VivaSync

TW: the article contains references to suicide, self harm and eating disorders

It’s World Suicide Prevention Day (10 Sept) today. Given that thousands of people die by suicide in the UK every year, it is as important as ever to amplify the message that suicide is preventable and that help and resources are available. “Every life lost to suicide is a tragedy and one that can be prevented,” says Mubeen Bhutta, Head of Policy, Public Affairs and Campaigns at Samaritans. “While men remain more likely than women to die by suicide, we have seen increasing rates of both suicide and self-harm (the strongest risk factor for suicide) amongst women in recent years. And especially amongst younger women.” 

Research also shows that people from socially marginalised groups and ethnic minorities are more likely to be disproportionately impacted by ill mental health. And if the past few years have shown us anything, it’s that life is full of unexpected circumstances that can be difficult to navigate even if you’re mentally resilient. Between the pandemic, the cost of living crisis and now a looming recession, people have been contending with unprecedented life events and stresses and this can impact our mental health. 

“Suicide is complex and rarely down to one thing. However, we know that times of transition or life pressures, like ending a relationship, starting a new job or leaving education, can feel overwhelming,” explains Mubeen Bhutta of the Samaritans. “We also know that people with particular identities, such as being same-sex attracted, can be at higher risk of suicide.

It’s critically important to be able to spot the signs and support people at risk. Talking to someone you can trust is also really important and could save your life. “It’s ok if you’re feeling low or struggling to cope. You are not alone in feeling like this and it’s important to remember that these feelings are temporary and will pass in time,” says Shilpa, a volunteer at the Samaritans. “Talking about how you’re feeling can help put things into perspective. This could be with someone you trust like a family member or friend, your GP or an emotional support service like Samaritans.”

This World Suicide Prevention Day Glamour UK Contributing Editor Anne-Marie Tomchak speaks to three women who tried to take their own lives. They want you to know that help is available even during the lowest of times and that living again is possible. These are their stories of hope and recovery: 

Sandeep, 33, from London works in marketing and business development at a legal firm. She’s from a big Sikh family and developed various mental health illnesses after moving to a new neighbourhood in 2012. Two years later she attempted to take her own life. Now she wants to ensure there is better representation for ethnic minorities in the mental health system. Sandeep also volunteers at her local Samaritans branch in the Redbridge borough and helps on communications, social media and research projects. 

I’m from a big household (a family of nine) and we are a very close unit. Different generations of the family live together. There are lots of different personalities and every day feels like Christmas. My family is a big source of support for me. But in my culture, things would also be remarked on with no sense of awareness of how that would affect you (such as comments about your figure and the way you look). At the age of 14, I actively started taking up exercise and had become more restricted in my eating. I could still manage at school and by the time I went to university, I was in a relationship and focused on my exams rather than body image. 

However, in 2012 things started to change. As a family, we moved house for the first time ever and to a different borough - that’s when my mental health started to deteriorate. I took up jogging as a hobby at first - running a few times a week. But within months, that hobby was ruling my life. I began keeping food diaries and controlling what I ate, and that’s if anything at all. I weighed myself every day and kept the wrappers of food so I could count calories and see visually what I had consumed. I was critical of my appearance and was constantly comparing myself to others. Looking at social media and beauty magazines back then I didn’t see anyone from an ethnic minority background - not a single person. The celebrities that were beautiful didn’t look like me. It makes you feel very alone and I wondered “who’s going to fight for me and with me?”

I started to withdraw and didn’t go to family events or weddings. I was also feeling a lot of anger and would have big outbursts. 

I started to withdraw and didn’t go to family events or weddings. I was also feeling a lot of anger and would have big outbursts. My dad was the one who noticed a change in me and he staged an intervention, sitting me down and letting me know that the whole family was very worried about me. I was shocked. Realising that what was happening was having a real and direct impact on my parents. 

We booked a doctor's appointment. Until then I didn’t even realise I had a problem. I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa, Body Dysmorphia Disorder (BDD) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and was prescribed antidepressants and referred for six sessions of CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). The medications made me worry less and the therapy sessions helped challenge my negative thoughts. But to be honest it went by so quickly. It had only scraped the surface. 

In 2014 the therapy stopped and I was struggling again. The day before my brother’s birthday, on Friday 29 August, I woke up feeling a dark cloud over me. On the same day, I got dressed and went to my brother’s pre-birthday family get-together. Looking around me, I thought ‘everyone here has a purpose. What is my role?’

I had hit my lowest point and tried to take my own life.  My mother called out for me and with tears streaming down my face we went home as a family and started private therapy. My mum, dad and brother have been my rock on my mental health recovery journey. We make time every month to get out of the house and talk about our true feelings. This has helped all of us open up. We call it our ‘trust family circle time’.  

