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Mindset: A story of love and hope, for Ben and me.

Updated: Jul 9, 2023


Stories are powerful, especially the ones we tell ourselves about ourselves. And a single conversation can save a life.


This is a story about a conversation I should have had with my brother 19 years ago. If I had, I believe he would still be with us today. It’s a conversation that would have been a catalyst for us to rewrite his story better together. A process for me to understand some of his pain, and to learn how to love and support him more on his journey of recovery.


Content warning: This article talks about mental health conditions and suicide. Mental health conditions are treatable, support is available, and recovery is real. You are not alone and if you need support, there are links and resources at the bottom of this article.


This is a story for Ben, for me, and anyone else who sometimes feels unloved and unworthy.


He died last year, so there is regret, however, no blame. There is only a little gnashing of teeth here my friends - we did the best we could with what we knew. But (it’s a big but), just because we did the best we could in the past, does not mean we shouldn’t try to do better today. And that is what I am doing; sharing a lesson in love and loss, in the hope that in a small way our story will help you improve yours.


Let’s start by traveling back in time 19 years ago, to Hall Street, Bondi Beach where my wife Jo and I had settled back into our unit after our honeymoon. One day I received a call from mum and dad. I remember two things from that call, the sentence; “Your brother’s had a nervous breakdown* ”, and then my feeling of disbelief as my older bro sobbed into the phone, broken. I remember how strange and confronting it felt.


*Today the preferred term is mental health crisis.


A few days after that call Ben moved in with Jo and I (think of it as a late wedding gift 🎁), and for the next 4 months he lived with us. Jokes aside, that was a gift. One that I didn’t fully appreciate at the time, because I was too wrapped up in my own world to see the opportunity we had been given.


About two weeks after Ben moved in with us, I can remember a kind-of disbelief that so soon after his breakdown he seemed almost back to his ‘normal’ fun-loving self. I can remember having discussions with Jo along the lines of; “Ben seems OK? Hard to believe he had a breakdown. He seems pretty normal right?”


After that life did get back to ‘normal’. Jo and I moved down the road and Ben took on the lease of our unit. Over the following years he seemed happy, we all grew up a little, Ben moved back to NZ and got married, we both had kids and life moved on. Until about 4 years ago when I received another phone call. This time from his wife telling me that Ben was threatening to kill himself. Like the phone call from Mum and Dad 15 years prior, the feeling I had on this call will stay with me forever.


Jump ahead 4 years to Monday, August 22 2022 and Ben took his own life in Auckland, NZ. Ben’s death was not my first experience with suicide. Early in 2021, we lost Rich who was the best man at my wedding and Godfather of our beautiful son. In November 2019, we lost Rhys, a good friend from High School. And in January 1993, one of my best mates, Loudy hanged himself in Whitianga, NZ. Ben identified his body.


Four mates - four suicides. I have more experience than most with suicide, but I am a lucky guy, and my story is not that different to others because suicide is all too common a tragedy. The good news is that causal factors are treatable, change is real, and there is always hope.

And whilst we cannot change the past, I do want to revisit it by going back to 2004. Because that was a pivotal moment in time, where I know in my head and heart, we could have helped Ben create a new narrative.




A new narrative he would have written, so that his story in this lifetime did not end as it did. Which brings me to the point of this story, a story with a touch of regret, but mostly of love and hope. Because if I had my time again, I would have done things differently.


I would have gotten more involved in his treatment and recovery. I’m not a healthcare professional, but I know that with the right treatment program and support, mental health conditions like his (anxiety and depression) whilst complex, can be successfully treated.

Whoever he saw, whatever medication he was given, and therapy sessions he had, all I can remember is that he seemed to recover quickly. Either I’ve blocked these memories out, or after a month or two, life moved on… Other than the everyday stuff we do with our mates, and checking in on him once and a while to see if he was ‘feeling OK’, I didn’t do much else. In hindsight, to state the f#$king obvious, he was not OK.

19 years ago I would have taken a more active support role in his treatment.


I would have spent more time with him and listened better. Sometimes, when our friends are in despair, simply being there with them is enough. At other times we can cheer them up and offer solutions. In my experience, when Ben was in a dark place, I should have spent less time with my ‘Mr Fixit Hat’ on, and more time with my ‘Piglet Hat’ on (at the end of this article, you can read how Piglet does a great job supporting one of his best mates Pooh by simply being there with him during one of Pooh’s difficult days). For those interested, you can watch me unpacking listening with empathy more in Episode 7 of The Grief Train (recorded on Instagram one month after Ben’s death).


