This morning the girls and I headed into town to visit the brand new library that has just opened.

It had been a battle to get out of the house, with one daughter in particular putting up a fight of epic proportions in protest at firstly having to get dressed, and then at being asked to go for a wee, get her shoes on, brush her teeth AND wear a coat.  An hour later, completely worn out from the confrontation, we finally made it to the library, where all memories of the argument instantly evaporated as excitement of the new building and new books to explore took over.

We returned the books we’d borrowed from the old library and then the girls chased through the bookcases to the children’s area at the back.  Breathing in the smell of fresh paint, I followed them at a slightly more sedate pace, letting my eyes take in my surroundings.  A variety of people were browsing the shelves: parents with toddlers, teenagers, the older generation.  The atmosphere was somehow both calm and bustling at the same time – it felt satisfying.  Ella ran up to me, waving a selection of books at me.  Snapping back to the present moment, I smiled down at her and followed her, my eyes searching for the other two girls as I listened to her happy chatter.  Spotting Mimi by the non-fiction section, where she was poring over a book about skateboards, I walked over to her.

As I approached I became aware of the tinny sound of music.  I looked around, trying to find the source, and noticed a youngish man, late teens or early twenties at a guess, sat in front of one of the computers.  His back was turned towards me and he was wearing baggy jeans and a slightly grubby looking sports jacket.  The earphones in his ears confirmed that this was where the music was coming from.  I tried to turn my attention back to Mimi, who was now showing me a book about World War 1, which is what she’s going to be learning about in school, but my eyes kept returning to the guy at the computer – something about him just didn’t seem right.

Almost without realising it, my eyes flicked to his computer screen to see what he was working on.  He was typing some words into Google search, and as he hit ‘enter’ and the results popped up, I froze.

“Suicidal thoughts help”

The cursor hovered over a few of the pages, then he typed in a new search.

“How to hang yourself”

My heart started beating wildly and I felt the familiar rush of heat and adrenaline flowing through me that I get when I’m about to do something way beyond my comfort zone.  I stood motionless for a second or two, which felt like they took forever, then told the girls to go and look at the books on the other side of the shelf.

Slowly, I approached him.  I made sure he saw me so I didn’t startle him, then I motioned to him to take out his earphones.   Confusion flicked across his face as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

He stared at me.

“You matter” I said.

“What?”.  He looked even more confused, then a little frightened.

“You matter”.

Silence.

“I didn’t mean to, but I saw your screen.  I’m sorry.  I know it’s none of my business, but I had to tell you that you matter.  You’re important.”

Tears filled his eyes and he looked away, then quietly told me his story.  His parents had been killed in a car crash and he was struggling.  He’d tried to commit suicide twice (he’d jumped off a bridge and had tried to hang himself in his bedroom), had spent some time in hospital as a result, and all the help that he’d been offered hadn’t really changed anything.  He was in trouble financially and he didn’t know how to get himself out of any of it.

I thought carefully about how to respond.  We talked for about five minutes and I urged him to go back to his GP, or to reach out to a friend, or the local Crisis team – anyone.  I told him that he didn’t have to go through it alone, that as hard as it might be to do he could get himself out of it and make things better and that the voices he could hear in his head aren’t real and that he didn’t need to listen to them.

The girls came over to find out who I was talking to, clearly ready to check out their books and go home for lunch, so I placed my hand on his shoulder and repeated myself one last time: “You matter”.

As we walked away I turned back one last time.  He’d put his earphones back in his ears and opened up Google search again.  This time I saw him type in the words “Crisis team Stafford”.

I have no idea whether me taking five minutes out of my day to connect with him will make a difference.  I really hope so.  It’s going to be difficult not knowing.

Since returning from my weeks holiday in Cornwall I’ve had emails from a couple of clients reaching out to me about serious thoughts they are having about killing themselves.  This is one of the hardest parts of the job I do.  Working with people who are having suicidal thoughts is a contraindication of hypnotherapy – ethically I’m not supposed to do it.  But I can’t abandon them.  I’ve encouraged them to reach out to people close to them – family, friends, their GP, local mental health support teams etc… so that I’m not the only person responsible for their care.  And I’m supporting them as much as I can via email and text.

Two days ago was World Suicide Prevention Day.  The serendipitous nature of this hasn’t escaped my attention.  I’ve had suicidal thoughts in the past, when I was in the midst of anorexia – not being here would have been a blessed relief from all of the noise in my head.  I also had thoughts again more recently, when depression gripped me after Dad died.  There were days where I seriously considered stepping out in front of a bus.   Thankfully I’m through that now – my girls and my husband and my family are too important to me and I have too many things that I still want to do in my life.

But not everyone has the support network that I am lucky enough to have.  Which is why I’m writing this post now, today, to tell every single one of you who might be struggling right now, that you matter.

You matter.

You are important.

The world needs you for something and no matter how hard or bleak things might look or feel to you right now, I promise you that you can get through it and come out the other side.  It’s ok to ask for help.  In fact, it’s vital.  Reach out to someone, anyone.

There seems to be so much pain in this world.  So many people hurting.  It’s hard to deal with and almost impossible to not take on some of that pain when I’m working with them.  But if my words can make a difference to even one person, then it will have been worth it.

If this post has touched you in some way, please do leave some thoughts in the comments box below.  And if you know anyone who you think needs to hear the words “You matter”, please feel free to share it on social media.

Thanks for reading.

3 Comments for: You Matter

Chloe

I’m so sorry to hear about your cousin Shirley, even if it was seven years ago I’m sure it must still be difficult – thank you for sharing. It’s been almost a year since I lost a friend of mine, who also hung himself – the last person in the world I would have thought would commit suicide. What makes me sad is that so many people feel like this and yet so many stay silent. We’ve got to start talking more about mental health.

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