https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog daily 0.75 2026-08-26 https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/burn-out-a-personal-reflection-a-path-towards-healing monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://video.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/e329f43c-2975-4411-becd-e740abfa68ff/playlist.m3u8 https://video.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/e329f43c-2975-4411-becd-e740abfa68ff/thumbnail Blog - Burnout: A Personal Reflection on the Path Towards Healing Blog - Burnout: A Personal Reflection on the Path Towards Healing https://video.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/fd6b64b8-327c-44bc-9e79-018e1f54ab5c/playlist.m3u8 https://video.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/fd6b64b8-327c-44bc-9e79-018e1f54ab5c/thumbnail Blog - Burnout: A Personal Reflection on the Path Towards Healing Blog - Burnout: A Personal Reflection on the Path Towards Healing https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/embracing-your-period-as-a-time-of-healing monthly 0.5 2026-08-26 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/bf8a9636-78b4-4d9c-adad-0fe416856f49/IMG_5342.jpeg Blog - Embracing Your Period as a Time of Healing - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/more-than-a-feeling monthly 0.5 2026-03-26 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/b48d48df-7d88-4d79-a2b6-23ac96b428b6/Butterflies+born+by+thy+wish%F0%9F%A6%8B%E2%9C%A8%EF%B8%8F.jpg Blog - More Than a Feeling?A Guest Blog by Psychotherapist & Counsellor Margaret Ward-Martin - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/breaking-the-stigma-suicide-awareness-month monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/3daa0f1d-cb9e-40aa-bf26-10d7073e0161/-4.jpg Blog - Breaking the Stigma: Suicide Awareness Month - Make it stand out Why I Don’t Believe Suicide Is Selfish Content note: This post discusses suicide, suicide attempts, bereavement, and suicidal thoughts. Please take care while reading. If you or someone else is in immediate danger, call 999 or go to A&E. In England, you can call NHS 111 and select mental health option 2 for urgent support. You can also call Samaritans free, at any time, on 116 123. Young people under 35, and anyone concerned about them, can contact PAPYRUS HopeLine 24/7 on 0300 102 2470 or text HOPE to 88247. World Suicide Prevention Day takes place on 10 September. In recognition of it, I want to share my perspective on what it’s like to have a family member survive a suicide attempt. My hope is to take a small step towards de-stigmatising suicide, highlighting the need for greater understanding and support, and showing 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. Suicidal thoughts and attempts can arise from unbearable psychological pain, whether that pain has existed for a long time or has been intensified by mental illness and a sudden, severe drop in mood. Someone in that position isn’t necessarily trying to hurt the people who love them. They are trying to find a way out of pain that feels impossible to survive. People experiencing suicidal thoughts can still care deeply about others. Some believe they are a burden, even when that isn’t true. Hopelessness, trauma, or mental illness can distort someone’s perspective until it feels as though there are no other options, even when help exists. None of this erases the profound effect a suicide or suicide attempt can have on loved ones. It means we can acknowledge that impact without turning a person’s most painful moment into a judgement of their character. A Memory That Stays With Me I remember being on a train to suicide-prevention training for work. The train stopped mid-journey, and a crew member announced that someone had died by suicide, delaying our journey. A wave of sadness hit me. Then a woman on the train loudly called the person selfish and complained about being late. I felt frustrated and saddened. Someone had been in so much pain that they had lost their life. Their suffering mattered far more than anyone’s inconvenience. That moment showed me how misunderstood suicide can be and how urgently we need compassion instead of judgement. It was also deeply triggering because I have come close to losing one of the most important people in my life to suicide more than once. How It Felt for Me Knowing that I could have lost someone I love was overwhelming. I’m incredibly grateful that 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 your loved one and yourself. Sometimes it can be hard to stay strong when someone you love is in so much pain. It can take a great deal out of you, yet there is often guilt in even admitting that. The experience changed me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be quite the same. It still affects me deeply. These feelings don’t always surface immediately; sometimes, as they did for me, they