 I have my own personal step, which is great. I'm going to just shove it over a bit. Brilliant. Otherwise, there'd just be a head. I'd like to start by asking how many of you have experienced a mental health issue in your life? Put your hand up. Lots of hands. Keep your hand up if you found it difficult to talk about it. Again, lots of people. Thank you. Over the last year, around one in four people in our country struggle with a mental health problem. That's almost a quarter of the people in the room, which is roughly the number of people that put their hands up. In any given week, one in six of us reports experiencing a common mental health problem, like anxiety or depression. If you're a man aged between 20 and 49, the most common cause of death for your age group is suicide, which is deeply shocking. Worldwide, around 800,000 people die by suicide every year. That's one person every 40 seconds. Globally, suicide is the leading cause of death amongst 15 to 29-year-olds. Mental ill health costs the UK economy 99 billion a year, and it's responsible for 91 million working days lost a year. That's more than for any other illness. All these worrying statistics are framed by the fact that only 40% of people with diagnosed mental illness received any treatment or access, any help at all. This is the context within which mental health first aid, the organisation I led for 10 years, was framed. We wanted to change attitudes to mental health, to remove the negative association surrounding it, to lose the stigma. We wanted to make it easier for people to talk about their difficult feelings and thoughts without fear of the consequences. We're used to having physical first aiders in the workplace, colleagues trained to help us with the physical injury. Our aim was to have mental health first aiders working alongside them. People trained to recognise signs of mental distress in others. People who know how to confidently approach someone and start a conversation. People who know how to listen non-judgmentally and who can help those in turmoil find the support they need. If we could get this right, we believed that the world would be a better place. In my 10 years of being a mental health first aider, I've used my skills to support hundreds of people, including myself and my family. I don't know how many of those conversations were life-saving, but I'm sure that every conversation moved that person one step closer to recovery from a place of shame to a place of hope. And I'd like to share with you what hope means to me. I'm second generation British Bangladeshi. My grandad came to Portsmouth in 1959, having served in the merchant navy for 20 years. At the tender age of 12, my dad joined him. They worked hard to provide food, shelter and education for the family back home. As a result, my dad lost his childhood, and a few years ago he passed away at the age of 64, robbed of his old age too. He was part of a generation of lonely young men who sacrificed everything to create a better future for their families. I was born in Bangladesh in a house made of mud and straw. It was small and crowded. We had no electricity, no sanitation or running water. My grandad migran myriad chickens to buy her first bit of and sold eggs to buy her first bit of Paddyfield to grow rice in. My mum was just 14 when she married my dad on one of his rare visits to Bangladesh. She was 15 when I was born and my dad was back in England. We joined him in Portsmouth two years later. So here you have a young couple without role models or the support of an extended family doing their best to beat poverty, raise children and have a sense of identity in an environment where nothing feels familiar, especially the language. You can understand why preserving their values, culture through food, religion, language, marriage customs and gender roles was so important to them. They struggle, they adapt and they find a place in their migrated life that sort of works for them. And then I, the eldest of three, hit my dreaded teens. I was an intelligent, ambitious, bollywood loving, dance loving, religion hopping, contradiction filled, no at all teenager, trouble and extremely troubled. The constants in my life were some my school routine and some unforgettable teachers who made a lasting impression on me. Some were racist, motivating the activist in me, but others opened up my world, inspired me, helped me dream and led me to believe that anything was possible. I became skilled at managing multiple parallel lives. I was head girl and I bunked school. I was a grey day maths and science student with ambitions of becoming an electronics engineer, yet I knew I'd be lucky if I was allowed to go to college at all. I was my mother's main support yet I was self harming. As a parent now I know I was every parent's nightmare. So eventually my risk taken behaviour got so bad that my parents decided it was time I was married. So at 17 I was made to marry someone six years older than me, who I met for the second time on the day of our wedding in a country I didn't recognise as home. A couple of years later I became a mum and also got my first diagnosis of depression. I wanted to be a good parent and I wanted to die. Life was very dark for a while. I got really ill and scared that I might lose my child to poor parenting so I left my marriage I couldn't afford to be ill. I was a single parent and I was driven by my need to be a good mother. I knew I had to achieve financial freedom. Poverty as a single parent was not an option either. Like my dad I too lost my childhood to work, parenting and mental illness. I often wonder what