Two-thirds of British adults have experienced mental health problems at some point in their lives, according to the Mental Health Foundation. For people forced to use a food bank like ours, the figures are even higher.
It’s no wonder. The NHS says depression can be caused by “an upsetting or stressful life event, such as bereavement, divorce, illness, redundancy and job or money worries”. People who use food banks face many of these – often at the same time.
A blister from new work boots leads to an ulcer; you’re struggling to walk round the building site and the foreman lays you off with no warning and no sick pay. It takes weeks to access sickness benefits. Your marriage breaks down and you’re suddenly homeless. This is just one story, of a man in his 60s facing an onslaught most of us would struggle to withstand.
Our research highlights that poor mental health is both a cause and a consequence of poverty. Of 20 food bank users we interviewed during one week, 18 said they had experienced poor mental health – stress, anxiety and depression – in the last 12 months. Six said they had considered or attempted suicide in the past year.
Philip*, for instance, had just left hospital when he came to us, after being sectioned six weeks earlier when he attempted to take his own life. Sue*, a grandmother in her 50s, told us, “I’ve had suicidal thoughts. Sometimes I do feel it is the answer. I constantly think of different ways, you know – that can take up a whole evening”.
This is the reality of food banks across the country. Research with referrers to our food bank (such as GPs, mental health services, schools and children’s centres) highlights the same issue; nine out of 10 cite seeing poorer mental health as a direct consequence of poverty.
Time and time again, research [pdf] shows that poverty exacerbates mental health issues by increasing feelings of humiliation, fear, distrust, isolation, insecurity and powerlessness.
Insecurity when you lose your low-paid temporary job or you don’t get the hours you need in a zero-hours contract; when your benefits are due to change as a child turns five, or your Disability Living Allowance needs replacing with Personal Independence Payment; when your private landlord calls time and you join the queue at the council, desperate to be accepted on to the housing list.
Humiliation when your benefits are sanctioned for missing one appointment and “you can’t complain because they’ve got control of you by the money”, as one lady told us after being referred to our food bank by the job centre that sanctioned her. “They can do what they want with you, unless you say please and thank you, and beg.”
Policies that create appalling situations that damage people’s health make me more angry than I can say
Isolation when your “one offer” of temporary accommodation is miles away in another borough, where you don’t know anyone but you’ll still need to get your children back to primary school every day (and you’ll receive no financial help for the extra travel costs).
Fear and distrust when you are called for a medical assessment and the report bears little relation to the interview you had, and even less relation to the expert testimony of your GP, hospital consultant or support worker. Your benefit stops.
We listen to these stories every day at the food bank, keeping how we feel to ourselves as we nod, hand out tissues and make more tea. The short-sightedness of policies that worsen – sometimes even create – appalling situations that damage people’s health makes me more angry than I can say.
You try it. “The job centre told him he needed to do his job in a wheelchair,” says Asha*, mum of three, about her husband, a supermarket delivery driver whose back problems mean he can’t walk properly. “His job? It doesn’t make sense. But to even get to work, he needs to get out of his depression first. Last week he took an overdose.”
“It’s like a nightmare,” she continues. “The system makes it worse and in the end they just leave you with your problems. Any small change and you can lose everything. When it will stop?”
If politicians are serious about tackling poor mental health, our social security system needs to be strong – and for those lining up at our door every day to put food on the table for their kids, it just isn’t.
We should be a country in which people are treated with humanity, fairness, respect and compassion. We need a safety net that is more responsive to unexpected changes in circumstances and health, and less quick to penalise people for whom, at one particular moment in time, life has become an unbearable struggle. That would mean a benefits system which actually boosts people’s chances of improving their life prospects. Until then, we’ll have to keep training our volunteers in mental health issues, because we’re not just handing out food – we’re a source of solace.
* Some names have been changed
Sarah Chapman is a trustee at Wandsworth food bank
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To improve mental health, start with benefits system | Sarah Chapman
