Clive’s Journey: Mental Health, Resilience, and Navigating Systemic Barriers

A Story Close to Home

This is the story of Clive—a friend, a father, a charismatic presence who carried a warmth that drew people to him yet battled with inner struggles that would go unseen by most. His journey, marked by resilience, hardship, and heartache, speaks to the silent crises faced by many who find themselves lost in a system that can’t fully support them.

Through every twist and turn, Clive reached out, sometimes in ways that were hard to see for what they were. Sharing his story isn’t just about honouring his life; it’s about understanding the complicated road many walk, especially within marginalised communities. For those who knew Clive, his story reminds us of the missed moments and how we must do better to see the signs before it’s too late.

Early Challenges and the Community’s Influence

Clive grew up in Brixton, a vibrant part of South London with a strong sense of community and an edge of hardship. His smile could light up any room, and his quick wit made him unforgettable. From a young age, he had responsibilities that most children would struggle to comprehend. His father wasn’t around, leaving Clive to be both big brother and protector to his little sister, Cherice, while his mother worked multiple jobs to make ends meet.

In Brixton, Clive found a family within his community, and his friends became his lifeline. His best friend, Ade, was more like a brother, and together they navigated the streets, where the community met with constant challenges. Like many young men around them, Clive and Ade got involved with a local gang. It wasn’t some conscious decision to “join” in the way people might imagine—it was simply a place to belong, a way to make money and have fun with friends. For Clive, it was about loyalty and laughing, not understanding how deeply this choice would affect him in the long term. He didn’t see himself as someone involved in crime; he was just trying to survive in a world where few options seemed open to him.

Friends and family now look back and wonder if there were signs even then that Clive was struggling, hints that he needed someone to step in. There were occasional late-night calls, Snapchat posts that seemed a bit “off,” or things he said that hinted at his stress. But back then, everyone saw him as the strong, resilient, and one who’d figure things out on his own.

Navigating Mental Health Diagnoses and Systemic Gaps

In his early twenties, Clive’s emotional struggles began to show more clearly. He’d go from feeling high and invincible to plunging into dark places where he felt entirely alone. His relationships grew intense and unpredictable, with conflicts flaring up, often for reasons even Clive couldn’t explain. Eventually, he was diagnosed with Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder (EUPD), ADHD, and dissocial traits. These diagnoses gave him some context for what he was experiencing but added new challenges in navigating life.

Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder, often called borderline personality disorder, brought intense emotions and impulsive decisions, leaving Clive feeling like his life was a car without brakes. ADHD made focus a constant challenge, while his dissocial traits led to frequent clashes with authority. His diagnosis offered a label but little in terms of the practical support he needed. The system was stretched too thin, and culturally competent care—mental health support that recognised his identity, his community, and his unique struggles—was hard to find.

Clive felt like just another name on a long waiting list. He’d try to get help, only to find himself lost in a cycle of referrals and appointments that led nowhere. Now and then, he’d post something cryptic or maybe a wild story on social media that hinted at what he was going through. Those close to him now remember the times he’d call in the middle of the night, almost desperately, hoping someone would pick up, but often they didn’t. Some dismissed his behaviour as “acting out” or “attention-seeking,” but looking back, it’s clear that Clive was seeking attention for a reason. He needed help but didn’t know how to ask for it in a world that had taught him to carry his burdens alone.

Personal Relationships and Emotional Complexities

One of Clive’s most complicated relationships was with Linda, the mother of his children. They had known each other since childhood, and their relationship had always been intense. Over time, though, that intensity grew toxic. Linda held onto a promise Clive had made years earlier—that one day they’d marry. But as their relationship frayed, Clive began to feel trapped, knowing he needed to move forward but unsure of how to let go of their shared history.

As Clive tried to distance himself, Linda grew resentful. She used his past against him, constantly bringing up his mistakes and undermining his attempts to move forward. She’d sometimes message his new partners, reminding him and them of the family they could have been. Her resentment added to Clive’s emotional burden, filling him with guilt, shame, and regret.

The turning point came when Linda began using their children as leverage. During a supervised visit, tensions flared, and Linda arrived in a rage. A confrontation ensued, and when the police were called, Clive was barred from seeing his kids until things were settled. Losing access to his children was devastating. Those around him saw him change; his demeanour became more withdrawn, his humour masking more profound hurt, and his once-contagious laughter carried a heaviness. He kept up appearances, but his closest friends sensed that he was slipping.

Career Success and a Heartbreaking Downward Spiral

Despite the turmoil in his personal life, Clive worked hard to create a better life. He qualified as a telecommunications engineer, earning a position that provided stability and allowed him to make strides. Within a year, he was promoted to area manager, a role that gave him a sense of pride and fulfilment he hadn’t felt in years.

But stability was short-lived. During a work visit, Linda’s brother confronted Clive, leading to an altercation and another call to the police. Shortly after, Linda sent an email to Clive’s employer, accusing him of abuse and even attaching photos of bruises, claiming they were his doing. Although the allegations were false, Clive’s company suspended him, stripping him of the one area where he’d felt he had control.

As he grappled with these setbacks, Clive’s cries for help grew louder. His Snapchat posts became wild, full of swearing, and often intoxicated. His Twitter rants hinted at the pain he could no longer keep inside, and his Instagram stories painted a chaotic picture of his world. His late-night calls became more frequent, desperate to connect with someone who might listen. Many who received those calls still regret not answering, realising now that he was reaching out in the only ways he knew.

In moments when people did see him, he was often visibly exhausted, eyes heavy from sleepless nights, yet laughing loudly, acting as if everything was fine. Some dismissed his behaviour as “attention-seeking,” but they only saw the surface. He was seeking attention—for help, for someone to see through his laughter and ask if he was okay. But Clive was a man who’d learned to solve problems independently. He didn’t know how to ask for help, and perhaps, like many Black men, he felt that finding a way out was his responsibility alone.

A Silent Crisis: What can i do?

I last saw Clive on a bright afternoon in South London. He looked well, even upbeat. He told me he’d started writing again, joined a comedy club, and was spending more time with his kids. For a moment, it felt like he’d turned a corner, that the Clive I knew was back. He told me he was excited to rebuild, ready to make something better of his life.

But beneath the surface, Clive was carrying a silent crisis. His upbeat exterior masked the weight he bore alone. His social media hinted at unresolved pain, and his calls, often unanswered, spoke volumes in retrospect. Those close to him remember the missed signs, the early morning messages, the words left unsaid.

On his final day, Clive was seen sitting quietly at a train platform, staring at his phone. Witnesses would later recall that he looked calm, almost as if he were waiting. They thought he was typing a message, but he wasn’t texting anyone. He’d opened his notes app and typed a single line: “What can I do?” It was a question that had haunted him through his journey, one he had tried to answer alone.

Just as the train pulled in, Clive stood up, took a final breath, and stepped forward. At that moment, the silent crisis he had carried alone ended.

Reflection and Call to Action: Honoring Clive’s Legacy

Clive’s story is not just a tragedy; it’s a call for empathy, understanding, and change. He reached out in ways big and small—through wild social media posts, unexpected phone calls, and late-night messages hinting at his weight. His life asks us to reflect on what it means to truly see and support those around us, especially when they’re fighting battles we may not fully understand.

We need a mental health system that doesn’t just diagnose and discharge but understands cultural context, listens with compassion, and meets people where they are. Clive’s life reminds us of the importance of early intervention and community support so that those struggling don’t have to carry their pain in silence.

“What can I do?” isn’t just Clive’s; it’s ours. It’s a call to act with empathy, to listen more carefully, and to build a society where no one has to fight alone.