I would have told Ben that sometimes I also feel unworthy and not good enough. This one’s a hard one for me to talk about, because there is still a part of me that thinks admitting I have feelings of unworthiness is a weakness. Even though I know being vulnerable can be a superpower (Brené Brown anyone?!), my inner-critic tells me that people will laugh at me.


That's when I remind myself that Ben’s inner-critic killed him. In the weeks before his death Ben often talked about his inner-critic. The fact that no matter what he did, it wasn’t good enough. His inner-critic also compared himself to others, focusing on his weaknesses when making comparisons (that’s what inner-critics do).


If I had my time again, I would have been braver. I would let Ben know that I also had an inner-critic (lucky for me mine’s small and mostly stays in his box next to the imposter monster). And that together we could figure out how to learn to accept and then quieten those shitty little voices of uncertainty in our heads.


When I spoke to Ben’s psychologist after he died, she told me how sometimes he felt so alone. When I shared this with his close friends, of which he had many, along with me they were surprised and saddened. Sidenote: I don’t believe I will ever understand how Ben felt during his darker battles with the black dog (which is probably a good thing). However, I do believe that by sharing my own fears and vulnerability, I could have connected with him better.

By sharing my own feelings of unworthiness, I believe over the years I could have shown Ben that he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was.


Finally, I would have tried harder to lead with love. I would have opened my heart to Ben more and loved him better.


Since losing Ben I have dug deep into what makes the world go round, and as the song says; it’s not money, it’s not power or prestige, it’s love. Love makes the world go round. Love for others is important, however, if you don’t start by practicing self-love and loving kindness, you risk wrapping a sick and twisted narrative around yourself… Suffocating and drowning in unrealistic and unreal stories of unworthiness and self-hate. For most of us, these stories of unworthiness do not suffocate us, however, they can get in the way of living a good life. The great news is with loving kindness and support we can step out of the trance of unworthiness*.

So, first I would have led with love. Because if you believe as I do, that Ben’s inner-critic killed him, then love becomes the beacon that would have brought him home. The thread we could have built on to help Ben love himself better. Once he learned to love himself better, he would have reclaimed himself.


And then we would have the privilege to see more of his big beautiful smile for longer.


*Links below to a few great resources on meditation and loving kindness from Sharon Salzberg and Tara Brach.

There you have it, a story of love and hope. And importantly four actions below that I think are a good place to start when supporting a loved one in need 💚.

  1. Lead with love.

  2. Be vulnerable and share your own stories of doubt and uncertainty.

  3. Listen better and spend more time sitting with your friend in need.

  4. Learn what you can about treatment and support programs, and get involved where possible.


Thanks for your time.


Cheers, Gareth

PS: Remember that when the sun goes down the stars come out, so don’t lose hope because you are not alone. If you need support or are worried about someone, ask for help. In Australia, call Lifeline on 13 11 14 and in NZ 0800 54335. Links are also in my bio to Lifeline Aotearoa, Lifeline Australia, and Beyond Blue Australia where there are people who will help.


Additional content and support below:

Mental health conditions are complex and can be self-harm risk factors. Importantly, if someone has multiple risk factors that does not mean that they will have thoughts of, or intentionally self-harm. Mental health conditions are treatable, support is available, and recovery is real. You are not alone. If you need support, in Australia call Lifeline on 13 11 14, and in NZ 0800 54335.


Helpful links:


AA Milne’s A Difficult Day:


“Today was a Difficult Day,” said Pooh.

There was a pause.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Piglet.

“No,” said Pooh after a bit. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“That’s okay,” said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend.

“What are you doing?” asked Pooh.

“Nothing, really,” said Piglet. “Only, I know what Difficult Days are like. I quite often don’t feel like talking about it on my Difficult Days either.

“But goodness,” continued Piglet, “Difficult Days are so much easier when you know you’ve got someone there for you. And I’ll always be here for you, Pooh.”

And as Pooh sat there, working through in his head his Difficult Day, while the solid, reliable Piglet sat next to him quietly, swinging his little legs…he thought that his best friend had never been more right.

Copyright AA Milne


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