Suicide…. Desperation? Or Revenge?

127041339-352-k1816053701528616036519538.jpgWhen my husband took his life, he left a suicide note nailed to the stair post. On finding my husband, the last thing on my mind was reading this note.

To this day, I am unaware of the full contents of the suicide note. Despite asking a number of times, the Police have not advised me even though I’m ‘next of kin’, and even though they were more than willing to disclose the contents verbally to a ‘3rd party’ (in contradiction of Coroner procedures). This questions the personal judgement of the Investigating Officer.

The few details I have been advised of make it perfectly clear that my husband blamed me for his death. The note said I ‘destroyed his life’. That is a lot of guilt to reconcile.

But it also begs the question – how much of his suicide was down to irrational desperation, and how much was due to rational revenge? This question is constantly going through my mind and I will never get an answer. Depending on which way the wind is blowing on any particular time of the day, it makes me question whether I am able to continue loving my husband in his death. Because many times I feel like I actually hate him. Was any inadvertent actions on my part so heinous that I deserved to be blamed for his suicide, to find him and constantly picture what I saw, to be seen as the only party that was at fault? I know I wasn’t perfect; my husband has made that perfectly clear. Who out there is perfect though in every aspect of their life? My husband certainly wasn’t perfect but I didn’t expect him to be. For the majority, our marriage was very loving and very close and I was willing to accept/live with his imperfections because I loved him. My husband obviously didn’t feel the same. He had a number of options during his final minutes – he could have phoned someone for help and clarity; he could have left me; he could have held on to the thought of working on our marriage as we discussed the day before he took his life. But he didn’t – he killed himself and made sure he exacted revenge on me in those final moments. That’s not the person I knew and loved for the past 17 years of my life because, no matter how wrong I may have been in our marriage, I’m not sure it could ever match or warrant what he’s done in taking his life and the effect this has had. People may see me as evil; this part of my husband that I don’t know is evil too. It’s going to take a long time for me to forgive this side of him immaterial of how much desperation may have played a part. Maybe as long as it’s going to take me to forgive myself.

For at least the past 3 years, my husband had withdrawn from various means of social interaction. I knew why because he talked about it to me. He had become very sensitive to the views and actions of others, and was massively suffering from self doubt and dislike of himself. He knew I would understand because I was very similar.

Approximately a year ago, I had a bad episode of depression. At first we were at loggerheads because he didn’t recognise it, but when I eventually went to the Doctor, David became his usual very supportive self in helping me. This lasted for a couple of months before it started affecting our marriage. Because as a result of my depression and/or aim in recovering, I lost a lot of weight and had to buy clothes to compensate for this, started to socialise every couple of months (I was generally a recluse), became interested more in politics, and used social media as a means of preoccupation. Eventually I started to gain some self-confidence, at least on the surface, because this is something I’ve always seriously lacked. My husband found all this very difficult to live with. It tremendously impacted on his view of me and his own insecurities; he told me he felt threatened. This was not remotely my intention and I frequently told him this. I tried to explain to him it was purely symptoms of my recovery from depression and did not affect how much I loved and appreciated him. I was only trying to deal with my own depression and just needed time. Unfortunately, it’s only on reflection that I realise my husband could not accept or rationalise all this. I seemed to become an obsession for him, to the extent that he told me I was his life and he had nothing in reserve. I would not have seen how severely this was affecting him at the time because I lived with it every day and became used to it. That’s not my fault, that’s life and part of being in a marriage where both good and bad things occur. You just weather it. I’m not sure my husband realised how bad he was either; there’s a part of me that thinks he would have gone to the doctor if he had, like he did in 2010. What I know is that no matter what I did or said, my husband’s perception was totally at odds with my own. This is the point at which we should have sought professional help. But we didn’t.

