Saving a life at New Street station
This morning, someone tried to die but a stranger wouldn't let him
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide references
This is not my usual newsletter. I hope it doesn’t appear too self indulgent, but I wanted to put something that happened earlier down in words and this seemed a good place to share it.
It was something I found profoundly upsetting but also oddly uplifting. Let me tell you about it.
Before I do, if you are struggling or feeling suicidal, please seek help.
Samaritans (116 123 in UK and Ireland) operates a 24-hour service available every day of the year. If you prefer to write down how you're feeling, or if you're worried about being overheard on the phone, you can email Samaritans at jo@samaritans.org.
Childline (0800 1111) runs a helpline for children and young people in the UK. Calls are free and the number won't show up on your phone bill.
PAPYRUS (0800 068 41 41) is a voluntary organisation supporting teenagers and young adults who are feeling suicidal.
Mind (0300 123 3393) is a charity based in England providing advice and support to empower anyone experiencing a mental health problem. They campaign to improve services, raise awareness and promote understanding.
This morning, during commuter rush hour, a smartly dressed young man climbed onto a wall over the train lines at New Street station and prepared to jump.
In the split second it took me to compute what was happening, a passerby, swift of foot and determined, lunged at him.
Grabbing him by the coat, he yanked him backwards to the pavement.
By the time I got to them, the rescued man had just about stopped struggling. Defeated, he was crying hopeless tears, snot running down his chin, sobs expelled from deep inside him.
Another passerby had raced over - he was ringing 999 as I joined the man and his rescuer on the floor.
Together we made an odd quartet, rescue guy, phone guy, desperate guy and me.
Over the next few minutes, the bustle of the world around us receded. We sat, talking quietly, stroking his head, touching hands, helping him talk. Phone guy was the practical anchor, ensuring help was coming, and I slipped into mum mode with words of reassurance and asking what had been going on to leave him so hopeless.
He spoke of recent cataclysmic grief, and not wanting to live any more. He’d been struggling for a long while - on pills for depresssion but “the doctors can’t do anything else can they? Nobody cares really.” Death would be better for everyone, he’d concluded.
Rescue guy gave him a cuddle. “Mate, you’re going to be fine. We’ll get you help.”
Rescue guy added: “Look at me, I haven’t got a home or a job, we just have to keep going though.” Everything he owned was in a rucksack on his slim shoulders.
He had been heading into the station for a wash, ready for his day, when he saw the figure clamber up the wall from a distance and “knew exactly what he was about to do”.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he said to our new friend. “I know it feels hopeless now but it will get better,” he soothed.
Another passerby came over - she had not seen what had unfolded but recognised distress. We filled her in briefly, and she immediately knelt down and grabbed the man’s hands in hers.
Ordering him to look at her and holding his gaze tight, she told him: “I lost my brother to suicide 30 years ago and there is not a day goes by when I don’t ache for him. Please know there is always someone there for you, no matter how hopeless it feels.” She scribbled her phone number on a scrap of paper and thrust it into his hands. “If it gets too much again, ring me. Anytime. I mean it. Any time.”
Moments later the police were with us, swiftly followed by paramedics. Our friend, scared and anxious, tried to run - we urged him to stay, and gradually he calmed again.
We stayed with him a few minutes more, until a young female officer had developed a rapport and our friend let go. He promised he would take help if any was offered. I kissed him on the head and walked away.
Phone guy came over to thank me. I thanked him back. I’m not sure what we were thanking each other for but it felt really important to say.
Rescue guy said he was off now to try to get some money out of passers-by to pay for some food and somewhere to kip for tonight. We laughed awkwardly. I gave him a big hug and the means to get a breakfast and a brew. I told him he’d just done an amazing thing. He’d saved a life.
I headed into the station to get on my train and get on with my day and suddenly burst into tears. Delayed shock I imagine. A few hours on, I am worried for desperate guy but also recognise the profound if fleeting connection with strangers that unfolded and am grateful for it. When the world sometimes seems full of pain, there is always hope.
One last thing - next time you walk by someone who is on the streets, maybe stop and have a chat, check on their day, treat them like the fellow human they are. One day you or a loved one might need them, more than you could ever imagine.
Samaritans (116 123 in UK and Ireland) operates a 24-hour service available every day of the year. If you prefer to write down how you're feeling, or if you're worried about being overheard on the phone, you can email Samaritans at jo@samaritans.org.
How very sad. I’m sorry for the distressed man in particular. Thank you for sharing this.