I was just getting ready for bed last night, when I had a wee look at my Facebook feed. I generally try to avoid going online late at night, but I was about to have a bath, so I thought I had enough time to wind down after that.

As I scrolled down the page, I saw a very disturbing post from a man I've only known a few months, through hillwalking. It was one of those vividly-coloured banner posts with big bright letters. It said:

"See you all on the flipside. It's been emotional."

I'll try to keep the man's identity as anonymous as possible. He'd taken up hillwalking in a drive to get his life back together after a period of depression and heavy drinking. He'd been on some of the walks I'd organised, and had seemed very strong and fit. But recently he'd pulled out of some of the walks I'd organised, at the last minute.

Last week I heard that he'd turned up for a walk organised by someone else, but that his fitness had declined so badly, he'd had to drop out early on. Apparently he'd gone back to the drinking.

A cry for help?

I saw his post last night half an hour after he'd posted it, and there was already a list of concerned messages from friends asking him how he was feeling. Some of them said they'd tried to phone him, but the phone was ringing out.

As I read through the list, more messages were being added. I was watching a drama unfold. I felt very helpless, as I don't know the man very well. I have no contact details for him and no address.

Was it a cry for help? Whether it was or not, people were there to answer the call.

By the time I'd had my bath, some of his friends were already making their way to his flat. One of them posted that he was standing outside the building but couldn't get in, due to the security. He didn't know the number of the flat.

Another friend advised him to just press all the buzzers, even though it was after midnight by now. And another friend called the police.

I was glad to see that this man had so many good friends looking out for him. I don't know him very well, but he's an outgoing, friendly person and I've had some good conversations with him on the hills.

I scrolled through his Facebook profile. I knew he was an army veteran, and his profile told me that he'd served in Northern Ireland. His profile photo shows him as a young soldier, with the word "Betrayed" in large capital letters underneath.

Scrolling back through his recent posts, I saw a photo from the same evening, showing a selection of mostly used drug blister packs, with the message:

"…And a wee cup of tea. It's easy when you think about it."

Further back there was a post about a small hillwalk he'd done the day before, and before that, a few posts mourning the passing of a good friend of his, who had apparently died quite unexpectedly a few days before.

Not knowing even where this man lived, and knowing very little about him other than his name, I realised that there was nothing I could do to help. I went to bed feeling very concerned.

Dawn

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was check my Facebook feed. There was a post from my friend saying he was fine now and thanking everyone for their concern, especially those who had gone to his rescue.

The posts have since been deleted, so I'm assuming he wants to put this episode behind him. I certainly won't be gossiping about it to anyone who knows him. Hopefully he'll be able to pull back out of that dark place now and start getting back to mental and physical fitness.

Social media has many flaws. It can be abused, and used for the wrong reasons. But I believe it also has many positives. It can bring people together in a time of crisis. And it can show people that they are loved and valued and that their life is worthwhile.