Sometimes, our greatest achievements stem from the darkest places. “I always think of a quote by Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor,” says Clare Milford Haven. “He said, ‘Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing: your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation’. That became my mantra when James died.”
On 15 December 2006, Milford Haven’s life changed for ever when her eldest son, James, tragically took his own life after a rapid descent into depression, following a minor operation just 11 days previously. He told his mother he was worried the operation had gone wrong (it hadn’t) and even asked for help at a walk-in centre, confessing he was suicidal. He was referred to A&E but left without being seen. A letter was sent to his GP by second-class post; by the time it arrived, James was dead.
“It is my belief that James actually did not wish to die,” says Milford Haven, her tears still raw when she talks about her son. “I think he just didn’t know how to get through the complexities in his head. James was outwardly a really kind, funny, sporty, attractive young man. He sought help, but he was shunted from pillar to post. Each place he went to was more clinical than the next. He didn’t need to be seen by a doctor or a nurse, he just needed to talk to somebody who understood exactly what he was talking about, and reassurance from a trained, professional therapist.”
This was the catalyst for Milford Haven to set up James’ Place, a charity that offers free, live-saving support to men in suicidal crisis. “We started a fund in his memory in 2008, 18 months after James died,” she says. “As you can appreciate, our lives were turned upside down. We felt very strongly that we didn’t want other families going through what we were going through. I had this idea in my head: what sort of service, what sort of place, what sort of environment would have saved James’ life?”
The result is two dedicated centres in London and Liverpool, the first of which opened in 2018; a third is hopefully coming to Newcastle this autumn. The spaces are designed to be as welcoming, un-clinical and calm as possible, with art on the walls, quiet gardens and soothing colours. “I feel that the environment really respects, values and nurtures the men who come to us, and I don’t like to compromise on that,” says Milford Haven. “If James had walked into one of our centres, I know you and I would not be having this conversation right now.”
The charity is currently actively fundraising, with a campaign to raise £10 million to open more centres. “The plan is to have five James’ Places within the next five years, and to be able to access as many men as we can. Hopefully, we’ll open in Birmingham and Bristol. We don’t want anyone to be more than two hours away from a centre,” says Milford Haven, the passion in her voice evident. “With that money, we can open more centres and sustain the ones we already have – and then, essentially, we’ll be a national charity.”
The road to building James’ Place into a fully-fledged, valuable asset has been a monumental task, but Milford Haven has dedicated herself completely to the project. “It has been a big leap, going from being a grant-giving service, to being operational and employing people. Those 10 years between launching the fund and the first centre were well spent, learning and finding out where the gaps were.”
For Milford Haven, one of those gaps is in the way suicide is typically thought of in the UK – as the desperately sad result of longstanding mental illness. “But the majority of men who come to us with suicidal thoughts and ideation are there as a result of a collision of events that have happened in their life: debt, a relationship breakdown, the loss of a job,” she says. “It creates the perfect storm, bringing someone to a place where they have given up. People who have more complex mental-health problems aren’t perhaps right for us, and may need more intense, long-term therapy; we do more crisis intervention.”
Male suicide is shockingly prevalent, and yet still under-discussed; according to the ONS, in 2021, 74 per cent of suicides were men, and it is the most common cause of death for men aged between 20 and 49 in the UK. Many have argued that there is a correlation between these figures and society’s endorsement of a toxic masculine ideal; others say that initiatives like Let’s Get Men Talking and wider media awareness have moved the needle in the direction of a more positive future. “I think men hold pride and shame in much greater esteem than women do,” says Milford Haven. “I think we can overcome those things more easily, and I think we have better support networks. I have noticed that people talk about suicide much more openly since we started the charity, but it’s always been a taboo, with lots of stigma surrounding it. It’s a very complex subject.”
For her, being open about what happened to James was key to skewering that taboo. “We could have buried our heads in the sand, brushed it all under the carpet and pretended James had had a terrible accident,” she says, “But we knew what had happened. There was no point in covering it up. I felt we had a duty to try to help other people going through this.”
It has been 17 years since James’ death, and 15 since Milford Haven began her mission to help other men in crisis. It has been an act of devotion, and of catharsis, she explains. “I’ve met so many other people who were left in the same way we were, with lots of questions, guilt, anger, despair and vulnerability,” she says. “The parents I have met have been the most lovely people. That has been hugely helpful to me, because I have felt less alone. What we’ve done has given a sort of purpose and meaning to what happened.”
For Milford Haven and the rest of her family (she has two other children and two step-children with her husband, George Mountbatten), James’ death has been world-shattering, but the charity has made it easier for all of them to keep his memory alive. “It was so difficult, but it was something I felt so strongly about,” Milford Haven says, tears in her eyes once more. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about James, but it’s too painful for me still. But because of James’ Place, I get to talk about him every day.”
Men in suicidal crisis can contact James' Place by phone or by email, Monday–Friday.Anyone of any sex or gender can contact Samaritans, day or night, 365 days a year. You can call them for free on 116 123, email them at jo@samaritans.org, or visitthe website to find your nearest branch.