appear months or even years later. All I wanted at the time was a hug and someone to tell me, “It’s going to be okay.” I still sometimes wonder, “Will it be?” Supporting a Loved One After my family member’s suicide attempt, I focused on supporting them in ways that may also help others: Communicating with medical staff, where appropriate, to understand their care. Visiting and calling to show my presence and concern. Offering small gestures—flowers, a card, a teddy bear, or something else I knew they would appreciate. Listening without judgement and giving them space to process. Reminding them that I loved them and was there for them. Love and presence matter, but they cannot replace professional care. Family members should not have to carry the responsibility alone, and they deserve support too. My Own Experience of Suicidal Thoughts Something I’m not ashamed to admit is that I’ve also experienced moments when life felt unbearably heavy and I had suicidal thoughts. It isn’t a weakness, and it doesn’t define me. I have never acted on those thoughts, but I have reached out for help, including calling suicide helplines when I felt completely overwhelmed. I’m grateful that I did, because sometimes 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 may be fighting. When Loss Becomes Hope I previously worked for 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 and her partner to suicide. Together, the family raised an incredible amount of money and awareness and supported the charity in other ways. But that isn’t what stayed with me most. What touched me was how, in their grief, they chose to honour her memory by doing something that could help others. They transformed some of their pain into purpose. If you ever find yourself in this position, however, please remember that everyone processes grief differently. For some people, taking action or creating something meaningful can be healing. For others, rest, self-care, or quieter forms of processing are just as valid. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Moving Forward I hope that, as a society, we can create sensitive and open conversations about suicide. It is not shameful. It deserves understanding, attention, and care. Someone experiencing suicidal thoughts needs compassion and appropriate support, not condemnation. The people who love them also need somewhere safe to place their fear, grief, and exhaustion. If you need support: Immediate danger: Call 999 or go to A&E. Urgent mental-health support in England: Call NHS 111 and select mental health option 2. Samaritans: Call 116 123 free, 24 hours a day. PAPYRUS HopeLine 24/7: Call 0300 102 2470 or text HOPE to 88247. The service supports young people under 35 and people concerned about them. Suicide is not a moral failing. Behind it is a person in pain, and around that person are others who may be carrying more than anyone can see. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/2fc7e0e7-2a89-449f-b7e6-e9ec5e100997/IMG_5755-2.jpeg Blog - Breaking the Stigma: Suicide Awareness Month You don’t always know the pain that people carry, please remember to always try to be kind. https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/building-a-life-anywhere monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/29af301d-7d55-4ac8-bdff-3956850aa041/-3.jpg Blog - Finding Peace and Perspective When Home Isn’t Perfect - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/you-dont-have-to-be-perfect-to-love-yourself-you-are-enough monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/what-no-one-tells-you-about-growing-up-with-a-mentally-ill-parent monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/40112dbe-c9d5-483b-94ec-9d493d160d8a/-10.jpg Blog - What No One Tells You About Growing Up With a Mentally Ill Parent - Make it stand out Growing up with a parent who has a severe mental illness can be incredibly challenging. What often saddens me, though, is that much of the content and many of the perspectives I see about this experience focus only on the negatives, or centre on cutting the parent out entirely and the damage it has caused. I can empathise with those experiences, and I feel genuine compassion for people whose lives have been shaped in that way. But that hasn’t been my full experience. While growing up with an unwell parent has been difficult and has impacted me in real and lasting ways, I also want to share a more balanced perspective, one that doesn’t deny the hardship but allows room for complexity, meaning, and even growth. For me, this experience has shaped who I am in positive ways as well. It has made me more sensitive and empathetic, more inclined to understand others, to give people chances, and to see the beauty and humanity in all kinds of people. Despite the challenges and heartbreak that can come with it, I also have a deeply meaningful and beautiful relationship with my parent. The