Ultimately, David’s own insecurities did affect me. David had put me on a pedestal (that I didnt want to be on) and I couldn’t live up to his expectations of me. I couldn’t be what David wanted me to be in order to make him feel secure because it would have undone all the work I had done to recover from my own depression. I wanted him to accept the happier more confident Anthea and see the benefits to both of us. But David couldn’t. I don’t believe this was his fault. It was his own obvious battles with depression fighting against my own. The end result, however, was that I felt like I had a husband who only felt glory and security when I was in the pits of depression. A husband who felt he needed to try and control my life in order to achieve his own security. He never meant it like this; he told me in the days before his death. I know he was like this because of how much he loved me. But it did create pressure which I found difficult to handle, and which resulted in my fighting against him trying to control my life. My husband saw me as a wife who didn’t have any concern for his needs or feelings, who saw his point of view but was selfishly intent on living her own life. Neither of us meant such negativity towards the other, but we both were unable to find the solution or compromise.

Events did take a turn for the worse. My husband did have reason to hate me although I’m not sure he could ever have hated me as much as I hate myself. But to kill himself? And then to blame me? Is any person worth killing themselves over in the first place, to the point that you totally ignore the effect on other persons such as friends and family? I don’t think so. I certainly wasn’t worth it and never wanted to be.  No one should mean so much that it could result in such devastating consequences. And nobody should ‘need’ somebody to this extent. That is not what love should be. What I do know is that the whole situation has been a tragic series of events that could rival a Shakespearian tragedy. The difference being that Shakespeare’s tragedies were fiction, whereas mine is very real and a living hell. 

Anthea xxx


Suicide….. Never Lose Sight of the Light

477948473-612x612Suicide is understandable to me. Having battled with depression for many years, I understand that dark place where your mind can go and how suicide can feel like the ONLY option. It’s a very hard place to escape from and it only takes a moment in time to lose all hope. But it’s important to realise that dark moment can go and hope can return even if it’s only small.

I’ve always sought help from the Doctor and additionally via counselling services. Although it’s sometimes hard to recognise you are spiralling down into that dark place, I’ve been lucky enough to consciously realise when it’s got bad and that I need professional help.

Many people don’t. Either because they are not consciously aware of how bad their depression is, or because they will not ask for help, or by the time they are in the pits of depression it has become too late.

I have done lots of reading to try and understand my husband’s suicide. To try and understand why he didn’t get help, or why I didn’t realise how bad he was even though I knew he wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for a few years. But when you live with someone every day of your life, how sad they are becomes a part of life which you adjust to and accept. Just like he did with my depression. And not every day leading up to my husband’s suicide was bad. We still shared many happy days, we still laughed and joked, we still went out doing good things like walking around town, having days out, sharing a home life which we both treasured. Depression can be hidden by the person, even when it’s severe. The only person who truly knows what’s going on in your head is yourself. And depression is like alcoholism – you will only recognise you have a problem when you can accept it in your own mind.

I don’t think my husband realised how serious his depression was. If he had, I’m convinced he would have told me because we told each other nearly everything. We were never afraid to talk to each other about both good and bad things, with a view to trying to resolve the bad and increase the good. One thing I do know. My husband never once talked about thoughts of suicide. No matter how little self-worth he felt in the preceding years, he never once gave any indication that he would take his own life. If I’d have known, I would have done anything to save him. I now feel a failure for not knowing he would consider this option, for not saving him. And that is one of the hardest things I will ever be able to accept.

I am currently raising money for CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) in memory of my husband. This charity is specifically aimed at males as suicide is much more prevalent in men compared to women – nearly 3/4 of all suicides occur with males. This is a very real and scary fact that needs to be recognised and addressed. My husband is now one of those figures.

Figures I have researched also indicate that 90% of all suicides are due to mental health problems.

My husband had mental health problems. He had been taking St John’s Wort for 8 years. He was obsessive about making sure he took his St John’s Wort. Approximately 18 months ago he talked to my mum about his depression and how he felt the St John’s Wort helped but that he still had really bad days. My mum wonders if his telling her was a cry for help back then. My mum is lucky. David rarely talked to anyone about his depression apart from me. The only other person he may have talked to was his mum but this ceased to be an avenue when she was diagnosed with dementia. David liked to keep his and our private life private. Even his closest oldest friends and family would have been unaware. That was how David lived his life and how much he wanted to hide his low self esteem and sensitivities. And I’m not sure he felt he could talk to certain friends. I know he wasn’t close to various family members.

