Rural suicide: 'If we don't talk, people won't know there is help out there'

Suicide is a growing problem in Ireland, but it’s worst in rural areas, where the recession has cut deeper than elsewhere – and men find in particular find it difficult to cope

OFFALY’S COUNTY coroner isn’t usually given to headline-grabbing public pronouncements. But on Monday, as he examined one of five cases of suicide, he issued the starkest of warnings.

“This is just an example of the rampant and really serious situation in Ireland, and in particular in the rural areas, where there seems to be an increase in these suicide deaths,” Dr Brian Mahon said. “There is a very serious situation abroad in the country, it has not improved.”

The five cases of suicide were all men, all young or middle aged, and all from the midlands area.

One was a 32-year-old carpenter and father of one struggling to cope with debt and the potential repossession of his house. He took his own life in the local woods. Then there was a 38-year-old who took his own life in the back garden; his mother said he had attempted suicide twice before and unsuccessfully sought to have him admitted to a psychiatric hospital.

A 50-year-old married father from Tullamore suffering from depression died by suicide in a field close to his home. Another man in his mid-50s who lived alone walked into his garden shed, where his body was eventually found. Finally, there was a 35-year-old single man who had a drug problem and was suffering from depression. He took his own life in the garage behind his home.

THE CORONER’S COMMENTS come at a time of mounting concern about suicide rates right across the country, but particularly in rural Ireland. At least 520 people took their own lives in 2009, an extraordinary increase of almost 25 per cent in a single year. Provisional numbers for the first quarter of last year indicate that just as many died in 2010.

Job losses, the economic downturn and gnawing financial insecurity are placing new strains on vulnerable people – and middle-aged men in rural Ireland in particular.

Suicide risk factors like depression, economic worries and alcohol or drug abuse are present across society but they are often heightened in rural areas like the midlands by social isolation.

In fact, counties such as Offaly or Roscommon have suicide rates of up to twice those of more urban counties such as Dublin. Farmers, for example, are three times more likely to die by suicide compared with those in professions such as accountancy, engineering or law.

For people such as William Prior, the coroner’s findings this week came as little surprise. He chairs the Phoenix Project in nearby Portarlington, a charity recently established to provide advice and expertise to people in financial dire straits.

“We’re seeing people under desperate pressure,” says Prior, an auctioneer. “I meet people in tears, people ready to burst out crying. They find it very hard to even come into the office sometimes. We have all sorts of people, but mostly it is self-employed men trying to sort out their house or what’s left of their business.”

There is no shortage of people looking for help. Towns such as Tullamore and Portarlington, along with their hinterlands, are among those hardest hit by the downturn. The recession’s bite is deeper here because of the heavy dependence on the construction industry, while the largely empty retail parks and vacated shops are a reminder of how the ripple effect has strangled the wider economy.

For those in difficulty now, they have fallen to earth with a shuddering thump. Where once they may have run successful businesses or employed large numbers of people, many are readjusting to joblessness, falling into arrears with mortgages and trying to support a family.

“These are people in crisis. We’re just about able to cope with the numbers. And we’ve done suicide-awareness training because we know the kind of pressure people feel under,” he says. “The first thing we say to them is, ‘Open your post, all your bills, all your letters. We’re here to help you, and we can deal with your situation as long as we know what your problems are. We can always help.’”

For many families struggling to come to terms with suicide, they will never know the problems faced by their loved ones. Instead they are haunted by unanswered questions.

That’s how Celine Knight feels. She lost her 26-year-old son to suicide in recent years, as well as her grandson, and is deeply troubled by the deaths of other men in the area.

“It is happening all the time, but it’s not always highlighted. It’s not like car crashes, where you see it on the news. This is hidden, yet it is an even bigger problem,” says Knight, who lives with her husband in Seskin, close to Portarlington railway station.

Her son David had never given any obvious sign that he was troubled or under stress before he died, she says. If anything, he was the same bubbly, good-humoured young man he always was. “He loved music, especially Andrew Lloyd Webber, and was always looking for an excuse to sing. His party piece was a Christy Hennessy song he sang with his sister. He was a real home bird. He wasn’t that much into drinking, but loved football and never missed the chance to watch Laois.”

The night he died had seemed like any other. He arrived home from work in Dublin on the 6.10pm train. He arrived in the door of the kitchen chewing gum and telling his mam about the Christmas party he had booked for his work colleagues and that he was going to meet a girl he knew from a previous job for lunch the next day.

“There didn’t seem to be anything on his mind. I was reading by the fire later and he said he was going out to buy some cigarettes. He put on his coat and looked back at me when he was walking out the door. I didn’t think anything of it . . . I never saw him again.”

When he didn’t return home, her husband went out looking for him. A short time later he came home with the colour drained from his face: a train was stopped at the station because there had been a suicide on the track.

“I just remember that night crying and crying, grabbing his pyjamas, collapsing into his bed and crying,” she says.

Through counselling with groups such as Grow and bereavement support through the Living Links group, she has come through the darkest days of grief. She hopes her story will alert other parents to the dangers around suicide and to make sure young men feel they can talk or open up with someone they trust.

“I worry about men, and I fear there will be more deaths because of the financial situation. But if we don’t talk about it, and don’t open up these issues for conversation, then people won’t know that there is help out there.”

JOSEPHINE RIGNEY IS the Health Service Executive’s suicide resource officer for the midlands area. She is helping to roll out an initiative to raise awareness about suicide in schools and companies, as well as among unemployed people and the general community.

“We want to make sure that anyone who find themselves in a challenging place knows that there is help out there,” she says.

In contrast to the often fragmented world of suicide-prevention groups, the work is being co-ordinated and targeted by health authorities to ensure it has the most positive impact possible. Hundreds of people have done these courses, while hundreds more are due to take part in them over the coming months. There is certainly no lack of willingness to raise awareness about the issue, but many professionals and support groups grumble about the state of mental-health services. Long-promised community-based mental-health teams are thin on the ground, while it can take months to see a psychologist.

But support services can and do work. Just ask John, a midlands native who attends weekly support meetings held by the mental-health group Grow. Three years ago he fell into a downward spiral of anxiety and depression linked to pressure at work.

“I just got involved in a very stressful job and started drinking very heavily to block out the stress,” he says. ” I ended up having a breakdown. I gave up my job, left my apartment, isolated myself from people I knew. I was a train wreck.”

He ended up being hospitalised for eight weeks. After he was discharged he began attending Grow meetings once a week. It has, he says, changed his life. “When you have a mental-health problem you feel as if you’re the only person on the planet to ever suffer like that,” he says. “But I look around the meetings and see everyone – shop owners, engineers, garage owners – seeking help. We just share our experiences. We don’t feel judged. There’s no stigma.” His advice to anyone facing a crisis like he did is simple: ask for help. “It can be very difficult, but it should be no different to looking after your physical health . . . We are all vulnerable. As for me, I just take each day as it comes. I don’t get paralysed by fear or anxiety any more. Yes, I’m out of work myself, but I know things will improve.

“You just can dwell on the negatives for too long. There’s always hope.”

If you or someone you know is in crisis and needs someone to talk to, the following organisations can help: Grow (grow.ie), 1890-474474, info@grow.ie; 1Life (1life.ie), 1800-247100, text HELP to 51444; Samaritans (samaritans.org), 1850-609090 (08457-909090 in the North), jo@samaritans.org; Phoenix Project, French Church Street, Portarlington, Co Laois, 1850-203040