'Suicidal Hair' Shampoo Pulled From Urban Outfitters

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After social media backlash, Urban Outfitters has pulled a shampoo for “suicidal hair” from its shelves. The product, from U.K. brand Anatomicals, is called “Peachy Head,” which, according to BuzzFeed News, is a reference to Beachy Head in England, a notorious location for suicide attempts. The back of the shampoo bottle shows what appears to be hair throwing itself off a cliff, with the words:

Well, I knew it was feeling a little off colour, but I just put that down to the bad dye job. I never knew my once beautiful hair would actually commit suicide by tossing itself off dramatic white cliffs to the rocks below. Now look at me, completely bald.

Before it’s too late, bring your locks back from a state of complete depression with this conditioning peach shampoo. It’s hair heaven on earth.

When Twitter user Sam Missingham tweeted at Urban Outfitters asking the company if it was an acceptable product to market towards teenage girls, social media outrage ensued. “Suicide is not hip,” another user chimed in. “Or a fashion choice.” Urban Outfitters, which has a history of selling controversial products, eventually responded directly to Missingham on Twitter, a day later, saying the product would be removed from all retail stores immediately.

Anatomicals co-founder Paul Marshal told BuzzFeed News the company will “probably not” continue selling the product, which has been on sale for years. “We want to bring smiles to people’s bathrooms,” he said. “We never set out to offend.”

According to the most recent data from Samaritans, in 2013 there were 6,233 registered suicides in the U.K.

Urban Outfitters responded to The Mighty’s request for comment with the following:

Earlier this year, URBN became aware that ‘Shampoo for Suicidal Hair’, a product manufactured by a UK company, Anatomicals, was offered for sale by Urban Outfitters in the UK. Although the product’s name is a humorous attempt to market a shampoo for hard-to-manage hair, we reevaluated and felt it was not appropriate and it was pulled from the Urban Outfitters website. Regrettably, some of the product was not pulled from our retail stores. We have instructed all of our UK  stores to remove the product immediately.

If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

The Crisis Text Line is looking for volunteers! If you’re interesting in becoming a Crisis Counselor, you can learn more information here.

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To the Person Sitting in a Hospital After a Suicide Attempt

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I was you.

I sat in the ambulance watching my heartbeat on the screen. Hoping it would stop. Knowing I was caught. Knowing it would keep going. Looking at my vitals I knew weren’t normal. So many questions, so many emotions, so many thoughts. I wanted it all to just stop. I was you. In the hospital, staring at the walls. Wondering how I got there. Wondering why I was there and alive instead of at home and gone.

I know you’ve got five million thoughts in your mind right now. Please take a minute to catch your breath. Let the swarm of chaos in your mind settle down as you come back to your senses and breathe.

I know you’re hurting. 

I’m so sorry it got to this point. I’m so sorry you didn’t find help before you felt this hopeless. I hope now things will change for the better. I know they can. Please give them a chance. Take a few minutes to just breathe. In and out, slow and steady. Feel that little tiny bit of peace coming into your mind. Cling to it. Let your raging thoughts calm and your emotions settle. Take a minute to process everything that just happened. A lot can happen in a short amount of time. You won’t be able to process everything right away. That’s OK.

Please give yourself another chance. Please give life another chance. Please keep trying. You’re worth something in this world. You’re treasured and valued more than you know and more than I can put in words. You’re a wonderful person, I have no doubts you are capable of doing amazing things.

Don’t worry about anyone else for a while. Focus on you. Tell anyone and everyone around you what you think you need. You know your body and you know yourself. You’ve got to speak up. You’ll probably be in the hospital for a while. Find a nurse or clinician or social worker or chaplain with whom you feel comfortable opening up to. Talk about how you’re really feeling and what you need to change so that gets better.