Over the past year, I believe that BOTH our depression problems were impacting on each other. Something that had never happened before. This lead to a series of issues and events on both sides which preceded my husband taking his life. But whereas I sought help, my husband didn’t for reasons of his own that I will never now know. And I have to reconcile and accept my own impact on his mental health because I know he had started to depend on me and my love for him as a way of helping him out of his own dark thoughts because he loved me more than anything; but I didn’t save him.

There are many mental health problems which are very difficult to manage. My husband’s was depression. If we had adopted a different path, if he/I had known the severity of his depression, if my husband had sought professional help, I strongly believe he would be here today. And I wish that more than anything in this world.

I need people to realise there ARE options. No matter how dark that place is, there are solutions whether via medication and/or therapy treatment. I don’t believe suicide is selfish – when you’re that low it can seem the only viable solution. BUT IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE. You just have to know when, where and who to get the help from. Please remember this. Because you leave behind those who are still living. Those who love/loved you. You leave behind people like me and my husband’s 3 sons who have been left totally devastated. I don’t see a future at the moment. My future was my husband, marriage and family. That always was my priority. Now I don’t have that.

Please, please never lose sight of the light at the end of that dark place, ever. Good and bad things will always happen in life and that dark place will try to take over. But there is always a light no matter how much you think there isn’t. You just have to believe this.

Anthea xxx



David George Brown…… Suicide & Mental Health

img-20181118-wa0008My husband, David, took his own life on Wednesday 14th November 2018.

To use the terminology of the Coroner’s Office, David’s death was by ‘suspension’. I returned home from work on that afternoon and found David. On leaving work, I had tried messaging David. He didn’t answer. I kept looking at my phone waiting/hoping for an answer but I never got one. I walked home faster and faster. I hoped he was asleep but I had a sense of impending doom. I can’t explain it. I walked in the front door and saw David on our hall stairs. I started to say hello and that he was up…… but then I looked at his feet and realised they weren’t touching the floor. I looked up and saw him hanging. I screamed. I remember that much. I screamed and shouted ‘NO!’. I called the emergency services. Nothing is very clear to me at that point but they kept me on the phone until the ambulance and police arrived. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. The shock and disbelief took over. I remember checking for a pulse. I had to. But I knew he wouldn’t have one. While on the phone, I went into the kitchen and found some scissors. I went behind David and cut him down. That’s one of my most logical but worse memories. I looked at the braid around his neck and wanted to cut it off but I didn’t want to hurt him. Because I thought I still stood a chance. A chance that he was still alive.

I sat in the living room on the phone to the Police until the ambulance arrived. I hyperventilated. They calmed me down. I went almost catatonic. The ambulance lady made me a cup of tea. I’m not sure if I drank it. The Police arrived. A lot of Police. I was not allowed in the hall. It becomes a crime scene. But I remember hearing someone asking if there was any chance and the reply being it had been too long.

Lots happened over the next few hours. I went with the Police to collect my 13 year old son from school. The school had kept him back until I could go to him. Harry was my priority and I knew he would want to come home. He said he did. But we did not come home until David had departed to the local hospital.

The Police kept asking me if they could call any friends or family that could come round or I could go to. I said I didn’t have anybody local. I had moved away from my home town to live with my husband so didn’t have a big network locally. I called my niece, Emily, one of my best friends. I asked her to come straight away with my mum but she lived 90 miles away so I knew it would take time. Emily and my mum arrived not long after the Police had left.

Emily stayed with me until this weekend. My mum is now staying with me. Being on my own really scares me. I’ve never been on my own for the past 17 years. David has always been there.

Now I have lost my husband, my best friend, and I am on my own. I have my son. He is a great source of comfort. But now he is on his own with me. Harry loved his dad tremendously. And David’s older two sons from a previous marriage now no longer have the dad they love.

I’m not angry at David. He was in a very dark place. When he took his life, he felt he had no other option. But I am angry he left me because the night before, he wanted me to convince him that I would not leave him in 6 months time. I said but what if he left me? And he did. The very next day.

Anthea xxx

David George Brown

My husband died nearly 4 weeks ago unexpectedly. His Crematorium Service was on Friday. David was only 52 years of age.