Realities People Don’t Always See I don’t want to brush over the challenges, because they are very real and very present. One of the hardest parts for me has always been the unpredictability. Life was, and still is, uncertain. There can be a new crisis at any moment, and you never quite know what to expect. There is also the constant awareness that this illness can be life-threatening. Growing up in that environment can leave you feeling unsteady. It can make it harder to navigate the world, create an ongoing sense of pressure, and affect how safe or secure life feels. I think this is very difficult for others to fully understand unless they’ve experienced mental illness themselves or lived closely alongside someone who has. Recently, someone said to me, “Well, it’s been going on a long time, so this isn’t really anything new for you.” But that misunderstands the reality. This isn’t something that happens once and then settles. It’s ongoing stress over a long period of time. Making Meaning Without Minimising Pain That said, I believe that experiences, even painful ones, can shape us in meaningful ways. The relationships we have with our parents are among the most formative in our lives, and I’ve reached a place of acceptance around the reality of who mine are. When challenges arise, I’ve realised they have helped me learn a lot about life and grow. Growing up in an unstable environment is undeniably hard. But I can also see how it has made me try to be less judgemental of others who are struggling, who find life unpredictable, or who are carrying unseen burdens. Even when I don’t immediately understand someone’s behaviour, I tend to reflect and ask why. I find uncertainty particularly difficult because of my upbringing. But in a strange way, that has become a gift. It means I’ve had to learn how to create stability for myself by showing up for myself, keeping promises to myself, building habits, and prioritising self-care. That has taught me responsibility, self-trust, and resilience in ways I might not have learned otherwise. A Relationship That Is Different and Still Beautiful My relationship with my parent is genuinely a beautiful one, and I wouldn’t want anyone to think it’s any less meaningful than another parent–child relationship. It is different and, in some ways, it’s harder, though I know everyone has their own challenges and comparisons don’t really help. Our relationship is filled with care and concern, but that isn’t a negative thing to me. I’m grateful that I have someone to care about. Perhaps if my parent hadn’t been so ill, we wouldn’t be as close as we are now. I’m glad that I get to be there for them. We also laugh. We joke. There is a lot of love between us, even if that love isn’t always expressed in the way a parent might traditionally show it. When I can’t see them, I send cards, and they have over twenty of them displayed on their wall. Knowing that they bring them comfort makes me feel deeply loved in return. Challenging the Idea of “Less Than” Something I really struggle with is the idea, often reinforced by society, that someone with severe mental illness is somehow less than, or simply someone to be pitied. Empathy is essential, of course, but pity strips people of their dignity. People with mental illness are not less human, less valuable, or less worthy. My parent is one of the kindest people I know. They are always thinking of others. When they were in hospital and there was a smoothie-making activity, they didn’t make one for themselves; they made smoothies for the entire medical team. That’s who they are. I’m not saying every person with mental illness is the same, but there is often a deep sensitivity there, alongside the illness, not erased by it. The illness is part of their experience, but it is not the sum of who they are. There is also a strong creative side to my parent. They are highly artistic and expressive, not only through creative activities but in the way they communicate and see the world differently. I am in awe of them. While they haven’t been able to have a conventional career or live the kind of life many people expect, and, in many ways, have been robbed of those opportunities, they are still an incredibly talented, special, and meaningful person. Their life has value. Their humanity has value. They are not less than anyone else. What This Experience Gave Me This upbringing has shaped the way I see other people. It’s made me want to look for the good in others. I sometimes think that if my parent hadn’t been ill, I might have been more self-absorbed, more protected, or less aware of other people’s pain. Instead, I feel a strong pull to understand those who are suffering. I don’t instinctively judge someone if they’re homeless, struggling with addiction, living with mental illness, or carrying visible struggles. I’m curious about their story rather than dismissive of it. That commitment to