Tonight, Mr. Hammond, my tears are for you.

In a world in which discussion of mental illness is still, essentially, taboo, yesterday's interview with Richard Hammond stands out as a brutally stark description of the pain many people suffer. While the overt cause of the Hamster's symptoms were physical, it was obvious, given a minute's thought, that there would be much psychological trauma associated with them. And for once, in his interview, we have been allowed to see a glimpse deep into the mind of another human being.

Now, not being medically qualified, I'm not entitled to make any comment on Richard's condition. But Richard describes himself as being broken, and this is a feeling shared by a surprisingly high proportion of the population at some time or other. And, in general, they feel isolated from our society at the very time they require help and support.

With no underlying, physical cause for their feelings of confusion, mental pain and depression, these people – and here I must be honest and include myself – find it hard to reach out for help and solace. Our society tells us these feelings must be endured behind closed doors. They are not to be talked about in case they might be “infectious”. We “know” that other people cannot understand what we are going through.

And this is what makes the Hamster's interview so amazing. Here, in black and white, is a personal description of not only the physical suffering but the mental anguish of another human being. I would hesitate to say it takes you to the deepest depths, but for anyone who has shared similar feelings for whatever reason, it provides a beacon. It tells the truth and informs the world that we are not scary and frighting, merely hurt and confused.

So tonight, Mr. Hammond, as I sit here, broken, my tears are for you.