always reminded of my son," she says. "The helpline has become part of my support network and is even more important this time of year."In Elizabeth's opinion, picking up the phone and talking to trained counsellors is a more effective therapy than anti-depressants or shock therapy, both of which she has tried without lasting success."It's so much more beneficial talking to people," she says "I would say to anyone 'You deserve the help'. If I had a friend in that position I would not think twice about recommending the helpline."Elizabeth has also managed to salvage a positive outcome from her traumatic experiences. She has trained as a volunteer counsellor herself, offering others salvation from the misery of mental illness through a local bereavement service. She urges people to give money to support SANELINE, or to become personally involved, because she knows that talking her way out of her blackest moods has literally saved her life."People need to know it's all right to ask for help," she says.