Lunch in Maytree's kitchen...

From the Director, Paddy Bazeley:  Christmas comes but once a year and when it comes it brings good cheer.  But not for everyone. In fact, for many people it brings memories of loss and sadness, loneliness and exclusion: a huge contrast to all the razzmatazz, glitter and family spirit associated with the festive season.  It’s not difficult to imagine how personal misery can become so overwhelming in the face of this, and how suicidal thoughts can become dominant.

A common cry is that Christmas has lost its meaning.  I certainly felt that until last Christmas Eve, when I was at Maytree.  Two guests had arrived that morning: a young woman and an older man.  They didn’t know, but they’d both been sitting in the same hospital’s A&E department and both had been referred to us.

That evening, having settled the guests in, I went to my room at the top of the house.  The night sky was magical: very dark, a full moon, one bright star, white fluffy clouds racing by, then more stars and... a police helicopter patrolling overhead.  Back to the reality of London life.  But I knew that two people who the night before had been contemplating ending their lives were now in the safety of Maytree.

The next day, both guests were at the kitchen table beginning to talk quite openly about themselves.  The young woman described her fear of madness, of “breaking into small pieces and not recovering”.  This appeared to startle the other guest.  He replied, “But that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling – I didn’t know anyone else could feel like that.”

At that moment something wonderfully cathartic had occurred.  The young woman said she felt for the first time in a very long while that she had been able to give something to someone, and the older man said he felt less alone and abnormal about how he’d been feeling.  It’s not unusual for amazing things to happen at Maytree.

Tavistock study begins...  The evaluation into Maytree’s service has now begun. To mark the third anniversary of the house opening a study was commissioned to look into the merits of the Maytree model, and how,  if at all, it could be improved.

A team from the Tavistock and Portman clinic, led by Professor Steve Briggs, has started talking to staff and present and past guests.

The study is also looking into referrers: who refers, who doesn’t, and why.  The work has been funded by City Parochial Foundation and will be completed in the New Year.
...So watch this space !

Two views from the house Inside Maytree:

Two guests...  One Sunday morning a few weeks ago the telephone rang.  A hesitant and confused voice stumbling over his words said that he had, right then, been on the internet searching for how best to kill himself and had come across the Maytree website.  The phone call ended an hour later with him agreeing, hesitantly, to come to Maytree to explore things further.

Later that day, after many tears shed over how his whole life had collapsed, he agreed to stay on at Maytree.  He hadn’t slept or eaten for days, and it showed.  Though relieved he was still very confused, and was still, largely, convinced that suicide was the best, the only way out.  This despite having no previous history of depression or mental illness.  A few days later, looking transformed, he left us, resolved that he wanted to live, to face the mess and to sort things out.

The week before a woman had rung, also on a Sunday, having overdosed the previous night.  Being sent home from A&E had been the last straw in a catalogue of physical and mental health problems that seemed never ending, which had had the attention of every NHS service imaginable but which always left her feeling that no-one understood - just as she had felt all through her childhood.  Four days later she left, restored to her more usual, dogged self but unaccountably emotional after crying for the first time since aged 10, saying she felt someone had understood her for the first time ever.

A volunteer...  Four days doesn’t really sound long enough to make much difference to someone’s life, and sometimes when a suicidal person arrives at Maytree I find myself wondering how much can be done in such a short time.

Some of our guests come here in a bad way, dishevelled, tired and lost, often direct from A&E.  Others come in and seem so chatty and bright on the surface that you wonder what is wrong. I’ve found that like “the rest of us” suicidal people can be up and down, noisy and quiet, and they don’t fit a stereotype.

Talking it over in Maytree's tranquil garden...

The one thing they do have in common is why they are at Maytree - because they have thoughts of killing themselves.  And they know what Maytree offers - the chance to talk about it. The four day limit works well when it comes to talking, as it seems to concentrate the mind.  Once the initial settling-in period is over people often just want to talk. Not everyone, and not always so easily or immediately, but in most cases they grasp the chance.  For some this is their first opportunity.

I’ve been struck by our guests’ honesty.  It takes a lot to talk about the tough things in your life - your failings, your darkest thoughts, your fears - as you sit around a kitchen table or on a sofa, with people you have only just met.  But this seems to be the key: being listened to and being able to say these things; being accepted. It can be tough, draining and tearful, but there is often a point in a guest’s stay where things “click”, and you realise they have found some sort of peace, or hope for the future.

There do seem to be some recurrent themes to how our guests have got to such a low point - love, family, childhood and debt issues seem to crop up - but I’ve also realised that some people have just been very unlucky.  When it comes to saying goodbye it can be difficult, sometimes because you are worried about what will happen to a guest, sometimes because you’ve got on well with them and you’ve seen a real change.

As we wave goodbye and they move off into the traffic on the main road you wonder what would have happened if they had not come to stay at Maytree in the first place, and you realise that together you can actually do a lot in four days.