Why This Matters to Me

I’ve always been someone who watches.

Even as a little girl, I would sit back and observe people. The way they spoke, the things they didn’t say, the energy in a room. I’ve always found human behaviour fascinating.

But sometimes, it’s also heartbreaking.

Because when you really watch, you start to see the quiet things. The silent suffering. The emotions people tuck away and carry without ever speaking about them. The moments where you know something isn’t right, but nothing is said.

And I think that’s where this all started for me.

I wanted to show that what sits beneath the surface matters. That silence can build, and build, and sometimes lead to devastating impacts on individuals, families, and entire communities.

And at the same time, I’ve seen how something as simple as a conversation can shift everything.

As human beings, we don’t like difficult conversations.We avoid them.

We avoid the elephant in the room.We avoid people.We avoid feelings we don’t want to sit with.

If we don’t have the answers, we step away.If we have a different opinion, we stay quiet.

It’s often just easier not to go there.

But history, and life, shows us time and time again that if there had been just a little more communication, just a little more honesty, things could have been different.

That’s why seeing the impact of this film has meant so much to me.

Because it’s not just being watched.It’s opening doors.

People are talking. Really talking.

I still walk into rooms and sometimes forget that not everyone is as comfortable speaking about mental health and emotions as I am. For many people, these conversations are confronting. They’re raw. They’re something they’ve spent a long time avoiding.

And I have to remind myself of that.

Not everyone is at the same point in their journey.

There are families who still can’t speak about the loved ones they have lost to suicide. The grief is too heavy. The words don’t come.

And that’s okay.

In their own time, those conversations will unfold. And I hope that this film is gently bringing people one step closer to being able to speak about those they’ve lost with love, not just pain.

Travelling around and sitting in these rooms, hearing people’s stories, it does take a toll at times. I was warned about something called vicarious trauma, that hearing so many experiences can sit with you.

And there are moments where it feels heavy.

But more than anything, I feel privileged.

Privileged that people trust me enough to share their stories.Privileged that they feel safe to open up.

Because sometimes it is easier to talk to a stranger than it is to someone close to you. There’s less fear of judgement. Less worry about being a burden.

And that’s something I hear again and again.

When I ask people why they don’t reach out, the answer is often the same.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

But the truth is, you are never a burden.

The people who love you would always rather be there for you than be left with the pain of losing you.

You are far more important than the fear of being too much.

In a world that feels quite divided at times, with so much uncertainty and noise, I keep coming back to something simple.

We all have the ability to make a difference in someone’s day.

It might be a conversation.It might be checking in.It might be a kind word.

It might be as simple as noticing someone.

Or even just taking a moment to step outside, breathe, and find something good in your own day.

Because sometimes, the smallest act of kindness or acknowledgement can mean everything to someone else.

And if this film is helping people take even one small step towards connection, towards conversation, towards support, then it’s doing exactly what I hoped it would do.

Leila