After many sessions of therapy I started to see and feel a real difference in me. I stopped weighing myself and got to know and respect myself more. By 2016 I had really turned a corner and had stopped medication and now find joy in doing things like dancing, singing, praying at the Gurdwara (a place of worship for Sikhs), keeping a journal, drawing, driving, walking and listening to music. I also threw myself into advocacy work. 

Last spring I looked into therapy again after 7 years as I had started going back into my old ways of OCD and BDD. Although therapy has been transformative for me, I have noticed that very few people in the space look like me. The therapists are mostly white and caucasian. There is a big diversity and inclusion gap that needs to be addressed . We’ve got to change the narrative and address how we speak about suicide and how it can affect anyone, no matter your race, gender etc - mental health does not discriminate. We need to also challenge the language, for example, not saying things like ‘committed suicide’ as it’s judgemental and aportions blame. 

People from Black and Asian minority ethnic backgrounds, worryingly, suffer higher rates of mental health problems than all other groups combined. As a British Indian Sikh Punjabi woman from London, it’s important to speak out. 

People from Black and Asian minority ethnic backgrounds, worryingly, suffer higher rates of mental health problems than all other groups combined. As a British Indian Sikh Punjabi woman from London, it’s important to speak out. Talk. Do not struggle in silence. Someone is always ready to listen. Never feel you should fight these battles alone. 

Olivia, 23, from Hereford, grew up in what she describes as a ‘traumatic environment’. She began self harming at age 13 and was just about to start a new chapter doing her A-Levels while living in a therapeutic community when her father was murdered, leaving her with a lot to process due to their complicated relationship. Talking to others has become her lifeline and her mother and sister are her rocks. Although she says she’s not fully ‘fixed’ and still has her struggles, she’s in a better place today than she could ever have imagined and no longer believes that she will die by suicide. 

I don’t remember a time in my teens when I wasn’t struggling. I began self-harming and developed an eating disorder aged 13, after years of bullying and experiencing emotional and physical abuse by my father. I grew up feeling a lot of shame and hatred. 

I was absent from school a lot and it was hard to live a normal life. Growing up in a traumatic environment didn’t give me the resilience I needed to cope. It was difficult to have an identity or any sense of who I was as I was always seen as high risk and wasn’t safe to be by myself. I was put on antidepressants and antipsychotics and therapy became about risk management. 

My self-harm and suicidal ideation continually progressed, leading to my first inpatient admission aged 15, being sent hours away from home. (Olivia has had 7 inpatient admissions - 3 as a teenager and 4 as an adult) 

This culminated in me spending two years living away from my family in a Therapeutic Community from around the age of 17.  It’s rare to get that kind of help -  a living arrangement where eight to ten of us had our own rooms and there were around five staff on shift who would continually check on us. 

 My dad was tragically murdered. He was a victim of knife crime. I had a very complicated relationship with him. We’d just been in the process of rehabilitating our relationship and were doing things like bonding over music, when his life was taken.

I moved into the therapeutic community in June 2016 and was doing my A-levels. But within two months of living there, I experienced a new trauma. My dad was tragically murdered. He was a victim of knife crime. I had a very complicated relationship with him. We’d just been in the process of rehabilitating our relationship and were doing things like bonding over music, when his life was taken. Losing him suddenly brought up very complicated feelings. I spent much of the next two years attending court dates & the murder trial and my self harm got worse than it had ever been before. 

While studying at university I was struggling a lot with my sexuality and was attending A&E multiple times a week because of self harming. In a way the pandemic provided a fresh start. I made the difficult decision to drop out of my degree and move home during the first lockdown. I wasn’t enjoying it. Shortly after this, I re-established my queer identity and re-came out as a lesbian, which helped massively. Although I’d previously come out as lesbian at 13, I was pushing down a huge part of my identity and didn’t realise how much it was making me struggle. 

In 2021 my life began to turn around. I applied for a degree with the Open University and am now in the second stage of this. I also began volunteering as an LGBTQ+ Officer for a local group and also applied for my first ever job as a Support Worker at my local Mind. This is peer support where your lived experience can help others - people feel more able to open up. I’d also reach a point where I was able to move out of my mum’s house and live independently.

Getting my job and finding who I was has been the most life changing thing for me. I started getting involved in Pride with like minded people in my local area which is quite rural. It has helped me come out of my shell and be more comfortable with my identity. We have regular meet-ups. It’s great to bring the younger and older queer community together throughout the year. It’s the most freeing thing. 

I kept a lot inside for so long.  The only thing that keeps me safe and well is talking. Knowing that services like Samaritans are open 24/7 is really comforting.

I kept a lot inside for so long.  The only thing that keeps me safe and well is talking. Knowing that services like Samaritans are open 24/7 is really comforting.  I first called them when I was 15 and have used the helpline and face to face service over the years. To anyone that is struggling, I’d say – keep reaching out. 

