Lost Futures: A Personal Reflection on Poverty, Mental Health, and Hope

When I was growing up, poverty wasn’t just something we lived with — it was the air we breathed. It shaped how we saw ourselves, what we thought we could achieve, and, for many, whether we believed we had a future at all.

Mental Health Awareness Week invites us to open up important conversations, and I want to speak to something that is too often hidden: how grinding poverty eats away at mental wellbeing — and how it doesn’t have to be this way.

The Samaritans’ Lost Futures report shows in stark detail what many of us have long known in our bones: poverty, inequality, and hopelessness are potent risk factors for suicide. In Northern Ireland, where I live and work, these factors intersect with a legacy of conflict, political instability, and economic hardship. But while the statistics are sobering, they don't tell the whole story. Behind every number is a life that could have been different — and still can be.

Growing up in a household scarred by addiction, instability, and financial strain, I learned early that shame clings to poverty like a second skin. It tells you that you are less-than. It tells you not to dream too big. It tells you that asking for help is a weakness. And too often, society echoes those lies back to us.

But here's the truth: poverty is not a personal failing. It's a structural issue — shaped by policies, decisions, and systems that either widen or close the gaps between us. If we are serious about supporting mental health, we cannot focus only on treating individuals in crisis. We must also change the conditions that push people to the edge in the first place.

That means rethinking the conversation.

• Policy is mental health. Anti-poverty strategies, living wages, affordable childcare, education reform — these are mental health interventions every bit as important as counselling and crisis lines.
• Hope is mental health. When people see real pathways to stability, opportunity, and dignity, hope returns — and hope saves lives.
• Community is mental health. I know from my own journey that where statutory systems fall short, community, compassion, and connection can catch people. We must nurture and fund these vital networks, not just applaud them.

For every child growing up today in a home like mine was, we owe them a future that is not predetermined by postcode, poverty, or pain.

In a world weighed down by complexity, it is easy to believe change is impossible. But mental health is not only about services — it is about systems, and systems can be changed. They must be changed.

This Mental Health Awareness Week, let’s imagine a Northern Ireland — and a wider world — where every life is valued, where every potential is nurtured, and where no future is lost to despair.

It’s time for upstream thinking, courageous leadership, and radical empathy.

Because every single life is worth fighting for — including yours.