When people think about suicide, we often imagine a sudden decision, a single act. However, in reality, suicide is usually the end of a long road. For many, that road begins with anxiety and depression — two states that can feel like constant companions, whispering doubts, weighing us down, and draining colour from our world.
Left unchecked, it doesn’t just make life difficult; it can convince us that life isn’t worth living. Many believe they have to carry that weight in silence. While that silence can feel like the safest option, reaching out is often what makes the difference.
How Anxiety and Depression Pave the Way
Anxiety and depression are powerful forces, each shaping how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Anxiety trains the body to expect danger, keeping us permanently on edge. The mind runs through endless “what ifs,” and the body responds as if every possibility is a threat. Sleep may be restless, concentration fragile, and the smallest challenges can feel like looming disasters.
Depression pulls in the opposite direction. It convinces us that nothing will ever change, that no action is worth taking. Energy levels drop, motivation fades, and the things that once brought joy or meaning can feel flat or pointless. Even simple daily tasks, like getting out of bed or making a meal, can feel like too much of a chore.
On their own, each of these conditions can be overwhelming, but together, they feed into one another. Anxiety heightens the sense of danger, while depression removes the sense of possibility. The result is a toxic cycle that narrows our world, shutting down hope and leaving us feeling trapped.
When our minds and bodies are pushed past their limits, the patterns created are hard to break without support. In this state, the risk of suicidal thinking can naturally increase; not because we feel life truly has no value, but because exhaustion and despair distort our ability to see a way forward.
What’s Happening in the Brain
When anxiety and depression take hold, the brain begins to function differently. The amygdala — the brain’s alarm system — becomes overclocked, constantly scanning for threats, even in safe situations. This keeps our nervous system stuck in survival mode, and stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline flood the body, keeping our muscles tense, our hearts racing, and disrupting our sleep.
At the same time, areas of the brain linked with motivation, focus, and pleasure — the prefrontal cortex and the reward centres — start to quieten down. Activities that once felt enjoyable no longer bring the same response. Concentration becomes harder, making even small decisions feel overwhelming.
This imbalance creates a devastating mix: the system is screaming that something is wrong, but the part of the brain that usually provides perspective, hope, and emotional balance struggles to respond. It’s like having one foot pressed on the accelerator and the other unable to reach the brake.
Living in this state becomes exhausting. Days can feel like a constant uphill battle, with no relief in sight. And often, it isn’t that we want our life over; it’s that the effort required just to keep going feels impossible. Suicidal thoughts can then begin to manifest as a way of stopping the exhaustion rather than a genuine desire for life to end.
Passive Suicide and Suicidal Ideation
Not all of us who are struggling will say, “I want to die.” Sometimes it shows up in quieter ways, often referred to as passive suicide; a slow letting go of life rather than an active wish to end it. This might look like neglecting our health, ignoring medical needs, or letting important responsibilities slide. It can appear as taking risks we wouldn’t normally take, such as driving too fast, drinking heavily, or pushing boundaries with little concern for consequences. For some, it’s an indifference that creeps in: whether they live or die feels irrelevant.
Others experience what is known as suicidal ideation: thoughts about ending life. These can vary in intensity. For some, they may be fleeting, passing through in moments of distress before fading. For others, the thoughts can become more frequent, more vivid, and may even progress into detailed planning. Both ends of the spectrum are serious, and both signal that our brains are under immense strain and that support is needed.
One of the most damaging myths is that talking about suicide makes it more likely to happen. In truth, the opposite is true. Silence gives those thoughts more power, while open and honest conversation helps to relieve some of their weight. Talking creates space for connection, perspective, and support, all of which can be life-saving.
Breaking the Silence
Fear is a pattern, not an identity. None of us were born anxious or depressed; these are responses our systems learned over time, often as a way to cope with pain, trauma, or overwhelming circumstances. What begins as an attempt to survive can become a repeated loop, shaping how we think, feel, and behave.
Suicidal thoughts are no different. They are not a reflection of who we are; they are signals of pain, of systems that have carried too much for too long. However, with the right support, these signals can change. New patterns can replace the old ones, and our brains and bodies can begin to find balance again.
History is full of people who once felt trapped in despair but later rediscovered joy, connection, and meaning. And while change rarely takes place overnight, with the right support, it can happen. Lives that once felt unbearable truly can become lives worth living again.
Why Talking Matters
One of the most powerful steps in breaking the cycle is talking about what is happening inside.
Anxiety and depression often push us toward silence, convincing us it is safer to hide how much we’re struggling, to keep it private, and carry it alone. And while isolation may feel protective in the moment, over time, it adds to the weight.
Connection is the antidote, and even a short conversation can bring relief. Reaching out — whether to a trusted friend, a family member, a GP, a therapist, or a helpline — can interrupt the downward spiral. Putting thoughts into words helps to release some of the pressure, making space for perspective and for support to come in.
For those of us supporting someone who is struggling, the role isn’t about finding the perfect words or having all the answers. What matters most is being present: listening without judgement, showing patience, and reminding the other person that their life matters. That they matter. Sometimes it’s the simple act of being heard and understood that creates the turning point.
Finding Strength In Support
Suicidal thoughts don’t make us weak. It means we’re in survival mode, and we’ve been carrying more than anyone should have to. Those thoughts are not our identity or a reflection of our worth; they’re a sign of how heavy things have become. They are a call for support, and answering that call can be the first step back to ourselves.
If you need to talk to someone right now, help is available. In the UK, the Samaritans can be reached on 116 123, free of charge, at any time of day or night. In the US, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available by calling or texting 988. For those living elsewhere, local crisis helplines can provide the same immediate support — help is always closer than it feels.
No one has to face things alone, and talking about feelings could save a life.