empathy feels like a real gift, one I’m deeply grateful for and wouldn’t want to lose. Seeing Humanity Up Close I’m also aware that this life has allowed me to see a side of the world that not everyone gets to see. I’ve spent a lot of time in mental health wards, not only visiting my parent but learning how to communicate with medical staff. That’s a skill I wouldn’t have developed otherwise. I’ve also interacted with other patients, and that experience has reinforced my belief in human goodness. Mental health wards are often imagined as frightening places, but in my experience, they haven’t been. Strangely enough, they’re some of the places where I’ve felt happiest. They can be deeply supportive environments. Nurses genuinely care. Patients often care for one another. I’ve seen people brushing each other’s hair. I’ve had patients come up to me, hug me, and interact with me in the most gentle, human ways. Those moments have stayed with me. They’ve shown me that even in the midst of suffering, people can offer extraordinary care to one another. That truth exists alongside the difficulty, not instead of it. Growing Up With a Parent Who Has a Severe Mental Illness Growing up with a parent who has a severe mental illness can be incredibly challenging. What often saddens me, though, is that much of the content and many of the perspectives I see about this experience focus only on the negatives, or centre on cutting the parent out entirely and the damage it has caused. I can empathise with those experiences, and I feel genuine compassion for people whose lives have been shaped in that way. But that hasn’t been my full experience. While growing up with an unwell parent has been difficult and has impacted me in real and lasting ways, I also want to share a more balanced perspective, one that doesn’t deny the hardship but allows room for complexity, meaning, and even growth. For me, this experience has shaped who I am in positive ways as well. It has made me more sensitive and empathetic, more inclined to understand others, to give people chances, and to see the beauty and humanity in all kinds of people. Despite the challenges and heartbreak that can come with it, I also have a deeply meaningful and beautiful relationship with my parent. The Realities People Don’t Always See I don’t want to brush over the challenges, because they are very real and very present. One of the hardest parts for me has always been the unpredictability. Life was, and still is, uncertain. There can be a new crisis at any moment, and you never quite know what to expect. There is also the constant awareness that this illness can be life-threatening. Growing up in that environment can leave you feeling unsteady. It can make it harder to navigate the world, create an ongoing sense of pressure, and affect how safe or secure life feels. I think this is very difficult for others to fully understand unless they’ve experienced mental illness themselves or lived closely alongside someone who has. Recently, someone said to me, “Well, it’s been going on a long time, so this isn’t really anything new for you.” But that misunderstands the reality. This isn’t something that happens once and then settles. It’s ongoing stress over a long period of time. Making Meaning Without Minimising Pain That said, I believe that experiences, even painful ones, can shape us in meaningful ways. The relationships we have with our parents are among the most formative in our lives, and I’ve reached a place of acceptance around the reality of who mine are. When challenges arise, I’ve realised they have helped me learn a lot about life and grow. Growing up in an unstable environment is undeniably hard. But I can also see how it has made me try to be less judgemental of others who are struggling, who find life unpredictable, or who are carrying unseen burdens. Even when I don’t immediately understand someone’s behaviour, I tend to reflect and ask why. I find uncertainty particularly difficult because of my upbringing. But in a strange way, that has become a gift. It means I’ve had to learn how to create stability for myself by showing up for myself, keeping promises to myself, building habits, and prioritising self-care. That has taught me responsibility, self-trust, and resilience in ways I might not have learned otherwise. A Relationship That Is Different and Still Beautiful My relationship with my parent is genuinely a beautiful one, and I wouldn’t want anyone to think it’s any less meaningful than another parent–child relationship. It is different and, in some ways, it’s harder, though I know everyone has their own challenges and comparisons don’t really help. Our relationship is filled with care and concern, but that isn’t a negative thing to me. I’m grateful that I have someone to care about. Perhaps if my parent hadn’t been so ill, we wouldn’t be as close as we are now. I’m glad that I get to be there