I’m sitting here now at gone midnight still in a state of disbelief, numb, detached. Some days I cry. Other days I can’t. I know a long hard and excruciating journey is still to come. I can deal with logic; I’ve sorted many affairs, I sorted the most beautiful service for David that I could do and that I knew he would want. I can’t do emotion. I’m avoiding emotion where possible. I can’t face it and truly fear it because I know it will hurt so much. This is early days. I have no idea what my future holds and how I will manage it. I’m on my own, a widow with a 13 year old son, and without the husband I loved and still love. I talk to David. I know he’s there. We always talked about both the good and the bad.

My husband left me. It couldn’t be more final then this. Yet he feared me leaving him. Ironic.

When I am ready, I will talk about my journey, I will talk about what happened. But my life is a blur of existence. More words fail me at the moment.

Anthea xxxx

Me and My Shadow……. (Depression, my continuing saga)


I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression when I was 33 years old. My very own ‘D’ Day! A big Eureka moment for me as it provided an explanation for my frequent morose and insular nature from an early age.
Being with someone who suffers from depression is a thankless task. You won’t get paid for it! In fact, you need to question whether it’s more hassle then it’s worth. It takes a great amount of integrity, strength and patience to be able to tolerate a person with depression. And it takes its toll on this person because most of the time they can’t help. And it’s natural for people to want to ‘fix’ things. But most of the time, especially during the dark times, we can’t ‘fix’ ourselves so how can others do it? And for the person who suffers from depression, we don’t always want fixing. We want it to go away. Cos we never chose to be like this in the first place. I didn’t want to have life experiences which would most probably affect me for the rest of my life. I don’t want to feel anxious doing daily things like getting in a car and driving, or walking down the street, or going shopping, or worrying whether people will like me, or whether I’m good enough at my job (constant failing). And I feel weak and pathetic because I can’t manage my anxiety and depression every day of my life, never knowing whether it’s going to be a good day or a bad day, and whether the bad day will turn into a few bad days, then a week and then a month. Because that’s what happens. You try to pass off that bad day but before you know it, it’s a month down the line and you’ve totally spiralled without realising. Then when you’re down there, it’s dark with no light to show you the way out. It’s truly shit! I’ve worked out I have short dark periods almost once a year. But then bam! Every few years I get the real humdinger. The one where I don’t care if I walk down the middle of the road and get run over. Or take too many of those sleeping tablets the doctor prescribed to help you just so that you don’t have to think and feel anymore. I’ve got no answers. I tell myself to take every day as it comes cos it might be the day I have a turning point, or feel good and can live my life again. It affects my relationships with everyone. I become distant from my husband, I isolate both socially and in work environments. I don’t want to talk to people which isolates me even more. And I push people away because getting close leads to hurt. And people don’t understand that I fear rejection – so the easiest solution is to reject them first which gives you the delusion that you are in control. Which is laughable really because I’m not remotely in control. I find other ways to make me feel ‘good’ like controlling my eating habits. Depression totally knocks the socks off of all those well tried and tested diet plans for me!
I’ve had my current dip since December. It first became apparent at work. January and February were horrendous (I now have no more sleeping pills). I’m currently off sick (unpaid I might add!) and plodding along in my own little world. Some good days, some bad days. I’m happiest at home with my own company. It’s amazing how you can pretend everything is fine when you’re on your own. Nobody to affect you or interact with you. It even affects how I deal with social media, spasmodically resulting in my coming off of Facebook for periods of time. I’m fine dealing with faceless strangers. They’re no risk and help to keep me occupied. Twitter has been a saving grace for me recently, providing a platform for issues I am interested in and can get stuck into. A great diversion tool!
There’s very little help for people with mental health problems. Counselling and Cognitive Behaviour Treatment are considered effective tools but the funding isn’t there to subsidise such services. The last time I was able to decently make use of such services was when I had private health cover 13 years ago but I don’t have that luxury anymore. My last bout of ‘free’ counselling which finished at Easter was provided by the NHS/MIND and consisted of 6 sessions. Unfortunately this didn’t even scratch the surface. So it’s no wonder doctors palm you off with pills cos what other options are there?? I’m glad for my happy pills because I’m not convinced I’d still be here without them (yes, I did wean myself off approx 10 yrs ago….. Only to end up back in the doctors on a substantially higher dosage. Not a good time!). So this is a feasible option. But it’s not a solution.
Meanwhile lets not forget how selfish and self absorbed I currently feel. For not living my life during these episodes when there are countless people out there denied the opportunity for health or environmental reasons. Who are much worst off than me physically, when all I’ve got is a screwed up mind. I don’t choose to highlight my plight because I hate it with a passion. I want to live a normal life. I don’t remotely feel ‘proud’ of me. And most of the time I don’t even like me.
So that’s ‘Me and My Shadow’. People either like me or don’t like me, tolerate me or don’t tolerate me, stick around when the going gets tough or don’t stick around. As for understanding me……. that’s a difficult one when even I don’t understand me.
Until later……
Anthea xxx

