We say we care about mental health – so why are so many men like Mike Thalassitis killing themselves?

His death – so public and so shocking – shows that none of us are immune from anxiety, depression or despair

My uncle took his own life when both he and my dad were in their teens; it’s something that has been shrouded in secrecy ever since and writing about it fills me with fear. We were never allowed to talk about it, and in part, we didn’t want to because bringing it up would cause yet more pain.

Whilst I never knew my uncle, and only found out the heartbreaking circumstances surrounding his death last year – I have seen first-hand how it has torn a family apart, and how it has left a lasting legacy that will remain in place for generations to come.

Suicide can be preventable, but it’s not selfish. It’s the final symptom of an illness; a final collapse under the unbearable weight of depression, loss, grief, self-hatred, loneliness, addiction, abuse or stress. If you have never been close to that knife-edge yourself, I can imagine why it must be hard to understand what drives people to the unthinkable.

Over the past ten years, we’ve seen a global rise in suicide, with America alone seeing a spike of 25 per cent – we’ve also seen an increase in reports of famous faces taking their own lives.

Alexander McQueen, Isabella Blow, Robin Williams, Kate Spade, Chester Bennington, Simone Battle, Verne Troyer, Chris Cornell, Avicii, Anthony Bourdain, Keith Flint, Love Islands’ Sophie Gradon, her partner Aaron Armstrong and most recently, the show’s beloved Mike Thalassitis. This is just a small selection of known names who have seen no other way out, despite being loved and admired by many.

Their deaths – so public and so shocking – show that none of us are immune from anxiety, depression or despair.

In the eyes of the public, they had it all: money, fame, adoration and the respect of their peers. We celebrate their legacies as professionals, or people in the public eye, but we don’t pause to consider what their deaths tell us about mental health; about the way that no amount of external glory can alleviate inner pain.

When it comes to actors and music artists, we’ve all heard stories about them being pushed to their absolute limits. We’ve heard how Demi Lovato was forced to perform "Sober", whilst not sober and unable to remember the words – we all saw the footage of Amy Winehouse incoherently stumbling around on stage, despite telling her management that she couldn’t perform that night.

Reality stars are built up and put on a pedestal – ascribed characters like puppets on strings – with no knowledge of how they’re being portrayed on the outside. As soon as they’re no longer of interest to the media, they’re dropped – still at the mercy of social media trolls, viciously attacking the character that’s been created for the nation’s entertainment.

Producers say that each contestant is given a mental health assessment prior to going on a show, but I wonder how stringent these really are – vulnerable people should not be subjected to a public ballot without support, just because they will “make good TV”.

It’s not just people in the public eye who are in living in a pressure cooker – work places have to start taking responsibility too. Instead of working employees to death, they should be treating people like people, not machines.

I’ve worked in many companies where I’ve never taken holiday, worked 14-hour days and sacrificed my weekends, just to keep a loose rein on my crippling workload. We’re told to talk and flag these issues, but in reality, not many people in positions of authority are willing to listen – let alone help. You can only bend a person’s soul so far before it snaps.

The government confirms that while almost all other leading causes of death are slowly being stemmed by medical and social progress, death caused by depression-related illnesses are now at an all-time high. Yet the money spent on researching and treating these illnesses is just a fraction of what is spent on other leading causes of death.

I tried to seek help for depression and anxiety after an abusive relationship. I was at breaking point but told that I would have to wait over 6 weeks to be considered for CBT and that medication would take weeks to work; if I needed anything else, I would have to call the Samaritans. With this in mind, I can understand why people feel their situations will never change.

Whilst conversations have started to break down barriers and address the stigma around mental health, there’s still a long way to go. We don’t just need to know to talk – we also need to know how to respond, how to spot the warning signs and how to be proactive in tackling this universal, global problem.

While we may not all suffer from mental illness, we all have a role to play in making sure that others feel less afraid of reaching out and getting the support they need in times of crisis. We also have a role in ensuring we’re not the ones who have put them there in the first place.

In the wake of Mike Thalassitis’ death, this is a strong reminder to take time out of your busy schedule; talk a bit more, make the effort, understand what you need to look for – even if time feels scarce.

Life is precious and things can get better, so if you’re feeling low, desperate, like you’re drowning or out of control, don’t ever be afraid to talk or seek help. Even if you think people won’t listen; they will.

If you have been affected by this article, you can contact the following organisations for support:
mind.org.uk
mentalhealth.org.uk
samaritans.org
nhs.uk/livewell/mentalhealth