I have often wondered whether I should talk about suicide online. I have tried, more than once, to remove myself from the world. This is not a plea for sympathy, and it is not an attempt to shock. But it is something that needs to be said plainly.

I was listening to a podcast recently. A television personality interviewing a long-standing presenter. The conversation turned to the loss of her sister. On the surface, it felt appropriate. Exposure to the topic is good exposure, right?

No. Not like this.

The conversation stayed safe. It focused on grief, on loss, on the aftermath. It circled the edges and avoided the question at the centre of it all: why. We say we need to talk about suicide more, but when we do, we soften it. We make it easier to sit with. Easier to move past.

If anything is going to change, that cannot be where the conversation stops.

Suicide does not appear out of nowhere. It is not a decision people arrive at lightly. It is pressure, building over time. Days, weeks, months, sometimes years. Occasionally it is one defining moment. More often, it is a series of smaller ones, stacking quietly until they become overwhelming.

It can be the erosion of trust. Of support. Of confidence. Of relationships. Of self-worth.

It can be being told “we all face hardship” when you try to open up.
It can be hearing “what have you got to be depressed about?” when you are already struggling to explain yourself.
It can be “I’m not going to change for anyone” when you try to express how someone’s behaviour is affecting you.

These things are often dismissed as minor. They are not.

If someone in your life has felt suicidal, or has died by suicide, it is not your fault. But that does not mean the conversation ends there. Too often, it turns inward and stops at grief, guilt and personal pain, as though that is the conclusion.

It should not be the conclusion.

Because understanding matters. Listening matters. Taking people seriously, even when it is inconvenient, matters.

Instead, we reduce suicide to something palatable. Slogans printed on jumpers. Campaigns that look good, sound good, and ask very little.

Suicide is not a marketing strategy. It is not a trend. Visibility without substance is not progress. Without action, without support, without meaningful engagement, it becomes performance.

And performance does not save lives.

When I was at my lowest, I knew I could not speak without being dismissed. I would be told I was dramatic. That I was “having an episode.” That I needed to get on with things. There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from knowing something is wrong, while also knowing exactly how people will respond if you try to say it out loud.

It is isolating. It is relentless. And it is shaped by the responses you receive.

And yet, I love life.

I love walking. Taking pictures. Standing still long enough to notice things most people pass by. Sunrises. Sunsets. Simplicity. If anything, feeling suicidal has made that clarity sharper.

The problem is not life itself. It is how difficult we can make it to live.

The pressure. The noise. The expectations. The lack of space to exist without being pulled in multiple directions. We expect people to function at a level that leaves no room for struggle, and then express surprise when they cannot sustain it.

We talk about resilience as though people simply need to be stronger. They do not. Most people are already carrying more than they should have to.

What they need is time. Space. Understanding. Honest communication.

Instead, we offer very little. Then we act shocked at the consequences.

In 2024, 5,717 people died by suicide. That number is not abstract. It represents individuals who reached a point where something in their lives became unbearable. Not suddenly, but progressively. Not without warning, but often without being properly heard.

It is easier to believe nothing could have been done. That it was inevitable. But that belief often protects us more than it reflects reality.

This is why the conversation cannot end at loss. It must continue into understanding. Into reflection. Into change. Not slogans. Not performance. Not something designed to be comfortable.

Something real.

Because until that number is lower, there is work to be done.

And that work begins by refusing to let another death be reduced to something easier to consume.

By looking at it directly, without hesitation, and saying:

This person counts.

If you are struggling, you can contact Samaritans on 116 123 or visit samaritans.org.