Let's Talk About Mental Health

The threat of suicide dominated my childhood and adolescence. I watched the men in my family struggle with extreme mental health issues as a direct consequence of the trappings of poverty. Suicide attempts were a regular fixture. Sometimes they’d slip under the drama radar; I’d hear of a relative’s hospital admission, a quick stomach pump then home the following day to the same misery he’d been hoping to escape. Then there were the more violent attempts to end life, prompting a string of night terrors and crippling anxiety for those unlucky enough to bear witness; the types of incidents that brought long physical recovery as well as mental. Once a person attempts suicide it’s very difficult not to worry that they’ll try it again. Suicide is… well it’s a final and irreversible act… exhausting and traumatic for everyone affected. But the deepest tragedy of suicide is how a person gets to the point where they believe that death is their only option. Can we talk about that please?

People are generally quite happy discussing issues relating to their physical well-being yet can be ill at ease communicating what goes on in their own minds. It’s not unusual to hear conversations about diets, fitness routines, ailments- even extremely personal physical conditions- but rarely do we hear conversations that relate to a person’s mental state unless it’s in positive terms.

We all know people who hide behind a stiff upper lip and shuffle uncomfortably at the suggestion of inner turmoil. The stigma around mental health remains and it seems not many are willing to admit when they are battling low mood, anxiety or depression. Although there is no doubt that progress is being made, and social media is a useful platform for spreading mental health awareness, there is still shame attached to internal struggle. This is a worry in these unsettling times.

Medical professionals predict a mental health pandemic and an escalating suicide rate. In recent years, up to 75% of suicides in the UK have been completed by men; it remains the biggest killer of males under 45. I read a recent survey that found the number of young American men who have contemplated suicide has DOUBLED since 2018. Is this the reality our young men face here in Scotland? In our Dundee? A city that has the highest suicide rate in mainland Scotland. Can we talk about that please?

I’ve seen first-hand how life can bring a person to the brink. I’ve seen how cruel circumstances and lack of nurture can slowly crush a man’s self-worth until his eyes dull, skin pales, muscles waste and his voice silenced. I’ve seen how ceasing to exist can become the only option for those crippled with mental turmoil. I’ve experienced the shock of blue flashing lights, the frantic rush to save, the sober expression of paramedics… the shame and stigma that hangs in the air for so long afterwards. The aftermath raises many questions of course, but it’s difficult for those left behind to psychologically detach from suicide. It’s brutal. The act of suicide or attempted suicide dominates the memory of the life that went before, leaving unanswerable questions. The reasons that drive an individual to commit suicide are what we should be talking about. So why aren’t we? Times may have changed for the better and health services are equipped to offer more than they did when I was young but we’ve a long way to go to create an open discourse about mental health. Can we talk about that please?

Behind every suicide is an individual with dire mental health issues. Suicide is a dramatic full stop at the end of a grim tale of desperation. It seems strange that the focus is typically on the horrific act itself rather than the factors that contribute to the individual history. My yoga instructor struggles with his mental health and regularly documents how he feels via social media. He has even publicly disclosed his own suicide attempt and I find his honesty utterly refreshing. What is most reassuring is that he embraces an open conversation about feelings in general, through a stream of varied regular media posts. Some days he’s plummeting to the depths of despair and some days he’s elated and celebrating some momentous occasion but many of his posts are just typical ‘how the day is going’ reflections. I think it’s a great thing that he feels comfortable and empowered to communicate his wide spectrum of emotions and I view it as a generous gift to others who might be having difficulties. And he’s quite right to do so because although many people won’t experience the same range of emotions as him, through his honest expression he gives permission to others to share their own highs and lows.

In my ideal world, we wouldn’t hide behind the socially acceptable ‘I’m fine’ façade because we all have two ends to our emotional spectrum and no, we’re not always fine. Why can’t we, like my yoga instructor, come out and say ‘well to be honest, today I’m drowning in a torrent of anguish’? Why can’t we say, ‘Actually I’m a little anxious, not sure why’ or ‘I’m feeling flat’ or ‘I’m so angry that I want to scream’. These responses to daily life can coexist with other common responses such as ‘I’m so excited’, ‘I’m having the best time’ or ‘I feel really positive today’. Why can’t we talk about all of our feelings? Why must it only be the positive ones? If we normalise our minor anxieties could it prevent them from spiralling into major mental health issues? Can we talk about that please?

I have friends who struggle to communicate when they are feeling overwhelmed, for fear of being judged as weak. I hate the stigma that surrounds mental health. I don’t believe anyone is without their insecurities and anxieties. But I can’t pretend to understand the complexities of supporting those in desperate mental health. What I do know is that had more support been in place for the males in my family, if mental health hadn’t been taboo, if there were alternatives to hopelessness, perhaps suicide might not have seemed like it was the only option. Perhaps my male kin folk wouldn’t be part of such a grim set of statistics. Sharing stories and hearing of others’ struggles has been a huge comfort to me in times of difficulty, preventing me from slipping into isolation and despair. It’s good to talk.

How are you feeling today?

Samaritans- 116 123 (free 24-hour helpline) www.samaritans.org.uk

HOPElineUK- 0800 068 4141 www.papyrus-uk.org