Isaac’s story

“I was always aware that I was different and that I was treated differently. Growing up was difficult. First of all, as LGBTQ+ people, we grow up in families that don’t mirror who we are. We grow up in heterosexual families and we don’t necessarily have the same experiences, advice and guidance.

“My parents just never spoke about or acknowledged that I was LGBTQ+. I think my family would say they aren’t homophobic but they don’t really talk about it, which feels oppressive. If you don’t have people in your class or your neighbourhood that have similar identities, it can be really hard to understand who you are.

“As a teenager, my struggle to accept my sexuality, as well as feeling discriminated against in society because I was gay, affected my mental health. It led to depression and anxiety and I’ve struggled with my mental health for all of my adult life. It was very difficult to get mental health support that addressed sexual orientation or identity – there were just so many walls.

“When I initially struggled, I went to statutory services, but because of the lack of respect and dignity, and the lack of sensitivity and care taken, I just knew they weren't places I would go back to because I ended up being re-traumatised. When I’ve felt like I don’t want to be here, support services have made me feel so bad that it reinforced that feeling rather than helping me. This is because they really struggle to identify what is different and needs to be different in their approach.

“So I was lucky I found the voluntary sector organisations that were set up to support LBGTQ+ community - I had three years of therapy that got me to a good place for a while and then when I struggled again, I went back but that service no longer existed, so I had to try statutory services again.

“I never really thought that I would call Samaritans, if I’m honest with you. But one day, I was going through a particularly difficult time with a relationship breakdown and housing issues, and didn’t really know where to go. I tried to reach out to services but it wasn’t going anywhere and I was in so much pain to just be here, and I couldn’t bear it. When I found a Samaritans leaflet, I called. I had a conversation with a volunteer and I just felt listened to. I didn’t feel judged or that I was a trouble. With Samaritans it never felt like I was wanting too much and I just felt really heard.

“I’ve since called Samaritans quite a few times and always have good experiences.  For example, during Covid, my world became so much smaller as I was in a high-risk group which meant I was stuck at home and didn’t have access to my social networks. I felt so isolated, like I was wading through treacle and that at some point I would just break. When everyone around me was also struggling with Covid, I didn’t want to burden anyone, so I called Samaritans.

“That sense of just having someone sit alongside you feels like someone is trying to figure out the problem with you. They aren’t rushing you, which you get in the NHS, and they are checking in to see that they are really understanding. There was so much empathy – and that was alien to me — so that’s why I would call again and would tell anyone to call Samaritans too if they are really struggling.

“It felt very restorative – that in this moment, I can get through this because I've got someone who’s not going to judge me, they’re not going to worry about me, they’re just going to be alongside me and they’re just going to listen to me.

“I thought it was great that Samaritans was trying to understand what needs to change for the LGBTQ+ community to lower suicide rates. I decided to share my experiences as a lived experience advisor to help inform Samaritans because although I might never see these changes in my lifetime, in the future, when that young 17-year-old gay girl or boy or trans person needs support – something could be different.

“In the last couple of years, there have been people in my own life that have died by suicide. I think there is still a lack of attention paid to why it’s happening and what can be done differently. If people can hear about what needs to be changed from the very people who are going to be accessing services, it should educate those delivering them so we can access more effective support in the future and reduce suicides in our community.

“I think suicide is still a taboo in lots of communities – people are talking more now about mental health or depression but the topic of suicide isn’t something we speak about. So people who are feeling really low don’t know where to turn. The more the LGBTQ+ community talks about it and brings it into the open, the more people feel comfortable and can respond to their own community members, and help people realise that they’re not alone.”

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