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 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.

It wasn’t.

The conversation stayed safe. It focused on grief and 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 often 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 ends.

Suicide rarely appears out of nowhere. It is not a decision people arrive at lightly. It builds over time. Days, weeks, months, sometimes years. Occasionally there is a defining moment. More often, it is a series of smaller ones, accumulating quietly until they become overwhelming.

Trust erodes.

Support disappears.

Relationships fracture.

Confidence fades.

Self-worth declines.

People often talk about suicide as though it exists separately from the life that came before it. It doesn’t. It sits at the end of a much longer story.

That story is often easier to ignore.

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 explain 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.

It should not stop there.

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

Instead, suicide is frequently reduced to something easier to consume. Slogans printed on jumpers. Awareness campaigns that look good and ask very little.

Visibility without substance is not progress.

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 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 photographs. Standing still long enough to notice things most people pass by. Sunrises. Sunsets. Simplicity.

If anything, those experiences feel sharper because of what I have been through.

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, then express surprise when they cannot sustain it.

We talk about resilience as though people simply need to be stronger.

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, more than 7,000 people died by suicide in the UK. That number is not abstract. It represents individuals who reached a point where something became unbearable.

Not suddenly.

Progressively.

Not without warning.

Often without being 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 something 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 and saying:

This person counts.

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