As a doctor working in a busy hospital A&E in south-east London, I thought spending the summer of 2018 in the sun as a contestant on the ITV reality show Love Island wouldn’t be all that difficult. Sun, sea, attractive people and, best of all, no mobile phones – how hard could it be? It turns out I couldn’t have been more wrong. If the contestants in the new series are expecting a relaxed summer of sun by the pool, they are in for a shock.

From the moment my phone was taken off me as part of the pre-show preparations, I realised it was not going to be a walk in the park. There would be no speaking to friends or family or knowing what was happening in the outside world. Then came the dreaded entrance to the Love Island villa, in which the men walk in, one by one, to a line of female contestants who are waiting, ready to step forward for you, or stay in line and reject you. My turn came and I stood there shaking as my worst fears were realised: no one stepped forward. I felt sick and ashamed knowing that very soon, millions of people would see my humiliation – including all my family, friends and colleagues.

The days that followed were some of the hardest of my life. My Love Island journey lasted just short of eight weeks, in which time I experienced countless highs and lows. I had some of the best moments of my life: I made some great friends and there was lots of fun and laughter. But I also experienced some dark times.

From learning to live with 10 or more strangers in one bedroom to the stress and anxiety of other contestants constantly trying to steal your partner, it’s far from an easy ride.

One of the hardest things for me was being unable to speak to my family and friends, when all I wanted to do was to ask for their advice and support in what was an emotional rollercoaster. There was also the inevitable anxiety about how I was being perceived on the outside. My fear was that I had no control of how I was being shown to the world. I can’t emphasise enough how powerful the edit can be. In a 24-hour period even the most angelic of characters will have good moments and bad ones. Given each daily episode is about 45 minutes long, there’s always the risk that only your bad side is shown to the viewers, and that’s the side that will be judged on social media. Scary, really.

Once my time on the island was over, I opened up my Instagram account to discover it had swollen from about 200 followers to more than a million. Scrolling through, I found thousands of comments, of support and hate in equal measure. It really hit me: what had I let myself in for?

I’m grateful for the kindness of the majority of the public after the show, but I’ve also faced regular trolling on social media including attacks on my physical appearance, my personality and my relationship with my girlfriend. At first I found this incredibly hard, but I’m now in a space where I find it easier to ignore the trolls.

I’m lucky that returning to my career as a doctor has meant I haven’t needed to rely on becoming a celebrity influencer.

But the tragic deaths of two former contestants, Mike Thalassitis and Sophie Gradon, have brought to the fore justified questions about the mental health support and aftercare available for contestants on reality TV shows such as Love Island. My experience has been a good one. I was assessed by a psychologist before, during and after my time in the villa, and was told I could ask for help at any point. In the past year, I’ve realised that the rejection I experienced on the show, and the attacks I’ve had on social media since, have affected me more than I initially thought. Shortly after Christmas, I approached ITV and asked for counselling. The sessions it organised with a psychologist have helped me adapt to life after the show. But I did have to ask for counselling, and I worry not all contestants struggling with the after-effects of the show will necessarily feel comfortable doing so.

So I’m really glad to see there are some changes being made this year, including post-show counselling sessions being offered to all contestants. The production team should also make participants fully aware of the risks, as well as potential positives, of taking part, so people are more likely to make informed decisions about whether to enter the villa.

There also needs to be much more guidance on how to interact with social media after the show, in particular how to deal with trolling. There is not one former islander I have spoken to who has not experienced anxiety about their Instagram and other social media accounts. I also believe there should be an element of career advice and support with financial planning as part of the aftercare: the idea that islanders will walk out of the show and make millions of pounds is absurd, and the realisation that this isn’t the reality can affect contestants’ mental health and wellbeing.

Making what are relatively simple alterations to the support contestants on shows such as Love Island get could make a big difference to their lives once their time on screen is over. There’s a huge audience appetite for a show such as Love Island. Let’s hope that the right lessons have been learned to prevent future tragedies.

• Alex George is an NHS doctor and former Love Island contestant