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The Life of a Depressive Social Misfit!

social-misfitI have come to the conclusion that I am one of the most inept persons in social situations that ever existed.  When I talk about social situations, I mean any platform which requires interaction with other persons in any capacity, whether it is work colleagues, family/friends, via social media or just mingling with Joe Public down town.  My lack of ability in the social stakes has been in gradual decline for the past few years, some of it conscious some of it not.  What I am aware of is that it predominantly stems from my uphill struggle with depression and highlights my total intolerance of certain situations.  It results in a lot of anger, both at myself and at people.  I have a constant cauldron of anger bubbling away inside of me.  It’s not very nice.  In fact I hate it.  And I don’t know how to deal with it or get rid of it.  It also brings into the equation a lot of self doubt because I’ve lost perspective on whether the anger I feel at people is justified or not.  But that’s the problem with depression – you totally lose perspective and the ability to rationalise things.  I am at this state.  And all it does is increase the anger in myself at being unable to sort the problem.

I try to treat people as I would like to be treated myself.  I am an avid believer in the mantra ‘behaviour breeds behaviour’.  But I am constantly disappointed because I am realising that this mantra is not reciprocated and it is one of the big issues which fuels my cauldron of anger.

I have a circle of ‘friends’ that I have know for in excess of 11 years now.  I met this circle of friends following the birth of my son and I so desperately needed it following a nasty bout of post natal depression (lesson number 1, never be desperate!).  When my son started school 7 years ago, I had a very quick decline into depression again which was partly self inflicted due to weaning myself totally off the happy pills, plus I turned 40 years old, and was giving my son away to full time education.  Whether due to the depression, or due to real situations, I started to get niggling doubts regarding my relationship with this circle of ‘friends’.  The routine of school life invariably did not fit in with meeting up for our weekly tea and cake resulting in my not being able to join them more often than not.  I’m hoping that I was still fairly level headed and realistic at the time and, consequently, realised that things would change now my son was at school, as is life in general.  But I was hoping for some cognisance of my dilemma and a bit of meeting me half way.  Unfortunately, other than a few cursory comments over not seeing me/my son as often, this didn’t happen.  And I readily admit that I was miffed.  I felt neglected and left out.  So in true Anthea style, I let them get on with it and withdrew.  And spent many a day wallowing in self pity.  I’m pleased to say I eventually bit the bullet and went to the doctor who put me back on happy pills and arranged counselling.  I subsequently got a job as a dinner lady at my son’s school for a bit of pocket money, assisted with school trips and events, and met a couple of new friends.  Eventually I started socialising again with this particular circle of friends  when we could such as during school holidays or for special occasions.  But I distinctly felt that things had shifted and, for one reason or another, we were losing commonality.  Our lack of commonality continued to become more apparent over the years.  We continued to meet when possible but I often found myself sitting there drinking my tea and not being part of the conversations due to not having the same school/nursery circle.  I invariably did not know the people or children they were talking about.  Their children shared the same school/year whereas my son was a year ahead so I didn’t have like experiences or issues to talk about.  This is nobody’s fault.  I don’t blame anyone.  It’s very usual for people to discuss common views,  and they were more than happy to fill me in if I asked. But I soon realised that what they had in common was always going to dominate the conversation and I became hyper-sensitive to this and the fact that I couldn’t contribute or join in.  And it really hit me with force when I realised my son felt the same.