difference a few good quality conversations would have made in my childhood. Conversations like the ones mental health first aiders are skilled at and my parents could have been helped by them too. I believe mental health first aid is a success because it's built on thousands of stories like mine. And it's really important that our stories are heard. It's not about the particular things that happen to me. It's about the fact that I experience depression, anxiety in response to them, which is a common part of human experience. I also wonder where I'd be now without the support I'd got when I needed it most. Those small acts of kindness that made all the difference to me. The health visitor who noticed that behind my mask of coping with young motherhood I was falling apart. She took me away from the bustle of the busy health centre waiting room. She encouraged me to look closely at the healthy happy baby I'd bought into the world. She assured me my daughter was fine and then gently asked me how I was. I broke down in tears and she cared enough to take action. She went against the grain of normal practice and found a doctor to come and see me straight away. An act of professional kindness that set me on my road to recovery. On another occasion I found myself wandering along a deserted windswept beach thinking of ways to put an end to my emotional pain. Lost in thought I tripped and fell. I wasn't particularly hurt but I was upset. I thought I was alone but out of nowhere a stranger appeared. He approached me carefully, respectfully with open hands. As if to make it plain I had nothing to fear. I wasn't afraid. He asked me a simple question. Are you okay? I noticed you fell over and you're crying. I told him I think my life is over. What I said startled me. I sat down on the stony beach and he sat down beside me. Neither of us said a word. We didn't even look at each other. We just sat there watching the waves. I felt supported held by his compassion. After a while I got to my feet, thanked him and went home. I never found out who he was or saw him again. But I'll never forget how his simple act of kindness made me feel. The most important part of my work is encouraging people to look carefully, to notice. Without the simple act of noticing we can't begin to reach out or give support. The people who helped me may have been doing their job well. Or being their authentic compassionate selves. But the impact their simple acts of kindness had on me was life changing and life saving. Thanks to them I stand before you today as a leader in the mental health sector. It's a reminder that who we are and what we go on to achieve is built on a bedrock of support from those who we come across in life. Family, friends, teachers, colleagues, coaches, mentors, health workers, kind strangers, simply too many people to mention. In the words of the old saying it takes a village to raise a child. And I'm proud to say that mental health first aiders make a vital and positive contribution to the many villages that make up our world. We teach others to notice when someone is in distress and encourage them to reach out, listen and offer support. We should never underestimate the life changing potential of such simple acts of kindness. Sometimes I wish I could go back and thank all those people who changed my life for the better. But then I remind myself that the work I do now is paying it forward which is the best possible way of honouring them. Work played a vital part in my recovery from poor mental health. Even though I was ill my intuition told me I needed routine and purpose. So when my daughter was just three weeks old I went for an interview and got the job. It was a part time role at the Citizens Advice Bureau which paid less than being on benefits at the time. But it gave me what I needed to kickstart my life. Soon I was working for adult mental health services in a community team. We set up and run services for people coming out of hospital care. My team helped them gain confidence with everyday things like shopping, cooking and paying bills. Around this time my manager Fiona suggested I joined a leadership and career development program. I didn't think I was up to it. After all I was just a school leaver with mental illness. I was doing well managing a small team in the community on a basic salary. Who was I to think I could be anything more. I was paralysed by the imposter syndrome. A persistent voice inside my head telling me it was only a matter of time before I got found out. But Fiona knew what I needed. Looking back I realised Fiona saw something in me that I was unaware of. I could hardly believe it when I got a place on that program. A program that was to profoundly change the direction of my career and my life. I found myself in a room full of people that looked like me. We talked about the way race and gender discrimination had affected us. We shared how we saw the world and our place in it. For the first time ever I understood how being an Asian woman in the UK had affected my mental health. The journey of self-discovery was both disturbing and strengthening. I felt like my new roots had been nourished and nurtured. I stepped into my identity as a British Bangladeshi woman. Until then I'd always felt like a visitor because my parents had raised me as one. A common narrative in migrant communities. The leadership program also gave me the chance to develop a personal vision. A vision of a world where mental health is no longer seen as the poor relative to physical health. I wanted to raise my mental health awareness through education on a global scale. Seven