Trigger warning: Self-harm

We’ve compiled the stories, data, and facts from this article into an interactive game. Readers can follow the experiences of caregivers and survivors and face choices that reflect the real-life situations they’ve experienced.

The past three years have been a difficult time for Asa, a mother of two daughters who serves as the backbone of her family. 

This difficult period began when Asa noticed subtle changes in her second daughter, Daya, who was just entering her teenage years. These changes, which she gradually became aware of, eventually led to a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for Daya. During this time, Daya attempted suicide several times.

In an interview with Konde.co, Asa explained that at first, there were no particularly noticeable changes in her daughter’s behavior. However, as a single mother, Asa gradually realized that Daya’s eating habits were beginning to change. 

Whenever Asa asked if Daya had eaten, the answer was always the same.

“I have” or “yes, later.”

Daya also began to shut herself away more often, keeping her bedroom door tightly closed, something she had never done before in a household consisting entirely of women. 

When Asa tried to find out more because she was suspicious, Daya would actually get very angry. 

Asa lived in Bogor and commuted to Jakarta every day for work; she felt she couldn’t always keep an eye on Daya’s daily routine.

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Gradually, Asa noticed that Daya’s weight was beginning to drop drastically. Daya also started exercising excessively. Whenever asked, Daya would simply say she was on a diet.

“At that time, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was losing weight. I kept talking to her until finally I decided to take her to a nutritionist at a private hospital,” said Asa.

She deliberately didn’t take Daya to the community health center first because there were no specific symptoms of a physical illness, and she felt that such primary care services were better suited for curative concerns. The examination revealed that Daya had already lost 20 kilograms. The nutritionist advised Asa to take Daya to a psychiatrist.

However, before she had a chance to follow up on that advice, Daya’s condition had already worsened. She began fainting frequently, leading to repeated visits to the Emergency Department (ED) with abdominal complaints, and she was hospitalized several times. 

It was only during one of these hospital stays that Daya was treated by a pediatric gastroenterology and hepatology subspecialist, who explained that the cause of all this was excessive dieting. 

It was then revealed that even though her body was already very thin, Daya still felt she was fat and wanted to be even thinner, because she believed that if she were thin, she would be beautiful, have many friends, be noticed, and be loved.

From that point on, Asa began to dig deeper into what her daughter was actually going through, and it came to light that Daya was being bullied at her new school, a private middle school run by a Catholic foundation in Bogor, the city where they had recently moved. The bullying even came from her own teacher. 

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“I thought this was the safest school because of its reputation. But it turns out she was being bullied,” said Asa. 

On one occasion, the teacher asked about family life in front of the class, and when it came out that Daya didn’t live with her father, the teacher used this as an example of a “bad” family in front of her classmates. 

On another occasion, during an assignment to write about a personal experience, Daya described her medical treatment process through BPJS. Instead of being praised, her teacher questioned whether the story was actually true or made up, until Daya had to explain with crying that her hospitalization wasn’t by her own choice but followed the established procedures. 

This bullying caused Daya’s emotional state to deteriorate further, and her physical condition continued to decline as well. 

The school did discipline the teacher after the incident was reported, but the emotional scars left behind were already too deep. During that difficult time, Asa also felt she had little support; several other parents whom she considered quite vocal on children’s issues actually withdrew one by one when she needed them, offering various justifications.

Asa then tried to find a psychologist, but this path was not easy either. 

Most of the adolescent psychologists she met focused on developmental issues or interests and talents, while others specialized in treating victims of abuse. On the other hand, at that time, Asa herself did not yet know exactly what her child was going through. 

She had contacted a psychologist at the Pulih Foundation, but the waiting list was three months long. On a friend’s recommendation, she eventually met with another psychologist whom she found to be less communicative, but who used assessment tools to diagnose patients, something Asa felt her child needed. 

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“I told my daughter, ‘We need that assessment so we’ll know what to do.’ Finally, she agreed,” she said. 

From there, Daya was diagnosed with anorexia and referred to a psychiatrist at one of the oldest private hospitals in Bogor.

Since there was no referral, Asa couldn’t use BPJS for this psychiatrist, and the cost, according to Asa, was very high.

“That psychiatrist is very expensive; a single session costs between Rp750,000 and Rp900,000. But I felt like I had no choice because this was to save my child’s life,” she explained.