Roll on to more recent years, and I haven’t seen this circle of friends for a fair number of months now.  I’ve got almost a phobic feeling about meeting up with them.  And one of the big reasons for cutting myself out of this group?  I’m not a forgiving person.  My son received notification of his secondary school a year ago.  Only one member of this particular group of friends asked me what school he had got.  Bearing in mind how controversial and quite stressful the allocation of school places is in this competitive day and age, this was quite an important event for me and my son.  Yet only one of them was kind enough to enquire.  In fact, one particular individual actually had the audacity to comment that she didn’t know what school my son was going to in excess of 3 months after he started at secondary!  I don’t expect to be asked about all aspects of my life or for us to live in each other’s pockets.  We’ve all moved on to a certain extent, got jobs, mix in other social circles, etc.  But I expected more from ‘friends’ I’ve known for over 11 years.  It doesn’t take 2 minutes to send a quick email asking how things are.  Despite this, I still wish them all the best with the allocation of school places for their children this year – an issue which I’m sure will have been discussed in great detail between them because they’re now going through it………  But I’m buggered if I’m going to ask them!  Hence my mantra, behaviour breeds behaviour.

I hate Facebook.  In the past year I’ve closed my old Facebook account and opened a new one with very minimal ‘friends’ because I was getting so upset at the number of friends who ‘liked’ posts of mutual friends but never ‘liked’ the occasional post I put on.  In fact it’s still going on despite the fact I’ve got less than 70 friends on Facebook.  Why do people do this?  Why do we join such social media and leave ourselves wide open to rejection and inferiority?  Facebook is so socially alienating and destructive, yet I make myself so angry by persisting in going into it numerous times a day!  Fortunately, other than Twitter, it’s the only social media site I go into.  And I have very few followers on Twitter which suits me fine because I’ve realised I prefer the anonymity of strangers who can’t emotionally affect me.  Social media just highlights the fickleness of friendships.

I am a depressive.  I’m always questioning the purpose of life.  I don’t think there is a purpose in life most of the time if I’m honest.  Such realisation would generally encourage a more optimistic person to make the most of life because it is so short.  But when you’re in a continuous cycle of depression, its very easy to become so self absorbed that you cannot stop the turning and you spiral down even further instead.  I’m not in the pits of depression……if I was I would reach my life long dream of weighing 8st 12lb (the one positive of my depression is that it is generally better than weight loss surgery for me!).  But I currently seem to be balancing on the edge of that pit and I’m getting worn out.

A significant effect of my current state of mind is that I become a reclusive.  This has been getting progressively worse over the last couple of years.  I find it easier to be by myself because I find that socialising leaves me wide open to hurt and rejection.  I am happy with my own company.  I have a few people I hold dear, including my son and husband, my mum and mum-in-law, and a couple of very close friends.  Where is the incentive to increase my close knit circle when I invariably get shit upon from a great height?

I joked recently with my mum and a good friend that I should work in a morgue/undertaker’s.  The irony is that I seriously think dealing with dead people would actually suit me…….they can’t talk back for f*** sake!  And who knows…….it might actually help my phobia of dying.

Unfortunately my husband feels that my reclusive nature is not healthy which is one of the reasons he feels I should get a job.  I don’t agree with him.  I get a job to serve basic needs in life such as paying the bills.  That’s it.  I am currently on a career break and evaluating my options.  And I am massively enjoying it.  Plus no jobs have come up in the local funeral parlour as yet and despite a a new crematorium being built on the outskirts of Gravesend!

So where do I go from here?  I don’t know.  But I do know there’s such a thing as cause and effect.  If you don’t hear from me there is a reason.  If I’ve become a hermit, there is a reason.  If you’re not a friend on my Facebook, there is a reason.  And if you think I’m giving you a hard time, believe me, I’m giving myself just as much of a hard time!!

Anthea xxxxxx

UK Immigration – Some Food for Thought……

Okay, I pro30376FULLmise I will try and keep this one shorter!

