Caroline Wharram, former Big Brother star, was mentally fragile and should not have been allowed to perform

Any suicide is a tragedy, so the two deaths related to the reality show Love Island should shock me. But the terrible truth is: I'm not at all surprised.

It's been seven years since I participated in the Channel 5 Big Brother Series 13 and since then I've become more and more convinced that the type of person who wants to be part of a TV production team is particularly vulnerable.

I know a lot of people who have been on shows like this, and they all have a horrible story to tell.

They became alcoholics, took drugs, fainted with depression or anxiety, developed eating disorders, or became obsessed with seeking attention on social networks.

Of course, these trends existed before – the problems were not created by the program designers, but they were certainly aggravated.

The toxic nature of reality TV, the manipulation of producers who are little more than puppeteers and the instant effect of fame can have a devastating effect.

It's a world of self-obsession driven by insecurity – and I should know it. That happened to me

I was an anxious, lonely and sad girl, suffering from a disabling eating disorder and having a family history of mental health problems when, at the age of 19, I applied to join Big Brother 2012.

What then happened could and should have been predicted.

I collapsed in front of the nation, showing more and more erratic behavior. Then, atrociously, I was called racist after qualifying a gorilla competitor.

The next four years were among the worst of my life as I struggled to rebuild my broken world.

The way I spent the psychological badessments to participate in the series continues to baffle me. I should never have been allowed. And yet, I was staggering. I can only conclude that the producers are not interested in it as much as I am entertaining.

I have wonderful parents who support me and who enjoy an education that most people would call a privilege, including a place in a private boarding school in Surrey.

Since the age of nine, however, I had suffered from chronic anxiety.

I am quite academic and I had the ambition to be a writer. I had dropped out of university after six weeks of no-show at a single conference.

Instead, I spent the time in the comfort of my student room, alone, eating quantities of food while crying and obsessively weighing myself. I was an anxious and paranoid disorder.

None of my peers suspected anything. When they saw me, I breathed confidence and charisma. I was so good at hiding my misery that when, in January 2012, Big Brother auditioned for a new series, another student told me I would be perfect because I was so wild and so much fun. I'm running out of time.

Today, it seems incomprehensible, but I sincerely believed that my presence on television would solve all my problems. I thought it would open the door to a world of celebrity, boy, popularity and glory parties – things I coveted.

Most importantly, I could prove to everyone, including myself, that I was the carefree party girl that I had always wanted to be. It was as if my happiness depended on this show.

I lined up for hours at Wembley Stadium, where auditions took place amidst thousands of hopes. And I was pleased to find that the producers wanted to talk to me, zoning my "chic" accent. In fact, it was all that interested them.

A few months later, after several interviews, I was summoned for a psychological badessment.

Yet, in my opinion, program officials were not very interested in badessing my mental abilities. For example, they failed to ask me a single question about mental health issues that I could have.

They did not ask me if I was coming out of college, why I wanted to go on TV or what I thought it would provide for me.

Would I have been honest if they had asked for these things? Would I have compromised my chances of appearing in the series? Probably not. But for me, it's amazing that even the basics have been ignored.

"You have thick skin," it was said. "You do not care what people think." It was so inaccurate that I could have laughed. When the producers finally said that I had been successful, I never felt so appreciated, confident and completely understood.

My parents, however, have been devastated. They warned me that I was not strong enough, that it would spoil my career chances and that the broadcast images would be manipulated. I do not care.

Indeed, anxiety and depression returned almost as soon as I entered Big Brother's house.

My behavior was weird. I ate whole pots of Nutella with a spoon in the morning. At one point, I pushed a toothbrush into my throat to make myself sick at the sight of the cameras. No member of the production team asked me if anything was wrong, or if I needed to talk to someone. Yet the producers were too eager to pay attention when I made a casual and thoughtless comment, comparing another competitor – who was black – to a gorilla.

It was unacceptable, yes. I was troubled by the fact that he had spent time in jail for stealing old women and holding them under the threat of a firearm.

But, as stupid as I had been, the remark was not meant to be malicious.

Producers, on the other hand, have been delighted and have played repeatedly in advertising and spin-offs.

After that, I could hear the crowds screaming their hatred at every eviction and I was beginning to hate myself so much that I thought they might be right.

During the week before I left, binge eating intensified. I cried every day. I could not sleep. My heart palpitations were unbearable. There was still no offer of psychological help.

When, after seven weeks in the interior, I was propelled in front of the crowd booing, I was absolutely unprepared. In fact, I felt so bad that I could not answer the most basic questions because I was interviewed on live television.

My attention span had decreased. People thought I was under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

Then I was summoned to a meeting with someone from the "care team", but no one mentioned that I had won the stone twice in seven weeks, that my behavior was extremely strange or that I was now a public hatred. Instead, they said, "You have provided us with so much animation." A stack of articles presenting my name was thrown at me. Then, that was it.

After three days of interviews, I was released into the real world to fend for myself. It would take me months to get the programming people back.

And now, I have become completely reckless and wild, attending night parties, drinking so much that three night clubs are forbidden to me.

In the hope of proving that I had gone beyond the abuses I received on social media, I began to retweet the death threats that were springing up.

In private, however, I was in a dark place where nothing mattered, where I cried hysterically in a pillow. Every day, I took enough laxatives to give me disabling stomach cramps. My eyes were bloodshot, my cheeks marked by blood vessels bursting.

There was a follow-up meeting with the Big Brother care team six months later. I have acted in an extraordinary way, but nothing has been said yet.

I went back to university but was fired because I could not stop interrupting clbades.

I was still living in a fantasy world where 44 cameras and 5 million viewers watched me.

Relationships with my parents deteriorated when, during the celebration of my 21st birthday, I vomited over the table and lost consciousness. Any chance of rebuilding a normal life was gone.

The online footage of the show was everywhere on the internet, describing me as a crazy person, even though I was clearly sick. My reputation meant that there was no prospect of work.

I called the production team and I begged them to delete the clips. The woman at the other end of the line said, "Nothing has changed. You have always been that person. It's just who you are.

Huge changes are needed if we want to continue broadcasting reality shows without ruining even more young lives or devastating families. Program managers must ensure that their "care teams" work in the interest of vulnerable applicants, for example, rather than serving the interests of producers.

Psychiatrists and health experts should be truly independent from production companies.

Psychological badessments must include a thorough examination of the mental state and emotional background of the candidates.

I am convinced that people who want to participate in reality shows are, in fact, the last people who should appear on television because they are so insecure and need validation. We must remind – and often – those who have the courage to participate, that they are free to leave. Today, I have been there and I am really happy. On weekends, I like to walk my dog ​​and write. I am incredibly grateful to those who stayed by my side. But it could have been so different. If my parents had not been there to pick up the coins, I was afraid to think where I would be now – if ever.

This operation must end.

In a statement, Big Brother production company Endemol Shine said, "We do not recognize Caroline's account of our support processes. Big Brother has always taken the well-being of contributors very seriously and had a strong evaluation and well-being system.

"All contributors were thoroughly evaluated by an independent psychiatrist and psychologist before being considered for the show and a thorough badessment of the medical and medical history of a potential roommate."

"A team dedicated to the well-being of contributors, including mental health experts, was present to help roommates both during and after the transmission."