Every September, suicide prevention gets a moment of global attention: World Suicide Prevention Day was on September 10, a ribbon, a hashtag, a wave of awareness posts.
Then October arrives, and for most people the conversation quietly closes until next year.
That pattern is worth naming because suicide doesn't follow an awareness calendar. Prevention that works is quieter, more constant and starts much earlier than a crisis.
The scale of the problem is hard to ignore.
The World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates that more than 700,000 people die by suicide worldwide every year, and for every death there are many more who attempt or seriously consider it.
Among young people aged 15 to 29, suicide is one of the leading causes of death globally, and most of these deaths occur in low- and middle-income countries, where mental health services are often stretched thin.
Pattern
Behind these numbers is a pattern researchers keep finding: suicide is rarely caused by one thing.
It usually reflects an accumulation of pressures, such as prolonged stress, depression, isolation, loss, substance use, or financial and academic strain, until a moment arrives that feels unbearable and permanent, even when it is neither.
Most people who reach that point don't arrive suddenly.
There is almost always a "before," a period of withdrawal, exhaustion, hopelessness, or feeling like a burden that goes unnoticed or unspoken.
Recognising this "before" is the real work of prevention, and no single September campaign can do it alone.
Some warning signs are more consistent than others, though none is a diagnosis on its own: talking about feeling trapped or being a burden to others, withdrawing from friends or activities that used to matter, giving away possessions, a sudden and unexplained calm after a period of visible distress, big changes in sleep, appetite, or academic performance, and direct statements about not wanting to be here anymore.
Any one of these deserves a real conversation, not a passing comment brushed aside.
Yet ,many people stay silent because of myths that science does not support.
One is that asking someone about suicide puts the idea in their head.
Research consistently shows the opposite: asking directly does not increase suicidal thoughts and often brings relief, because it tells the person that someone is paying attention and will take their answer seriously.
Another is that people who talk about suicide are only seeking attention.
In reality, talking about it is a warning sign, and every mention deserves to be taken seriously.
Language matters
Even our language matters. Many health organisations now encourage saying "died by suicide" rather than "committed suicide," since "committed" carries echoes of crime and sin that add shame for grieving families and for people who are struggling.
So what should we actually do? The most useful thing most people can do isn't complicated, but it is uncomfortable: ask directly.
Not "you good?", which invites a reflexive "I'm fine."
Try something closer to, "I've noticed you don't seem like yourself. Are you having thoughts of suicide?"
If the answer is yes, the next step isn't to fix it alone. Stay with them and listen without judging, arguing, or rushing to advice, because presence matters more than perfect words.
If you can do so safely, help remove access to anything they could use to harm themselves.
Then connect them to professional help as quickly as possible, whether that is a counsellor, a doctor, a crisis line, or emergency services if the danger is immediate.
On university campuses, prevention has to be built into the ordinary rhythm of student life rather than treated as a once-a-year message. Students face a particular mix of pressures: academic workload, financial stress, homesickness, and the fear of failing families who have sacrificed a great deal.
That means counsellors who are visible, affordable, and actually reachable, lecturers and hall staff trained to notice withdrawal rather than just poor attendance, and peer support networks, since students often confide in each other first.
Above all, it means a campus culture where asking for help is read as strength, not weakness.
Ghana has also been shifting its approach.
Its Mental Health Act of 2012 aimed to improve access to care, and in recent years the country has moved to decriminalise attempted suicide, a change that matters because fear of punishment can stop people from seeking help.
September's real value isn't the awareness itself. It is the reminder that the other eleven months need the same attention, given quietly, consistently, and without waiting for a hashtag to make it feel urgent again.
If you are having thoughts of suicide, or are worried about someone who might be, please reach out to your university's counselling service, a trusted person in your life, or a mental health professional as soon as possible.
If you are in immediate danger, call 112 or go to the nearest hospital.
You do not have to carry this alone, and support exists even when it doesn't feel like it in this moment.
The writer is a Biochemistry and
Molecular Biology student,
University of Health and
Allied Sciences (UHAS),
E-mail:
