Why do so many middle-aged men commit suicide?

Also read: How do you proceed when your brother takes his own life?

Women also suicidal

It is now clear that it is important that benefit providers make such interventions, says Gilissen. “Such as the occupational health and safety doctor or the UWV.” Social assistance or unemployment benefits are also relatively common among men who commit suicide. They often had that benefit for more than five years. “It may be that men already have mental problems and are therefore unable to work and receive benefits,” says Gilissen. “But also that if they end up at home, they become lonelier. That will differ per man.” According to Gilissen, the research also shows that in the case of long-term physical problems, the GP has the task of asking about mental health.

They didn’t see a way out, but there usually is

Renske Gilissen researcher 113

The researchers made all kinds of combinations of risk factors. For someone from Limburg or North Brabant who is divorced, the suicide risk turned out to be twice as high as average. And psychological problems turned out to be by far the most dominant factor: a low income meant a slightly increased suicide risk, which, combined with mental problems, turned out to be ten times higher. “There is not one cause, reason or reason why men commit suicide,” says Gilissen. “It is always an accumulation of factors.” Many of the working men appeared to work in the ‘rental and other business services’ and ‘transport and storage’ sectors.

By the way, women should certainly not be forgotten, says Gilissen. For example, they attempt suicide more often than men and have suicidal thoughts just as often. But men often use more lethal methods.

Questionnaires for surviving relatives provided insight into why men from risk groups commit suicide more often. This could be a childhood trauma, or stress factors such as financial worries, loneliness or relationship problems. “The overarching thing is,” says Gilissen, “that they saw no way out. And that is a shame, because it is usually there.” Some of the men did not seek help: because they experienced a taboo on asking for help, were ashamed or did not want to be dependent on others.

Frank Lemmens (57),
customer manager in the real estate world

‘Around the age of thirty I got the same cocktail as my father’

“When I was nineteen, my father took his own life. He is illustrative of the statistics that you still see: he was 47, poorly educated, and was a hardworking farmer’s son. When he moved to Maastricht, he started working in a factory; that was not his environment at all. He then came into conflict with my mother, who decided to file for divorce. He was depressed and sick at home. He had an enormous sense of responsibility: the head of the family must not fail, must not whine. This was undermined by the divorce. For him, then. That was his truth.”

“I got the same cocktail around the age of thirty. My youngest son was born with a serious heart defect and regularly had to be put into a coma. There was a divorce and I lost my job and home. Then at a certain point I thought: what am I even doing here? I didn’t trust anyone anymore. And then it’s damn difficult to have faith in a future, and to open up to others.

“All my peers were busy with house-tree-little-animal. They’re in their honeymoon, I thought, I’m not going to bother them. When I did knock on the door of a male friend, I was quickly told: it will be fine, come on, let’s have a beer. Women were more empathetic, conversation was also easier with highly educated people. Perhaps because they can analyze other people’s stories better. I worked in the construction industry for a long time, where it was old boy’s bread and butter. Then you don’t easily say: something is bothering me.

“I started having all kinds of thoughts that I didn’t want to respond to. I had to reset myself and then went on holiday to Crete. The first few days I felt very lonely, but then the owner of the hotel took care of me and his family. They didn’t ask about my story, and yet they cared about me. They gave me unconditional love. That made me realize that I had to open up to others again.

“Around the age of seventeen, my son’s heart regularly had to be stopped and restarted with electric shocks. He found that terribly scary. The next time he didn’t want to be resuscitated, he said. Fortunately, this has not proven to be necessary so far. Through him I learned: no one chooses death, but they do choose a life without pain.

“Men are increasingly talking about their feelings, but we are not there yet. In September I gave a lecture at a Man in Mind Meetup in Roermond, during Suicide Prevention Week. 95 percent of the audience was female.

“More attention should also be paid to surviving relatives. People with suicidal thoughts need to realize this: what does it mean for the people you leave behind? Not only have they lost their loved one, but they also have so many questions. I don’t want to minimize those thoughts, but my father has been dead for forty years now and they still bother me.”

Peggy Wismans (59),
systemic coach and mental health practice assistant at the GP

‘He could give, give, give enormously’

“Certainly here in Limburg there is a taboo against your husband committing suicide. People think: ‘How can you do this if you have everything done?’ He was fit, had a job, wife and three children. A large social network. Apparently nothing wrong.

“When Pieter was two, his four-year-old sister Nellie died while crossing the street. This was not discussed in the farming family. To relieve his parents, Pieter unconsciously started playing the ideal son. He was also good at learning, playing football and making music. His brother Geert did not really belong anywhere and had few friends. His parents forced Pieter to take his brother with him when he went out or went on holiday. After we got married, Pieter distanced himself a bit. In 2005, Geert took his own life. Afterwards we heard that Geert always wondered whether he was to blame for Nellie’s death. He thought he should have paid more attention.

“Pieter threw himself into arranging matters to relieve his parents, and then ended up in depression himself. When his father was already suffering from dementia, he once said: ‘Geert’s death should never have happened’, pointing to Pieter. That got into his head. At that time he was in a kind of fog, I could not reach him. To the outside world he was extremely active. He could think of things for the carnival activities down to the smallest details. But at home he lay exhausted on the couch. He could give, give, give enormously, at his own expense.

“He worked himself over the head. He was a teacher and had just been recruited to a school for special primary education. It was supervised, so there were strict rules. For example, all children had to read in silence for fifteen minutes in the morning. That didn’t work, Pieter thought. The children with such diverse backgrounds – autism, ADHD, problems at home – should be able to have their say, he thought. He was summoned several times a week and eventually put out on the street.

“On Christmas Day that year, 2015, it was still very pleasant, the fog suddenly seemed to be gone. I told him that dozens of times. But on Boxing Day he sat up in bed: what have I done to you, he said, I haven’t been there for years. I couldn’t talk him out of that. On ‘Fourth’ Christmas Day he didn’t come home anymore.

“After a year, our youngest also struggled with himself. He mainly suffered from the heaviness: the many visitors that came, it was always about Dad. She lived at home the longest. I myself had high blood pressure and heart palpitations. Then I ended up with a systemic coach and what happened then was so bizarre. Through family constellations it became clear that my main focus was on the dead. My daughter felt unseen. I didn’t take good care of myself, sat on the couch for hours, always found a reason to drink, I didn’t exercise much and often got takeaway food. I had to choose to live my own life again. If my husband had had a systemic coach, I think he would still be there.

“Now the four of us are doing reasonably well. It has certainly brought us something positive: we make much more conscious choices. We mainly do things that give us energy.”

Photo’s Merlin Daleman.