Daya initially felt comfortable and underwent three therapy sessions before the psychiatrist ultimately admitted he was unable to manage her condition and suggested that Daya “shop around” visiting several psychiatrists until she found the right one, without providing any recommendations on where she should go. 

Asa then worked around the situation by requesting a diagnostic report from that psychiatrist, which she then took to the community health center to obtain a BPJS referral to a child and adolescent psychiatrist at a government-run psychiatric hospital in Bogor. There, Daya was treated by another psychiatrist whose diagnosis indicated that Daya was suffering from severe depression.

“The psychiatrist was very kind, and my child felt comfortable there. The therapy process lasted nearly a year and a half, but there was no improvement. They just kept prescribing medication, the dosage would sometimes go up, sometimes down,” said Asa, who at the time still believed that was simply how the process was supposed to go.

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Since there was no sign of improvement, Asa sought a second opinion by consulting another psychiatrist at the same hospital, this time through private care at a much higher cost.

It was this psychiatrist who first opened up a more open space for discussion and diagnosed Daya with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He offered specialized therapy to help Daya focus better, but this therapy required ten consecutive sessions without a break, costing between Rp500,000 and Rp750,000 per session. 

Asa could not afford these costs, so the process came to a halt. She then requested a referral letter from the previous psychiatrist and switched to a new one, who re-evaluated the entire process Daya had gone through. 

It was only then that Asa realized there should have been a treatment program with periodic evaluations, rather than simply prescribing medication without a clear plan. After undergoing retesting, Daya was diagnosed with both PTSD and BPD. BPD, or Borderline Personality Disorder, is a serious mental health condition that makes it extremely difficult for sufferers to control their emotions, moods, and perceptions of themselves and others. 

Amid this lengthy process of moving from one professional to another, Daya made several attempts at self-harm and suicide, with the severity gradually increasing. 

On one occasion, Asa had to call the Bogor City ambulance service via the 119 hotline; she was grateful that they arrived quickly and were able to help Daya. 

“They acted quickly and were very helpful in an emergency,” she said.

Another crisis also occurred at school. Both the first and second schools asked Daya to transfer after a series of suicide attempts. 

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However, at the second school, the administration was still willing to open a dialogue and involve the Indonesian Child Protection Commission (KPAI) after Asa reported the case. A one-month probationary period was agreed upon to monitor Daya’s condition, and during that time she demonstrated emotional stability, leading the school to ultimately withdraw its request for her to transfer.

One moment Asa regrets the most is when Daya had to be hospitalized at a psychiatric hospital in her city following one of her self-harm attempts. 

There, instead of recovering, Daya witnessed mistreatment of other children in care by healthcare staff, including the behavior of medical students on rotation who treated patients as if they were a spectacle, as well as inhumane isolation rooms. 

“That hospitalization was the decision I regret the most because it actually added to her trauma. So I asked for her stay to be cut short, and she was discharged from there,” said Asa. 

“That situation also made him lose even more trust in that institution because of the way it was managed. He also lost even more trust in professionals because their training process still allows them to behave that way,” she added.

At this point, Daya simply wants her condition to be understood. She doesn’t blame her mother, nor does she blame herself. Daya feels that living with BPD is indeed exhausting. 

She described a constant, loud noise in her head that makes it difficult for her to do things that seem ordinary to others, it even made it hard for her to recognize the people around her, including her own mother, who appeared to her as mere silhouettes. 

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During those most difficult times, Asa’s way of supporting her wasn’t by forcing physical contact or conversation, but simply by sitting quietly nearby until Daya could gradually sense her presence. Little by little, Daya also found other ways to cope, one of which was through her interest in botany, which she began exploring with her mother.

“Over the past three years, it’s only been in the last three months or so that she’s been able to adapt somewhat. So, even in normal situations, it’s still noisy. In the past few months, she’s been able to say it’s still noisy, still loud, but she can kind of ignore it. I think that’s been a very long journey and struggle for her,” Asa explained.

Through that long process, Asa also learned to recognize the signs. When Daya is seen getting dressed up and doing her favorite activities, such as drawing or working on school assignments, it’s a sign that she’s doing well. 

Conversely, when Daya starts skipping her routine personal hygiene activities, that’s a sign she’s entering a critical phase that requires Asa to be on high alert and stay awake. 

