The Human Cost of Contribution – Part 5

Changing the Narrative

September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day. This year's theme is “Changing the Narrative” It challenges us to move beyond silence, stigma, and misunderstanding and start more open, compassionate conversations.

In previous segments of this series I wrote about people who changed the world. While we think first of their contributions, the culture of their time failed to protect them.

We remember Nikola Tesla for electrifying the modern age. We remember Marie Curie for transforming science and medicine. We remember Alan Turing for helping shorten the Second World War and laying the foundation for modern computing and helped us to imagine thinking machines (AI).

What we remember less readily is the suffering that accompanied those contributions. In the case of Alan Turing, he would die by suicide at the age of 41.

We celebrate the inventions, discoveries, and achievements. We are less comfortable discussing the isolation, prejudice, misunderstanding, and personal struggles that often existed alongside them. You might say that history preserves what people contributed to society far more effectively than it records what society gave back to them….or didn’t.

The same can be said of many people around us today.

In the OPS, there are people whose contributions are highly visible while their struggles remain unseen. They deliver projects, support colleagues, solve complex problems, protect public interests, and help improve the lives of Ontarians. Yet some may also be carrying grief, loneliness, mental health challenges, family pressures, stigma, discrimination, or the exhausting burden of feeling misunderstood.

For neurodivergent employees, this burden can be compounded by the effort required to navigate systems and expectations that were not designed with them in mind. For others, the challenges may be entirely different and equally invisible. No single factor causes suicide, and no single story can explain it.

One truth remains. People do not experience their struggles in isolation from the environment in which they live and work.

That is why changing the narrative matters.

The narrative cannot be limited to crisis response after a tragedy occurs. It must also include belonging, inclusion, psychological safety, compassion, and the everyday choices that shape whether people feel connected to those around them.

Suicide prevention is not solely the responsibility of health professionals. It’s influenced by coworkers, leaders, friends, families, and communities. All of us.

The question is not whether we can solve every struggle another person faces.

The question is:

How many people have we depended on while failing to understand what they were carrying?

That question is not about famous scientists, inventors, or mathematicians.

It is about us.

Ontario's overall suicide rate historically sits around 11 to 12 deaths per 100,000 people.

About 14% of Ontario high school students report seriously contemplating suicide each year.

The recent OPS Employee Engagement Survey I looked at shows a decline in every mental health and inclusion metric. I find that concerning.

World Suicide Prevention Day reminds us that changing the narrative is not just about speaking differently about suicide. It is about speaking differently about each other. It is about creating workplaces where people are valued not only for what they produce, but for who they are.

It’s about replacing assumptions with curiosity, stigma with understanding, and silence with conversations that could change a life.

Prevention is not only the responsibility of clinicians, crisis lines, or mental health professionals. It belongs to all of us.

Every time we include rather than exclude, listen rather than dismiss, support rather than judge, we help create the kind of community where people do not have to carry their struggles alone.

And perhaps that is the narrative that most needs changing.

Not that some people are suffering. But that they are suffering by themselves.

Prevention is not the exclusive domain of clinicians, crisis lines, or mental health professionals. I have much gratitude for the programs such as the Employee and Family Assistance Plan as well as our various peer groups and communities within the OPS. They are important. They helped me feel like I belonged when I didn’t otherwise.

Our culture plays an important role and much of it is shaped by leadership.

As leaders, we influence far more than priorities, budgets, projects, and performance. Through our words, our decisions, and our everyday interactions, we help determine whether people feel respected, valued, included, and safe enough to ask for help when they need it.

Most people who are struggling do it privately.

They continue to lead teams, deliver results, solve complex problems, and support others.

Their performance may remain strong long after their sense of connection has begun to erode.

That colleague who appears to have everything under control may be carrying far more than anyone realizes.

For leaders, that conversation begins long before a crisis.

It begins when we create environments where people do not have to choose between being successful and being themselves.

It begins when we value belonging as much as performance.

It begins when we recognize that inclusion is not an initiative, accommodation is not a transaction, and psychological safety is not a slogan. They are the conditions that allow people to thrive.

History is filled with stories of extraordinary individuals whose contributions were recognized while their struggles went unseen. We cannot change those stories.

But we can influence the stories that are being written today.

Years from now, few people will remember the deadlines we met, the presentations we delivered, or the reports we approved.

They will remember how we made them feel.

They will remember whether they felt seen.

Whether they felt they belonged.

Whether, during a difficult chapter of their lives, someone noticed.

Leadership leaves many legacies.

The most important ones may not be the work we accomplished, the goals we met or the titles we earned.

It may be the people who are still here because the culture we helped create reminded them that they mattered.