Suicide is often spoken about in hushed tones — misunderstood, judged, or pushed aside as if it’s too heavy for public conversation. But silence costs lives. We need to challenge those perceptions and confront the reality: behind every statistic is a human being, a story, and a ripple effect of grief that never truly ends.

I know this firsthand. During the isolation of COVID-19, my partner — my soulmate and best friend — lost his battle with mental health and took his own life. No words can capture the devastation that followed. The sheer agony that I felt. Losing him left a hole in my heart that will never fully heal.

But here’s what society often overlooks: those who die by suicide are not weak, selfish, or broken beyond repair. They are human beings who carried pain that became unbearable. And those of us left behind are forced to navigate both grief and stigma. We are told to “move on,” or worse, our loved ones are remembered only for how they died rather than how they lived.

I also know the other side of this story. When I was younger, I attempted suicide multiple times. I once stood on live train tracks. I put myself in dangerous situations, took reckless risks, and believed there was no future worth living for. And yet, here I am. Not because I was stronger than anyone else, but because in those moments, something — someone — intervened. Because healing is possible, even when the darkness insists otherwise. No matter how consumed you feel, there is ALWAYS another answer.

That’s why I’m writing this. Not to center my story, but to speak directly to anyone who feels like they’re at the edge right now. I want you to know this:

• Those thoughts you’re carrying do not define you.
• The fact you’re still here means you have already survived more than you give yourself credit for.
• And no matter where your story began, you still hold the power to decide how it continues.
• People DO care.

I’ve found purpose in keeping my partner’s memory alive — through charity work, through raising awareness, and through my music. My first single, released with the support of Vicky Hamilton, is dedicated to him. That purpose doesn’t erase the pain, but it gives it direction.

If sharing this can prevent even one person from taking their life, then his memory lives on in hope.
We need to stop treating suicide as a taboo subject, or dismissing those who struggle as weak. We need to recognize the bravery it takes to keep living when your own mind feels like the enemy. We need to stop asking “Why didn’t they just…?” and start asking “What can we do to help?”

If you are struggling: please, reach out. You are not a burden. You are not alone. Better days can and will come.

You can listen to the song I wrote in his memory, and follow my journey here:
👉 https://linktr.ee/Emmawhartonlive

If you’re in crisis, please know there is help and reach out:

• Samaritans (UK & Ireland): 116 123 (free, 24/7)
• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US): 988 (24/7)
• Crisis Text Line (US, UK, Canada): Text HELLO to 741741
• Lifeline (Australia): 13 11 14
• International hotlines: https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/

Let’s rewrite the narrative together. Suicide is not weakness. Struggling is not shameful. And survival is not only possible — it is powerful.

With love,


Written by @EmmaWharton

Founders note:

Mental health in our time is not a private battle. It is a civilizational condition. We are living in an age of accelerated comparison, digital exposure, economic instability, fractured identity, and spiritual exhaustion.

The human nervous system was not designed for this velocity. Many people are silently overwhelmed by a world that demands constant performance while offering very little grounding.

What makes suicide especially tragic is not only the loss itself, but the silence that surrounds it. The quiet suffering. The unspoken despair. The social instinct to reduce complex human pain into simplistic judgment. We must understand that despair is not weakness. It is often the symptom of carrying too much for too long without being truly seen.

Emma’s words remind us that survival is not accidental. It is an act of courage that often goes unnoticed. To wake up when your mind feels hostile is courage. To continue when meaning feels distant is courage. To speak openly about grief is courage.

At THELIFTEDVEIL we stand firmly against the stigma that isolates people in their darkest hours. If we are to evolve culturally, we must create spaces where suffering can be spoken about without shame. We must build environments where asking for help is not seen as failure, but as intelligence.

Mental health is the defining humanitarian issue of modernity. And survival, especially now, is sacred. With respect and solidarity.

Written by Emma Wharton