“If Daya shows signs that her suicidal thoughts are starting to rise again, that means her older sister and I take turns keeping watch—we don’t sleep. So her older sister watches from such-and-such time to such-and-such time, and then I take over from such-and-such time to such-and-such time. We try to stay awake and not miss a thing,” she said.

Throughout this entire journey, Asa has encountered a number of systemic issues that have made things difficult. She believes that BPJS tends to be inflexible and doesn’t offer many options, especially when a patient feels they aren’t a good fit with the psychiatrist or psychologist assigned to them.

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“BPJS doesn’t account for situations where, for example, a patient realizes midway through treatment that they just don’t click with their psychologist or doctor whether it’s the psychologist or the doctor. It’s not because of a lack of competence or expertise, but simply because they aren’t a good fit,” she explained. 

Even so, she still believes this service helps many other people; it’s just that the options are too limited.

 “Because right now, there are no alternatives. So it feels like hitting a dead end—there’s no way out. But perhaps for others, this service provides extraordinary help,” he said. The availability of medication is also a problem in itself, since not all medications are covered through the BPJS system. “There are some medications that are said to be out of stock or not available. So I have to buy them myself. This is what keeps driving up the cost of treatment, even though it’s a monthly expense,” he said.

In a written response to Konde.co on Monday (September 28, 2026), BPJS Kesehatan stated that mental health services are included in JKN benefits, ranging from examinations and treatment at primary care facilities to referrals to hospitals. Patients with chronic mental health conditions whose condition has stabilized can also be referred back to primary healthcare facilities (FKTP) through the Return Referral Program. For mental health services, this program is available to participants diagnosed with schizophrenia.

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Regarding medications, BPJS stated that medications required based on medical indications must be available at healthcare facilities. For medications not yet listed in the National Formulary (Fornas), their use at advanced-level referral healthcare facilities can be authorized through the hospital’s internal approval mechanism. The costs are covered under the INA-CBG package and must not be passed on to participants. However, the availability of medications for JKN participants remains an issue at a number of healthcare facilities.

Medication options under JKN continue to follow the Fornas list and regulations. In the Fornas effective as of April 2026, several antipsychotics, such as risperidone, clozapine, and quetiapine are listed as medications that can be used in JKN services. For antidepressants, Fornas also lists amitriptyline, escitalopram, fluoxetine, fluvoxamine, maprotiline, and sertraline, with certain restrictions or conditions for use. This means that patients’ medication choices are still influenced by the types of drugs listed in Fornas as well as the restrictions on their use.

The complexity of the system is also related to the referral process. Generally, JKN services still begin at primary-level health facilities (FKTP), such as community health centers (puskesmas) or clinics, before participants receive care at referral facilities. However, starting in April 2026, the Ministry of Health and BPJS Kesehatan began testing a competency-based referral system through the integration of the National Health Information System, the SATUSEHAT Rujukan system, SISRUTE, and the BPJS system. This system is designed so that patients are referred based on a facility’s ability to manage their medical condition, rather than solely based on the hospital’s tier.

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The issue becomes more complicated for those who arrive in a state of self-harm or after a suicide attempt. Although mental health services are covered by JKN, BPJS Kesehatan, in its written response, emphasized that conditions resulting from self-harm and suicide attempts “cannot be covered under applicable regulations.” This provision refers to Presidential Regulation No. 59/2024, Article 52, paragraph (1), letter j, which maintains the exemption from Presidential Regulation No. 82/2018.

This exclusion conflicts with the need for treatment, which is often urgent. On the other hand, when asked about data on the use of mental health services, the most commonly prescribed medications, services that cannot be provided, and evaluations of the sustainability of mental health care, BPJS did not provide any data and merely referred back to its response regarding the non-coverage of self-harm-related services.

These service limitations are also intertwined with a shortage of healthcare personnel. According to data from the Ministry of Health, there are 2,107 clinical psychologists in Indonesia. With a population of approximately 284.4 million, this translates to a ratio of about 0.74 clinical psychologists per 100,000 people or one psychologist for every 135,000 people. This figure is still far below the benchmark ratio of 3.3 per 100,000 people or about one psychologist for every 30,000 people. Meanwhile, there are only 1,053 psychiatrists, with a ratio of about 0.3 per 100,000 people.