Don’t be afraid to cry. There’s no time more emotionally intense than right now. You ran out of hope. You tried to give up. It didn’t work. You’re here and you didn’t plan to be. Life can feel very confusing and directionless at this point. That’s OK. I know there’s a seemingly endless stream of questions in your mind, but you can’t even get past the first one to figure out the rest. It’s OK to fall apart. It’s OK to vent. It’s OK to sob into your pillow. It’s OK to not be OK. You’re allowed to be selfish right now. You’re allowed to be real. You don’t have to hold it all together. There’s probably someone in your room 24/7. That’s a big adjustment. If you need to, turn the other way and pretend they aren’t there. Let out all of your raging emotions. Let your body process what just happened, with or without the help of someone else. Do whatever works best for you.

Think about your 5-year-old dream of life. The one where you wanted to be the president and live in the White House. The dream you had before things felt so hopeless. There’s nothing too big or elaborate. Figure out a way to make the closest thing to that dream as possible come true. Find what you want more than anything and do everything you can to make it happen. Focus on that goal and don’t let anything slow you down. It’ll help to give you some hope over these upcoming weeks and months.

When you go back home, find things to do to take care of yourself before anything else. For me, that was plugging in time with my friends. For you, maybe it’ll be a time to take a walk or get a massage. Make it work out so that you’re always looking forward to something. However often that might be for you, make it happen. If you can’t go back to school or work right away, it’s OK. You don’t have to worry about that right now. Let people take pressure off of you. Let people try to help. If you need something, ask. 

You can get through this. I know because I did. You’re worth something in this world and I’m so glad you’re safe. Find someone you can call if you feel like that again. Because you’re an amazing person and you’re going to do great things. This is just a speed bump. It might slow you down a little, but don’t let it stop you. Find what makes you happy and go for it. You’ve got this.

I believe in you.

If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

The Mighty is asking the following: Write a love letter to another person with your disability, disease or mental illness. If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio. Check out our Submit a Story page for more about our submission guidelines.

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Playing the Blame-Game After a Suicide

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Man holding a rabbit
Steve

When I decided to go public with Steve’s story and write his memoir, I knew I was going to have to steel myself against those who misapprehend the motivations of a person who dies by suicide, and thereby stigmatize that person’s death, and the mental illness, which is the real cause of death. In looking for a cause, family members and close friends may try to place blame — on themselves, on others and even on the loved one lost.

We need to ask ourselves, is this a form of “blaming the victim”?  In a sense, anyone that loved Steve is a victim, a victim of losing a person so dear to them in such a sudden, tragic way and by his own hand. Unlike when loved ones are left behind after death by illness, old age or tragedy, those left behind after the loss of a loved one by suicide are called “survivors.”

And survive we must, left with so many questions that will never be answered; “Why? He had so much going for him…” “What if I had said…?” “What if I didn’t say….?” “What could I have done differently?” At times these questions still haunt me, however, for the most part, I have come to peace with my actions.

In their quest for answers, some will feel the need to place blame on someone else in order to wrap their own minds around why their loved one took his or her life. Any mental health professional I have spoken to (and there have been many) has told me there was nothing anyone could have done differently to prevent Steve from taking his life. He had already tried once before and failed, so it seems out of his hopelessness, he was determined to try again. That is how insidious this disease of the mind is.

My healing journey in trying to come to grips with Steve’s tragic ending involves raising awareness of mental health issues, and in the process, raising some money to help an organization that is trying to help those who are suffering from PTSD and depression.  Others may choose to channel their grief into bitterness, blame and anger. Yes, I too was in that place in the early days after Steve took his life. To comprehend such a tragedy, it is human nature to want to blame someone, falsely trying to alleviate our own grief.

When someone suffers from mental illness, sometimes that person’s loved ones try to rally around him or her. The problem is, we are not mental health professionals (even they could not help Steve in the end) and what we may have tried to do or say had no impact on the final outcome (Steve taking his own life). Also, as it is when multiple people are involved, there are differing opinions on what is best for our loved one. That was the way it was with Steve and those who loved him. It was another tragedy in the making. We all loved Steve and he loved us all, yet the family was torn apart. That in turn, added to Steve’s angst and further tortured his diseased mind.