years later that vision started to take shape when mental health first aid England was born. Just as my recovery from mental ill health wouldn't have been possible without those simple acts of kindness from others. My vision would never have seen the light of day without mentors to guide me. Fiona was one but I'd like to tell you about two more. First, Sheila. She was the chief executive of Portsmouth Mental Health Trust where I worked. She was a role model for me. Somehow she managed to combine being a successful chief executive alongside a nurturing of family. She was a busy woman but despite the demands of her job she made time for me and encouraged me to apply for a job I thought was beyond me. I was fuelled by her belief in my ability and skills. She talked to me to take risks and worry less about failure. To my amazement I got the job. At the Department of Health surrounded by exceptional people I started to find my professional voice. I was the lead on three national mental health programs. Then there was Richard, my new boss, another person who took the time to mentor me. One day Richard asked me about my career plans. I told him I felt like an imposter surrounded by academics and doctors. He agreed my CV needed work as it didn't reflect my skills and experiences. He said fine, if you feel like an imposter let's get you a qualification. So I enrolled on an MBA which thanks to Richard the department paid for. Richard has had a profound influence on the way I manage others. He taught me that leadership is about developing people for life. Not just the role jobs they're in now. It's about helping people realise their potential. Helping them be the best that they can be. It's about taking a chance. I learnt a lot on that MBA course but was puzzled by something. Why was business success only measured in terms of money? I couldn't understand why we were not being taught social value. Why the bottom line only spoke about profit. Why leadership barely touched on purpose. In 2009 I got my chance to create an organisation that challenged that and received wisdom. Mental health first aid England a community interest company was born. A community interest company operates like any other business. It generates profit or surplus as we like to call it. That surplus is reinvested back into the community interest. Which in our case is to increase mental health literacy. Back in 2009 we were optimistic and idealistic. Little did we realise what we'd let ourselves in for. In year one we made a loss which was not surprising. However in year two we made an even bigger loss. I lost sleep and weight worrying about it. But since those early days our business has gone from strength to strength. Today the London office is home to a team of around 65 full time professionals, 45 national trainers, 120 associates, 2,000 instructors and a community of 350,000 mental health first aiders in England. There are almost 3 million mental health first aiders globally. We've trained people from all walks of life. Some of whom are quite well known. Government ministers like Norman Lam, Jeremy Hunt, Sadiq Khan and the Mayor of London, Prince Harry while he was serving in the armed forces and last year I was invited to Downing Street to brief the Prime Minister and her cabinet on World Mental Health Day. Corporates like W.H. Smith, Ford, Sky, BBC, Unilever, The Welcome Trust, Civil Service, Deloitte's, Goldman's are amongst hundreds of other businesses rolling out mental health first aid training. They recognise that if they want to attract, retain and grow talent they need to create healthier workplaces. And we've taken an active role in the wider world too. We've helped develop mental health programmes in Bangladesh, Tanzania and Uganda. My own struggles with mental ill health gifted me insight. My community development routes gave me my moral compass. The leadership programme gave me the opportunity to think about my vision for the first time in my life. The MBA taught me business acumen. They all came together to give me the knowledge, confidence and energy to lead mental health first aid England. For us making a profit always came second. We regarded it as necessary but not sufficient measure of business success. In 2016 we were recognised as the ninth fastest growing women led small business in the UK. In 2017 according to the FT we were one of Europe's fastest growing companies. This year as I left my role as the CEO of mental health first aid England we closed our accounts at £5.7 million revenue and £800,000 profit. But as I reflect on the journey so far, the thing I keep coming back to is the kindness of others who helped me along the way. Without the people who encouraged me, believed in me, took a chance in me and backed me, I'm convinced I wouldn't be standing here before you today sharing my story. So take a moment to think about the people in your world. Who could benefit from your support and encouragement? Sometimes it's just a kind word. Sometimes it's about giving your attention and time. Running an ethical business is about looking out for each other. It's about making sure we put more into society than we take out. It's about creating a business with heart, which is also a great place to work. Work doesn't just provide us with money. It gives us our life meaning and purpose. It can make us and those around us happy. It can be good for our mental health. The ancient Greeks had a word for it, eudaimonia, which means both human flourishing and prosperity. My experience, human flourishing, is not only compatible with business prosperity. It's essential to it. Thank you.