for them. We also laugh. We joke. There is a lot of love between us, even if that love isn’t always expressed in the way a parent might traditionally show it. When I can’t see them, I send cards, and they have over twenty of them displayed on their wall. Knowing that they bring them comfort makes me feel deeply loved in return. Challenging the Idea of “Less Than” Something I really struggle with is the idea, often reinforced by society, that someone with severe mental illness is somehow less than, or simply someone to be pitied. Empathy is essential, of course, but pity strips people of their dignity. People with mental illness are not less human, less valuable, or less worthy. My parent is one of the kindest people I know. They are always thinking of others. When they were in hospital and there was a smoothie-making activity, they didn’t make one for themselves; they made smoothies for the entire medical team. That’s who they are. I’m not saying every person with mental illness is the same, but there is often a deep sensitivity there, alongside the illness, not erased by it. The illness is part of their experience, but it is not the sum of who they are. There is also a strong creative side to my parent. They are highly artistic and expressive, not only through creative activities but in the way they communicate and see the world differently. I am in awe of them. While they haven’t been able to have a conventional career or live the kind of life many people expect and, in many ways, have been robbed of those opportunities, they are still an incredibly talented, special, and meaningful person. Their life has value. Their humanity has value. They are not less than anyone else. What This Experience Gave Me This upbringing has shaped the way I see other people. It’s made me want to look for the good in others. I sometimes think that if my parent hadn’t been ill, I might have been more self-absorbed, more protected, or less aware of other people’s pain. Instead, I feel a strong pull to understand those who are suffering. I don’t instinctively judge someone if they’re homeless, struggling with addiction, living with mental illness, or carrying visible struggles. I’m curious about their story rather than dismissive of it. That commitment to empathy feels like a real gift, one I’m deeply grateful for and wouldn’t want to lose. Seeing Humanity Up Close I’m also aware that this life has allowed me to see a side of the world that not everyone gets to see. I’ve spent a lot of time in mental health wards, not only visiting my parent but learning how to communicate with medical staff. That’s a skill I wouldn’t have developed otherwise. I’ve also interacted with other patients, and that experience has reinforced my belief in human goodness. Mental health wards are often imagined as frightening places, but in my experience, they haven’t been. Strangely enough, they’re some of the places where I’ve felt happiest. They can be deeply supportive environments. Nurses genuinely care. Patients often care for one another. I’ve seen people brushing each other’s hair. I’ve had patients come up to me, hug me, and interact with me in the most gentle, human ways. Those moments have stayed with me. They’ve shown me that even in the midst of suffering, people can offer extraordinary care to one another. That truth exists alongside the difficulty, not instead of it. https://www.growwithrosario.com/blog/you-are-allowed-to-contain-both-light-and-dark monthly 0.5 2026-08-25 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/43222311-0928-4095-bac1-ae907ce4fa4d/-31.jpg Blog - You Are allowed to Contain Both Light and Dark - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://www.growwithrosario.com/contact daily 0.75 2026-01-26 https://www.growwithrosario.com/home daily 1.0 2026-08-05 https://www.growwithrosario.com/toolsandcourses daily 0.75 2026-08-05 https://www.growwithrosario.com/podcastandyoutube daily 0.75 2026-07-25 https://www.growwithrosario.com/faqs daily 0.75 2026-02-09 https://www.growwithrosario.com/about-1 daily 0.75 2026-08-05 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/f03a297a-99a9-48b4-83d4-be157ab04374/IMG_3514.jpeg https://www.growwithrosario.com/coaching daily 0.75 2026-07-09 https://www.growwithrosario.com/journal daily 0.75 2026-08-19 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/1e9d2adc-341e-4a2f-ba42-152e602a8580/B76BE81A-B0E8-4066-AAE4-70B311A933D7.JPG https://www.growwithrosario.com/coursesandtools daily 0.75 2026-03-25 https://www.growwithrosario.com/coursesandtools/guides monthly 0.5 2026-03-15 https://www.growwithrosario.com/coursesandtools/p/burnout-recovery-habits monthly 0.5 2026-07-06 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/67defcdeab25030784298178/c9caad34-1ac7-44d1-9739-1d91e83833bb/IMG_7929.jpeg Courses & Tools - Habits for Coming Back to Yourself: A guide to recovering from burnout - IMG_7929.jpeg