I have said many times, I have no answers or solutions. I am no expert on mental illness, but what I’ve come to realize is that this disease can manifest itself very differently in people. The symptoms and outcome in one person can vary greatly from another. I can only share my experiences and perspectives on my life with Steve in the hope that others will realize they are not alone in what they are experiencing.

In the end, there is so much collateral damage from mental illness. In Steve’s case, it was the taking of his own life. In the case of his loved ones, it is the continuing damage to what were previously close and loving relationships, as blame is substituted for answers that don’t exist.

Steve and Jean
Steve and Jean

Follow this journey on Slipped Away.

If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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A Day in the Life of a Mother Dealing With Suicidal Thoughts

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When the alarm goes at 7 a.m., for a split second after waking up I feel OK, maybe even happy. Then it hits me — I’m still alive and my chest suddenly feels as though an anchor has landed on it. It is a struggle just to move, but I have to put on my brave face and wake my daughter for school. Everything is a drag, walking hurts, breathing feels unnatural and wrong. Sometimes even the sound of my own voice leaving my mouth feels false. I question whether I am real.

When I get to the school gates, I feel a sense of dread, panic, a constant anxiety. Walking through the playground, it feels as though every single pair of eyes is staring straight at me, judging me, when all I really want is to just disappear into nothing. I put on a smile as other parents say, “Hello, how are you?” I always lie. “I’m fine.” I say, but inside I’m screaming “Help me!” My favorite part of the day is watching my little girl skip into her classroom, because I know in there she will be surrounded by happiness and safety. She won’t be stuck under the black storm cloud that hovers above my head. I love her so much. 

I commute on the London underground tube. Every morning as the train approaches, I feel the air sucking me towards the tracks, the lights enticing my every fiber, encouraging me to jump — maybe this will be easier than having to live in this constant turmoil. I never do it because I am all that my little girl has. That doesn’t mean I don’t think about it every second of every day. On the train, I wonder if the other people feel the same. Do they notice me? Can they feel my hatred towards myself? Do they see the scars on my arms? Each one a cry for help.

At university, I sit with my friends, I laugh and smile and talk about the weekend and my daughter and I pretend I’m having a great time living out my youth in London. It is all a lie. It gets harder to lie as time passes by, but I think if I don’t lie they won’t like me anymore, they will leave me, I will be alone and I will have even more reason to die. I try hard to listen to my lectures, but I find myself zoning out. All I can think about is keeping a straight face, no crying, no digging my nails into my arms, I am not allowed to show them who I really am. I hear someone laugh and joke about suicide being attention-seeking. Sometimes I wish it was. I wish I could get the attention I need to get the help that I need, but it is the opposite. I want to hide away and never reveal how I feel. 

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I manage to make it to the end of the day without killing myself, even though I feel like somebody has cracked open the top of my skull and poured cement inside my body. I ache, I hurt all over, but there is no reason why. I think back on the time I was sectioned by the police for trying to jump off a bridge. Even then I was able to put on a normal face and pretend like I was just fine. They believed me and let me go home the same day.

I’m scared to tell anybody how I really feel in case they take my daughter away from me. I wish I could just turn it off and be normal. I hate it when people ask “but what is normal?” Normal is not wanting to kill yourself. At night I lay awake for hours, with thoughts running through my mind of all the hurt, abuse and abandonment I have experienced in my life. I never sleep.

Maybe one day, I can look back on this period in my life and be thankful I kept on grinding through each day, but for now, hindsight isn’t possible, neither is rationality. This is who I am and my existence is painful. 

Although my situation hasn’t changed and I still feel like I do, I have found a huge relief in slowly talking about my experiences. It can be hard to open up, especially with the stigma attached to suicide, but talking opens up the doors for recovery and I know that it can be possible to reclaim life. If you feel this way, I’d urge you to talk, whether it is with somebody you know, someone online or on a crisis helpline. It could just save your life, giving you an opportunity to find services that can help you get through the darkness. You are not alone, however lonely you may feel. 

