Trigger warning: suicide
Em North, Senior Digital Marketing Manager, P&O Cruises shares her story:
A little over two years ago, mine and my family’s world fell apart when we lost my brother to suicide. At that time, I wrote a two-page letter about our family’s experience and what it had taught me. I shared this letter with my department and read it out at the funeral. From both, I received overwhelmingly positive feedback, with a number of people saying they were going to take some positive action or other as a direct result.
Ahead of World Mental Health Day it felt like a good time to bring some of my story and learnings to the rest of the business.
The original letter was both long and an exceptionally heavy read, so the following is an abridged version of my story and what it taught me. If even one person makes one small positive change as a result of reading these words, then, once again, it was worth sharing them.
Before I talk about my brother, Paul, I want to talk a bit about myself and my own complicated past. This is not an easy story, nor one I’m proud of, but it’s never been more important to me than now that it’s not a dark and buried secret.
When I met my partner [now over five years ago], my whole life changed. It was immediately different to any other relationship I’d ever had, and arguably the first ever healthy one! It’s been that way ever since and I’ve never been happier. But until then, I never had any real vision for the future. I moved through life day-by-day, crippled in debt, unhappy in relationships, battling depression and putting my whole life into work. In my previous job, I would never leave before the evening and often stayed at the office until gone midnight. Such is agency life perhaps, but I have no doubt on reflection it was my main coping mechanism.
I first attempted suicide at school at age 12. It was a weak attempt, and undoubtedly a cry for help. My first relationship with my first girlfriend had failed and everyone knew about my sexuality. I was ready for them to know, having always been older than my years physically, chemically, and mentally; but I didn’t foresee how unready a peer group of twelve-year-olds were to hear it. My school life was miserable, and I couldn’t get out soon enough. I skipped college, got straight into working, and put all my effort into that.
But it wasn’t enough. Over the years, I found myself back in hospital numerous times through failed suicide attempts. On two such occasions, I was incredibly lucky to survive, and one doctor described one occasion as “a miracle”. As most people in that mindset will tell you, I had convinced myself that everyone would be better off without me. I saw my parents fall apart each time and felt terrible for it, but it took many more years before I found a different perspective on life and learned to love to life.
What I never had to see was the impact on the world when such an attempt was successful. I have never seen or felt so much pain in my life as I did when we lost my brother.
Paul battled lifelong mental health issues that were been misdiagnosed and undertreated since childhood. His mental health made him incredibly vulnerable and there were times when it felt we could not reach him. But then he’d come back to us, and he wanted desperately to change. He wanted to be a great dad, and partner, and brother, and son. He swore he was changing his life, but sadly this never lasted for long.
When he was finally at rest, I sat with him and said all the things I wish I’d said. I told him how much I loved him and missed him and would do anything to bring him back to us. I played him some music, laughed and cried with him, and said the most difficult goodbye of my life. While I laid with my head on his side and soaking his hoodie in tears, because I will never let our family go through this again. I know with every fibre of my being that Paul would never have wanted to hurt us this way, and would have been riddled with regret if he’d somehow got through this last attempt. I know he truly believed we were all better off without him. But he will know now how completely wrong he was. How loved he was, and how missed he will be for the rest of our lives. We’d have all happily dealt with his antics forever more if it meant we could spend one more day with him.
There are three types of people I would want to reach with these words, and three key messages.
Firstly, to anyone who battles depression and ever finds themselves feeling that they wouldn’t be missed. Know this; you are loved more than you can ever know, and worlds will be torn in two if you left. Lives will never, ever be the same again. People will never be the same. No matter how hard life gets, and no matter how sick you get of hearing it, know and believe that life will get better. Reach out to people, seek help, keep talking and try with all your might to seek new and healthier coping mechanisms. Don’t forget; here at CUK we have Mental Health First Aiders plus our Employee Assistance Programme. Check out the Good Day at CUK page for more information and supporting resources.
Secondly, to anyone who knows of someone going through a tough time. Whether it’s overt and they talk about or have attempted suicide, or more subtle and are not themselves or have difficult circumstances in their lives. Reach out, check in, and ask twice. “Are you ok?” won’t always get you to the truth. Following up with “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything you want to talk about?” may just open the door. Offer support and help direct them to people and sources that can help, whether it’s the GP, charities, mindfulness, CBT, or anything else. They might not always thank you, or take your advice, but just knowing someone cares enough to ask could make an unimaginable, incomprehensible difference.
Lastly, to absolutely everyone. We hear it all the time; life is short. We always think there’s more time. More time to mend relationships, for people to get better, or just to hang out. But the harsh reality is that there isn’t always the time we want or need. Never go to sleep on an argument. If you’ve lost touch with someone who was once important to you, maybe now is a good time to reach out. Bury hatchets. Build bridges. Go for a drink. Go for ten. But don’t do it tomorrow; do it today.