{"id":2793,"date":"2025-05-11T14:00:00","date_gmt":"2025-05-11T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/?p=2793"},"modified":"2025-05-14T21:39:25","modified_gmt":"2025-05-14T21:39:25","slug":"when-my-mum-took-her-own-life-i-discovered-her-secret-battle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/2025\/05\/11\/when-my-mum-took-her-own-life-i-discovered-her-secret-battle\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2018When my mum took her own life I discovered her secret battle\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n\t\t\"Amelia\t<\/div>
Amelia Wrighton was 19 when her mum died (Picture: Supplied)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

There were two phrases that Amelia Wrighton found unhelpful after her mum died by suicide<\/a>. \u2018Time is a great healer\u2019 and \u2018At least she\u2019s not in pain any more…\u2019 Both sentiments she could do without hearing<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Then there were the insensitive, thoughtless comments, Amelia, 32, tells Metro<\/strong>. \u2018The number of times people say \u201cOh God, I would have killed myself!\u201c. It just happens all the time.\u2019<\/p>\n

While she knew that most were accidental or came from a well-meaning place, the Londoner began to dread any conversations about her family. She’d fear questions about her parents on first dates, and any discussion about Mother\u2019s Day felt tense and uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

To cope, she taught herself to avoid certain situations and made sure she didn’t talk about her mum, Cindy, with new people.<\/p>\n

Amelia was 19 and studying at university in Paris, when her mother ended her life in 2011. She received the news from her dad when he unexpectedly appeared on campus one day.<\/p>\n

\u2018As soon as I saw him, I immediately knew something was wrong. I remember he couldn\u2019t get any words out, and I was shouting at him, \u201cIs grandma dead?\u201d\u2019 she explains. When Amelia found out the truth, she recalls falling to the ground, but not much else after.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Heirloom\t<\/div>
Things were a blur for Amelia in the months after her mum’s suicide (Picture: Supplied)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u2018I don\u2019t remember the next 24 hours. It was shock and adrenaline,’ she adds.<\/p>\n

An only child, Amelia returned to England for the funeral with her father, who was divorced from Cindy. The following weeks continued to be a blur, she says, but Amelia does remember reading her mother\u2019s suicide notes and a big binder of her medical notes.<\/p>\n

She soon discovered that Cindy, who suffered from bipolar disorder and some other health issues, had made an attempt on her life<\/a> four years before, but that the family had been sworn to secrecy.<\/p>\n

\u2018That was difficult. I felt like I\u2019d been living a bit of a lie,\u2019 admits Amelia. \u2019You look back at every scenario, going, \u201cWere you happy that birthday or were you depressed and thinking about how you were going to die?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018My body had a physical reaction and I was sick all the time. I had awful nightmares and couldn\u2019t sleep properly at all. My brain was total mush.\u2019<\/p>\n

Worried she would fail her university term, Amelia went back to France after just three weeks and developed coping methods – some healthy, some less so.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Heirloom\t<\/div>
Cindy had attempted to take her own life four years before her suicide (Picture: Supplied)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Six months later, Amelia was told by a hairdresser that she had bald patches at the back of her head, and a doctor diagnosed alopecia. \u2019They asked me if I had had any stress, and I said \u201cno\u201d. To me, stress meant money problems or exam struggles. It meant something completely different because I hadn’t learnt about the way grief can affect people,’ she explains.<\/p>\n

‘But I had this darkness when I was alone. I would cry for a few hours every day. Being only 19, I just thought that that was my new normal. When I was with people I would being okay and be civil, although sometimes I would get a bit too drunk and emotional. I assumed my core was always going to be very sad and heavy because I’d always miss my mum.<\/p>\n

\u2018I found the concept of suicide so confusing and I was terrified of feeling that dark myself.\u2019<\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t\tThe impact of suicide\t\t\t<\/h2>\n
\n

Maria Bailey, who runs a national social enterprise supporting people with loss called Grief Specialists, explains that people bereaved by the sudden death of a friend or family member are 65% more likely to attempt suicide if the deceased died that way<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\u2018Suicide bereavement has complex layers, such as guilt. People may ask themselves; How didn\u2019t I see this coming? Why couldn\u2019t I stop it? And there could be feelings of judgement from others,’ she says.<\/p>\n

‘<\/strong>There is also a stigma around this kind of loss. It can feel very lonely, like nobody understands. Not everyone leaves a note, which means the bereaved might be left without understanding the reasons. There might be a total shock, even more so if they have to identify the body. If you are dealing with such a huge loss, I would always recommend professional support, whether that\u2019s counselling, a grief programme, or other support organisations.\u2019<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

Amelia had a breakthrough 18 months later when a friend\u2019s mum suggested therapy. Taking her advice, she began counselling which helped her realise it was possible to heal and process the trauma of not only realising that her mum was gone, but there was a side of her she knew very little about.<\/p>\n

However, the truth was Amelia was still compartmentalising her grief due to the stigma around suicide. This was until 2019, when she met a young woman called Emma through her media and marketing job, who\u2019d lost her dad the same way.<\/p>\n