If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

The Crisis Text Line is looking for volunteers! If you’re interesting in becoming a Crisis Counselor, you can learn more information here.

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Why I'm Telling My Mental Health Story After My Brother-in-Law's Suicide

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I imagine depression, anxiety and other mental health disorders as a dark shadow looming over you, whispering your biggest insecurities, worst fears and deepest scars in a continuous loop. Sometimes the voice mimics people from your past, even loved ones. The worst and most frequent is your own voice. How do you ignore your voice? You isolate yourself because you feel inadequate, but the more you isolate yourself the louder it becomes. You want help and often know you need it. Someone who is depressed isn’t always capable of opening up. Asking for help means burdening someone with your problems. It’s also risking they wouldn’t understand and might treat your issues as insignificant. It will pass… until it doesn’t. 

Brian Heng was my brother-in-law for many years, and he called me his sister even after my divorce. I watched him graduate from high school, and we had our noses pierced together. A wonderful uncle, Brian loved each of his nieces and nephew dearly. He loved writing poetry, drawing and painting. On October 23, 2014, at the age of 35, after a life-long battle with depression, Brian took his own life. He left behind his mom, his dad, his stepmom, two brothers, three nieces, one nephew, three sister-in-laws, a ton of devastated friends and other extended family members. There is not an easy way to sit down with your children and explain their uncle took his own life.

Man wearing a green hat and a green button up shirt.
Brian
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I found one of my old journals while searching for something else in a closet. I thumbed through my words, written around age 18. “I enjoy imagining my suicide. The shot, footsteps running, finding my body. Calling everyone and telling them. The funeral. Mom and Dad would be devastated.”

I read my words, remembering how it felt to hear the dark shadow whispering to me. I had never told Brian about any of it. If he had known my story, would he have talked to me? I will never know the answer to that question, but I know Brian would never want anyone else to follow his path.

The journal entry I read wasn’t uncommon. I skimmed some of my older books, finding similar entries at low points in my life, as early as age 14. I wrote poetry about death, day-dreams about razor blades, pills and guns. At one point I had even cut. These things were all symptoms of something bigger, which I was unable to see at the time. Around the time of the journal entry mentioned above, I was 18, and living in my first apartment all by myself in another state. My dad and stepmom lived in one state and my mom lived in another. I was completely on my own, but I was independent and stubborn. After a series of poor decisions, the results of self-destructive behavior that pushed away most of my friends, I lost my job and feared I would lose my apartment. Feeling like a complete failure, I attempted suicide.

Sitting in my dark apartment, I thought about my parents, my friends and everything I would be leaving behind. I picked up the phone in my haze and called my best friend. I don’t remember what I said to her, but she was at my door within the hour with her mother.

A rescue squad took me to the hospital. “You’ll remember this for the rest of your life,” one of the nurses said. I’ll never forget that line. I realize now they were trying to scare me so I would never try to harm myself again. While my life has been far from perfect, it has been filled with perfect moments; amazing people, laughter, creativity and love. I am thankful every day to be here. If I would have succeeded, my daughters never would have been born. Raising them has been the most wonderful and challenging thing I have ever done. I tried not to discuss what happened. I worried people’s opinions of me would change if they knew about what I had done. 

I think one of the best things you can do for someone with any sort of mental illness is stop trying to fix them, and let them know you will be there no matter what happens — no judgments. All of us were so determined to get help for Brian that we lost sight of what he really needed — our love and support. There was so much more to him than his depression.

I feel those of us who have struggled with any kind of mental health issue have to be brave, uncomfortable, and therefore we must be vocal. Silence only serves the illness, feeding the isolation and self-destruction. After his death, I realized it was time to share my story in order to help others. I realize now I am proud of all aspects of myself, the dark and the light — even the shadows.

