Trigger warning: This post discusses suicide and may be triggering for some readers. If you are struggling, please reach out to your GP, call 999, or contact The Samaritans Helpline or Papyrus Helpline ( if you are aged 18–35) for support.

September is Suicide Prevention Month

This September, in recognition of Suicide Prevention Month, I want to share my perspective on what it’s like to have a family member attempt suicide. My hope is take a little step to help de-stigmatise suicide, highlight the need for better support and understanding, and show the profound impact it can have on loved ones.

Why I don’t believe suicide is selfish

The idea that suicide is selfish is something I completely disagree with. Here’s why:

It’s not about character. Suicide attempts usually come from unbearable pain, whether long-term or due to mental illness, where there can be a sudden, severe drop in mood. People who attempt suicide are not trying to hurt their loved ones, they want to stop the pain.

People can still care deeply. Those who attempt suicide often feel like a burden to others, even if this isn’t true. Their actions come from suffering, not a lack of love or empathy.
Perspective can be distorted. Hopelessness, trauma, or mental illness can make it feel like there are no other options, even when support exists.

A memory that stays with me

I remember being on a train coincidentally to a suicide prevention training for work. The train got stuck mid-journey, and a train crew member announced that someone had taken their life on the tracks, delaying our journey. A wave of sadness hit me but then a woman on the train loudly called the person selfish, complaining about being late.

I was frustrated and saddened. Someone had been in so much pain that they made this choice. Their suffering mattered far more than anyone’s inconvenience. This moment showed me how misunderstood suicide can be, and how urgently we need compassion instead of judgment.

This moment was very triggering because I've come close to losing one of the most important people in my life more than once to suicide.

Supporting a loved one

After my family member attempted suicide, I focused on supporting them in these ways that might help others with a loved one who survived suicide:

Communicating regularly with medical staff to understand their care.
Hospital visits and calls to show presence and concern.
Small gestures like flowers, a card or a teddy bear to show love and care or whatever you know they like.
Being non-judgmental and giving space to process, while letting them know I was always there and giving them love.

How it felt for me

Knowing I could have lost someone I love was overwhelming. Luckily, my loved one survived, but the experience brought grief, fear, sadness, numbness, and ongoing waves of anxiety about it happening again. Supporting someone through this is difficult, it requires patience, compassion, and gentleness towards both the loved one and yourself. Sometimes though, it can be hard to stay strong when someone you love is so vulnerable. It can take a lot out of you, yet there often guilt in even admitting that.

The experience changed me and I don’t think I'll ever be quite the same. It still impacts me deeply even now. These feelings don’t always surface straight away, sometimes (I know for me this is the case) they appear months or even years later. All I wanted and I didn’t get at the time was a hug and someone to tell me ‘it’s going to be ok’ and I still wonder ‘will it be?’.

When loss becomes light

I worked before at a mental health charity, and one of the most memorable people I met through my fundraising role was a father who had lost his daughter to suicide and her partner. Together they raised an incredible amount of money and awareness and even helped the charity in other ways. But that’s not what stayed with me. What touched me the most was how, in their grief, they chose to honour her memory by doing something that could help others transform pain into purpose.

But just to note, if you ever find yourself in this position, please remember that everyone processes grief differently. For some, taking action or creating something meaningful can be healing; for others, rest, self-care, or quieter forms of processing are just as valid. There isn’t a right or wrong way to grieve.

My own experience of feeling this way

Something I’m not ashamed to admit is that I’ve had moments when life felt unbearably heavy times when I’ve had suicidal thoughts. It’s not a weakness, and it doesn’t define me. I’ve never acted on those thoughts, but I have reached out for help, including calling suicide helplines when I felt completely overwhelmed. I’m deeply grateful that I did, because sometimes just hearing a kind voice can make all the difference. What I experienced would be described as passive suicidal thoughts, thoughts of not wanting to live without any intent or plan. Looking back, I can see that on the same days I felt that way inside I probably looked fine to everyone else. That’s why it’s so important to be kind you never know what silent battles someone is fighting.

You don’t always know the pain that people carry, please remember to always try to be kind.

Moving forward

I hope that as a society, we can create sensitive, open conversations about suicide. It is not shameful, and it deserves understanding, attention, and care.

If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or ideation, please seek help immediately — contact your GP, call 999, or reach out to:

The Samaritans – 116 123
Papyrus HOPELINE – 0800 068 4141 (for ages 18–35)

Breaking the Stigma: Suicide Awareness Month