Following a few conversations with people who campaigned to stay in the EU, I decided to undertake some research on how immigration has affected our population.  I would like to thank these particular people because, as a result of my delving into the subject matter, I am now even more convinced that I was correct in my decision to vote to leave with the current immigration situation being my (and many others) main area of concern.  I have also improved on my O Level mathematical skills!!

I have used figures obtained from a number of different sources, eg. Office of National Statistics (ONS), Home Office, Department of Work and Pensions, to name but a few.  NB. I have not used any  biased or media related websites to eliminate any of the figures having been ‘massaged’ in favour of a particular view.

I hope this provides for interesting reading……….

DEFINITION OF NET MIGRATION –  In simple terms, net migration is the number of persons immigrating to the UK, minus the number of persons emigrating from the UK.  If a plus figure, more people are coming into this country.  If a minus figure, more people are leaving this country.

Net migration has not been a minus figure since approximately 1992.  Since 1998, net migration has exceeded 100,000 rising to 200,000 in 2004.  Net migration has been exceeding 300,000 since 2014.

Long Term (more than 12 months) migration figures estimated for 2015 (with margin of error allowed for):-

  • Immigration           =  630,000
  • Emigration              =  297,000
  • NET MIGRATION  =  333,000

Since 2011, emigration has stabilised.  As such, any increase in net migration over recent years has been directly attributable to increased immigration.

Of the 630,000 persons that immigrated to the UK, the majority consisted of 270,000 EU citizens and 277,000 non-EU citizens (immigration/emigration estimates have not yet been revised, hence are not consistent with the revised net immigration estimates).  Bearing in mind a percentage of persons will then leave the country (emigrate), the actual additional number (net) of immigrants estimated to have entered the UK during 2015 is 184,000 EU citizens and 188,000 non-EU citizens.

Since 2011, the number of non-EU immigrants has been declining whereas EU immigrants has been increased creating a split of circa 50/50.

Of the 630,000 persons that immigrated to the UK, surveys indicate that 308,000 came for work purposes and approximately 160,000 came to study.

Of the 160,000 persons who cited study purposes as their reason for coming to the UK, 72% were non-EU citizens (the remainder being EU and British immigrants).

Of the 308,000 persons who cited work purposes as their reason for coming to the UK, 61% were EU citizens compared to 24% for non-EU citizens. 

42% of both EU and non-EU citizens coming to the UK for work purposes did not have a definite job (an increase of 26,000 from 2014).

43% of EU citizens coming to the UK for work purposes did not have a definite job.

The above figures would indicate that EU citizens predominantly immigrate for work purposes and non-EU citizens immigrate for study purposes.

National Insurance Numbers (NINOs)

For the year ending March 2016, a total of 826,000 NINOs were issued. This figure includes both long term (12 months +) and short term (1 to 12 months) migration. Many short term migrants stay as long term migrants.

  • 630,000 NINOs were issued to EU citizens.
  • 195,000 NINOs were issued to non-EU citizens.

That is an additional 826, 000 persons who are able to access and use the UK’s public services in a one year period.

Population Growth

Between 2004 and 2014, the UK population growth averaged 0.7% (increase from an average of 0.3% prior to 2004).

The EU as a whole showed a growth of 0.3% for the same time period – a significant difference.

The populations of Eastern Europe saw a decrease for the same time period (supporting my view that substantial migration is occurring from less thriving countries to thriving countries causing a very uneven spread).

The average annual population growth from 2004 to 2014 in terms of persons (taking into account births, deaths, migration and other changes) was 465,000 per year. 243,000 of this figure (52%) was attributable to NET MIGRATION.

The annual population growth for 2014 in terms of persons was 491,000.  260,000 of this figure (just under 53%) was attributable to NET MIGRATION.

Controlled migration can have a positive effect on the economy in respect of research and development, furthering of studies, identification and filling of job gaps, seasonal work (eg. crop picking), etc. But net migration has been steadily climbing since the 1990s, to the point that it is now exceeding the 300,000 mark which is not sustainable and is proving detrimental to this country.

I hope you will take the time to read the above and make your own determination.

Anthea xxx