A little boy and girl lay on the floor with a framed picture of a man.
Peyton and Ayden, with a picture of their uncle. Photo by Photography by Bethany.

For those who have never suffered from depression, anxiety or other mental health disorders, here is a link with more information about mental health disorders: Suicide Prevention Toolkit.

A version of this piece originally appeared on Family Fusion Community

If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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What the Media Shouldn't Forget When Covering the Rising Suicide Rate

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Text reads I Lived over the image of a wave.
Image by Chris Maxwell.

In June 2006, at 23 years old, I survived a suicide attempt. I felt hopeless, futile, unloved, unworthy, without a future. I thought there was nothing else I could offer the world, or the world could offer me. So I tried to die.

A CDC report released last week shows a steady 24 percent increase in suicide rates from 1999–2014. The media are already running in some dangerous directions with this information.

The National Action Alliance for Suicide Prevention, in partnership with several leading suicide prevention organizations, released a statement in response to the CDC report, urging safe, hopeful media coverage:

“The CDC data remind us that there is more we must all do to prevent suicide in our communities. However, it is important to be aware of data that indicates suicide prevention is effectively occurring daily, in ways that are rarely finding headlines. For every one person who dies by suicide in the U.S., there are approximately 278 people who have moved past serious thoughts about killing themselves, and nearly 60 who have survived a suicide attempt, the overwhelming majority of whom will go on to live out their lives. These untold stories of hope and recovery are the stories of suicide prevention.”

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Ten years after my suicide attempt, I can say with confidence that life is good. It was worth sticking around for. I wish I could say I was cured of the depression, self-injury or of the suicidal thoughts, but I’m not. They still pop up occasionally.

The difference is that I have tools now I didn’t when I was 23. I have a community. I have people to turn to. So, even when my mind is trying to sabotage me, even when I think I’m the most useless, burdensome human on the entire planet, I know better. I use my tools: I feel my feelings; I wait it out; I get a giant, too-expensive Starbucks coffee and I wander around; I talk to my wife or my friends or my mom or my therapist; and eventually, it’s OK again. It’s not always better right away, but it’s OK enough to live through for another second, minute, hour, day, week.

I think you get it: we can live. It’s not easy. We’ll still suffer. But we can live.

Please remember when you read the sensational stories, the gross stories, the emotionally manipulative Shonda-style stories, the media can do better than this. They can report the facts, but they can also instill hope in those who need it. We all need it sometimes.

Today is a day when we need to remember those we’ve lost, and those who continue to live.

As loved ones of those lost to suicide, as those with lived experience of suicidal thoughts and attempts, as loved ones of those who struggle every single day, our voices are important. Our voices can inform and guide productive change. Let’s raise them, because our stories can save lives.

If you want to raise your voice right now, get on Facebook, get on Twitter, Tumblr, MySpace (wherever it is that you go and talk to people), and post something about how you lived through your own suicidal thoughts, through your own attempt or through the loss of someone you loved. Use the hashtag ‪#‎ILived‬ (as well as ‪#‎suicide‬ — activity on that one is skyrocketing this week) and this beautiful image made by Chris Maxwell.

Roar! This is how lives get saved.

If you’re in a rush, here’s a quick, pastable tweet to use with the image below: “For every person who dies by #suicide in the US, 60 will survive a suicide attempt. livethroughthis.org #ILived”

If you’re feeling suicidal, please talk to somebody. You can reach the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1–800–273–8255 or Trans Lifeline at 1–877–565–8860. If you don’t like the phone, check out Lifeline Crisis Chat or Crisis Text Line. If you’re not in the U.S., click here for a link to crisis centers around the world.

For true, honest, hopeful stories of those who lived through suicide attempts, take a look at Live Through This.

If you’re a journalist and aren’t sure how to report on suicide, here are recommendations compiled by the world’s top suicide prevention organizations: http://reportingonsuicide.org.

This piece originally appeared on Medium.

Lead image by Chris Maxwell.

If you or someone you know needs help, see our suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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