There were times I thought I wouldn’t make it out of my situation. I really never thought things would get better. But I never felt happier in myself than I have in the past year of my life. Finding other things I’m passionate about outside of my mental health has also been important. For a long time my mental health was all I focused on and what defined me. Now I don’t think I am going to die by suicide anymore.  

I still struggle a lot. I’m not “cured” or “fixed”. But I manage my struggles to live a fulfilling life, and that’s more than I ever could have hoped for. I want to share this story of hope because if somehow it got better for me, I really think it can for others too. 

Melody, 39, a product manager living in Cambridge, tried to take her own life at just 12 years old. She struggled with her mental health as a teenager and young adult following the death of her father and had postnatal depression after the birth of her children. Following years of therapy and being diagnosed with ADHD and autism, she is now proudly neurodivergent and on a mission to make other people smile. She is now a listening volunteer for Samaritans and is building their self-help app.

Suicide touched my life at an early age. My uncle James died when I was just 7 and I remember I couldn’t go to the funeral and I was really affected by how his death upset my mum. I found school a real challenge. I didn't fit in and had some physical health problems including chronic headaches and stomach pains. I was a very sensitive child and didn’t understand why people were so nasty to one another. Words have so much power and this was an aspect of my life that I felt so hopeless about and trapped in. My mum and dad said I could change schools, but that was just as scary. I couldn’t see a way out; I couldn’t talk to anyone. I wish I had.

I didn’t want to live anymore. I was tired of trying. So, I thought it would be easier if I wasn’t here. I was only 12 years old at the time and didn’t talk about it with anyone. I was lucky that my attempt on my life didn’t work.

As time went on, I still had terrible headaches and felt there was a black hole inside of me. But by the time I got to university I discovered masking. I could be someone gregarious that people liked. 

As time went on, I still had terrible headaches and felt there was a black hole inside of me. But by the time I got to university I discovered masking. I could be someone gregarious that people liked. It felt like a break. I studied physics and ended up getting a placement on the Beagle 2 lander team in 2003, the first (and only) UK lander sent to Mars. It wasn’t a successful mission, but the entire experience was a fantastic opportunity for me. I didn’t like the competitive nature of research so I decided to volunteer after university and figure out what I really wanted to do. 

Then my dad became unwell. He was diagnosed with early onset dementia. I felt like I needed to be there for mum, so I moved back to my hometown to be close by. My dad’s situation really affected me. I was informed by my GP that the waiting list for talk therapy was too long so they prescribed antidepressants and this affected my moods. It made me feel quite numb and I couldn’t cope with that. I didn’t know what to do. I started to have suicidal feelings. I didn’t feel like I was suicidal ‘enough’ to call Samaritans, so I decided to email. The act of writing everything down really helped order my thoughts. I started counselling in 2006 as well, after convincing my GP that the antidepressants weren’t helping.  

I had a lovely partner who I had met at university. But looking back at that time, I was always trying to be the person someone else wanted me to be: the mum, the wife, the long blonde hair and the neat house. After I had my first child, who is now 8, I struggled with my mental health and was encouraged to take up a running challenge in memory of my dad. It became a new passion. I went from a 5K to a half marathon and had a new focus. After I had my second child, who is 5, I had postnatal depression. So I set myself a new challenge and ran the Brighton marathon in 2018 for Samaritans and MIND dressed as Elsa from Frozen. That year my husband and I decided to divorce, due to the challenges of living together and the impact on my mental health. 

Having gone through years of therapy I have got to the point where I feel stable. It turns out that I have lived with undiagnosed ADHD and autism for a long time. 

Having gone through years of therapy I have got to the point where I feel stable. It turns out that I have lived with undiagnosed ADHD and autism for a long time. I now understand why my body reacts the way it does, with headaches and stomach pains often brought on by unacknowledged anxiety and fear. Getting that diagnosis stopped me blaming myself for being me; I felt that I had been climbing a hill with everyone else and thinking ‘this is really hard!’, whilst I saw others conquering it easily but getting the diagnosis was like finding out that I’m climbing up a waterfall when others are climbing the dry bit! I’m very proud of being neurodivergent.  

To anyone out there struggling I would say if you can find ways to understand yourself first, that’s a big help. Some things will help you and other stuff might not. Letting myself be me and recognising that every day does not need to be perfect has really helped me. 

I now work as a listening volunteer for Samaritans and have got a dream job of helping to build their self-help app. Outside of that, I have a dog, children and I enjoy finding ways to make people smile unexpectedly – like leaving painted stones or notes with messages of kindness in public places. I know why I want to exist. If I ever feel miserable I know I just need to make someone smile. It's knowing that it doesn’t have to be a big thing. The smallest thing can make a difference. 

CTA: Samaritans volunteers are there – day or night, 365 days a year. Whoever you are and whatever you’re facing, they won’t judge you or tell you what to do. They’ll listen so you don’t have to face it alone. Call free, day or night, on 116 123, email jo@samaritans.org or visit samaritans.org  

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