\u2019It wasn\u2019t something I spoke about, but over a glass of wine, Emma noticed me avoiding the same things that she avoided. I talked about my dad a lot but didn’t say anything about my mum. Emma just asked me outright: \u201cDid you lose your mum to suicide?\u201d And I was like, \u201cOh my God, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Heirloom\t<\/div>
Amelia knows that Cindy would be proud of her (Picture: Supplied)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The pair decided they wanted to help others going through the same thing and in July 2020 launched the charity <\/a>Suicide&Co<\/a>, to offers free support from specialist counsellors to those bereaved by suicide.<\/p>\n

6,000 people take their own lives each year in the UK, which means that 36,000 people are bereaved by suicide*, as around six people are significantly affected by each loss. <\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t\t\u2018I still can\u2019t answer my phone after losing my partner to suicide\u2019\t\t\t<\/h2>\n
\n

Yasmin Shaheen-Zaffar, 53, lost her partner to suicide in 2016<\/strong>, here she tells Metro the impact his loss had on her.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u2018I loved Adam* very much but we weren\u2019t married and he wasn\u2019t the biological father to my daughter, so I always felt that I didn\u2019t have the right to be bereaved when he died by suicide 19 years ago.<\/p>\n

We were together for two years but people told me I came in too late in his life for a chapter that was already written.<\/p>\n

They said it wasn\u2019t a matter of if he would take his one life, but when.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Heirloom\t<\/div>
Yasmin felt she didn’t have a right to grieve (Picture: Supplied)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/p>\n

He had mental health challenges. I thought love conquered everything, that it would be enough. I guess I was naive.<\/p>\n

I received the news by phone; I still can\u2019t answer my mobile today if I don\u2019t know the number. He tried everything to help himself, but some people don’t make it. He was 34 when he died. <\/p>\n

The early stages of grief sent me delirious; I could see him in my apartment after he\u2019d died. I wanted to end my own life at the time, but I had a two-year-old to stay sane for and take care of. If I didn\u2019t have my daughter I would have gone with him. I didn\u2019t want to die but didn\u2019t want to be here anymore. I wanted to be away from everything and everybody; I wanted to be left alone.<\/p>\n

Adam and I had both wanted to go and see the Northern Lights so I took my daughter and drove to Sweden. I don\u2019t know how I managed to drive across Europe, but that\u2019s what saved my sanity. I just left everything. I\u2019d planned to go for a few weeks but I soon realised I couldn\u2019t come back so I stayed for more than five years, setting up a business.<\/p>\n

In Scandinavia, people are very reserved and respectful, and I couldn\u2019t speak the language, so it gave me the space to heal. Nobody knew me, no one was going to ask anything, say anything about it or give me that look. It helped me survive. Then one day it was minus 30 or something, and I was at the petrol station putting petrol in, shaking and frowning and I just thought – it\u2019s time to go back – and went home.<\/p>\n

I now work as a trauma therapist working with neurodivergent people and I support neurodivergent parents and young people build better bonds<\/a> and communicate better. Instead of taking my life, I built a life. They call it post-traumatic growth.\u2019<\/p>\n

*Name has been changed<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

Research has found that these survivors are more likely to think about suicide, which is why Amelia, Emma and their team built up a community<\/a> that provides specialist support via phone, email and an app. They’ve also just released a film by Will Castle<\/a> <\/strong>to shine a light on how it can feel after a loved one has taken their own life, exploring the complexities of suicide-related grief and the generational impact.<\/p>\n

\u2018Our mission is to help people build back a life around their grief by suicide,’ Amelia explains. ‘A lot of people don\u2019t think this is possible – but it is.<\/p>\n

\n
\n\t\t\"Heirloom\t<\/div>
Suicide&Co was set up to help people who’ve lost loved ones to suicide (Picture: suicideandco.org)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u2018I am living proof of this. When people get the support they need to navigate this awful grief they can build a life full of joy again.<\/p>\n

\u2018Suicide rates have gone up for the first time in two decades<\/a> – that\u2019s not the right direction. We need more tailored interventions and systemic change, such as more community confidence in conversations around suicide and loss and better signposting, to start getting those numbers down and getting people who are going through something awful to rebuild their lives.<\/p>\n

‘I now use my energy and grief to drive Suicide&Co forward. I know my mum would be really proud of our work, and she\u2019d love that we\u2019re helping so many people.<\/p>\n

\u2018Grief isn\u2019t linear, and there are challenges daily, monthly and at other points in our lives, but having access to support makes the burden a little easier to carry.\u2019<\/p>\n

To contact Suicide & Co, you can email info@suicideandco.org<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

*Cerel and Sanford<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t\tNeed support?\t\t\t<\/h2>\n
\n

For emotional support, you can call the Samaritans<\/a> 24-hour helpline on 116 123<\/strong>, email jo@samaritans.org<\/a>, visit a Samaritans branch in person<\/a> or go to the Samaritans website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Their HOPELINE247 <\/a>is open every day of the year, 24 hours a day. You can call 0800 068 4141, text 88247 or email: pat@papyrus-uk.org<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Amelia Wrighton was 19 when her mum died (Picture: Supplied) There were two phrases that Amelia Wrighton found unhelpful after her mum died by suicide. \u2018Time is a great healer\u2019 and \u2018At least she\u2019s not in pain any more…\u2019 Both sentiments she could do without hearing. Then there were the insensitive, thoughtless comments, Amelia, 32, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2795,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[9],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2793"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2793"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2793\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2802,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2793\/revisions\/2802"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2795"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/curiousdrive.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}