When asked about the shortage of psychologists and psychiatrists, long waiting lists, the equitable distribution of healthcare facilities, and limited service schedules, BPJS stated that meeting the need for healthcare personnel, facilities, infrastructure, and ensuring their equitable distribution requires support from the central government, local governments, and the private sector. Regarding coverage mechanisms and referral processes, BPJS stated that everything is already regulated in accordance with applicable regulations.

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Of the many doctors and psychiatrists she has met, Asa admits that only one truly showed empathy and created a space for discussion. She also feels there is a lack of support for caregivers or companions of mental health patients.

So far, the communities she has encountered have been limited to specific issues, such as the Indonesian Schizophrenia Awareness Community, while there are no similar support groups for PTSD and BPD. Without such resources and support groups, caregivers like her are forced to bear the physical and psychological burden on their own—especially when their work environments lack adequate understanding. 

She repeatedly had to take time off work or request permission to work from home, until she was finally advised to take a sabbatical with the expectation that her performance would improve afterward as if the situation she was facing were entirely within her control. 

The stigma that remains strong in society, coupled with the lack of safe spaces to share her experiences, caused Asa to withdraw from her social circle for nearly two years, as she was unable to face sensitive questions about her child’s education or the mistaken assumptions linking Daya’s condition to parenting failures.

In another satellite city not far from Bogor, we met Binar (21), not her real name, as she sat staring at her phone screen. 

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Her fists clenched as she reread a comment claiming that her mental state was the result of her not praying enough.

“You don’t pray enough, you don’t worship enough!” someone wrote on social media.

As a college student, Binar has been dealing with mental health issues for years. Issues that occasionally lead her to feel the urge to harm herself. When she’s at her lowest and struggling to control her emotions, she says her thoughts can turn to self-harm and even suicidal thoughts.

“If I don’t distract myself, I usually end up harming myself. There have been times when I’m really down and can’t control my emotions and feelings; I often self-harm, can’t think clearly, and have suicidal thoughts,” she told Konde.co on Wednesday (September 16, 2026).

In situations like that, Binar chooses to find distractions. She also divides her social circle into three layers: friends who truly understand her, friends who can help take her mind off things, and friends who are merely acquaintances. For her, this division helps determine whom she can turn to for help when her condition worsens.

However, seeking professional help isn’t always easy either. Her experience with a psychologist began when a community health center (Puskesmas) visited her high school. At the time, even though the psychologist had no available slots and the situation was urgent, she chose to step out of her office to meet with Binar. That experience left a lasting impression, but it didn’t immediately make Binar trust all mental health services, including crisis hotlines.

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“I don’t think it’ll help,” she said. 

“Honestly, just to see a psychologist I have to fill out a Google Form and all that. I’d die before I could finish. It’s that complicated so imagine if I were to call a hotline? It wouldn’t help that much.”

For Binar, the need to be seen in person felt far more urgent when she was in a crisis.

“To be honest, because of my lack of knowledge and the situation at the time, I really needed someone physically present in front of me, not just over the phone or anything like that,” she continued.

Now, Binar regularly accesses private psychological services at Sehati on the recommendation of a friend who is also majoring in psychology. Through this process, she received a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder (BPD) and obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD).

“BPD is impulsive, while OCPD is more organized,” she explained.

She covers the cost of the consultations herself. She jokingly refers to these expenses as costs that “leave her wallet empty.” And she had considered campus counseling services but decided against them because she wasn’t sure they would provide a safe space for her.

“Not at all. I don’t want to,” she said firmly. 

“Given the countless cases of sexual violence where the PLP should have been involved but still went unaddressed, I’m skeptical.”

That skepticism also stems from her experience as a woman with a queer identity. For Binar, seeing a psychologist isn’t just about discussing her mental health. it’s also a space to understand her own identity.

“In fact, one of my goals in seeing a psychologist is to find a neutral person and to figure out who I really am,” she said.

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She eventually found a psychologist she considered supportive and gradually got to know a community that made her feel safer. However, in order to open up, Binar still needed to make sure first that the person she was talking to wouldn’t judge her.

“I used to assess first whether this person would judge me or not,” she admitted.

We also met Amora (21), a student Binar’s age. She, too, had experienced and still experiences urges to self-harm following a family conflict in July 2023. Two years later, while dealing with a broken heart, similar urges resurfaced, though she tried to ensure the situation wouldn’t be as severe as it had been two years prior.

It was the first incident, she said, that left the deepest scars. At that time, her older sibling’s words during a family argument triggered a wound she hadn’t expected to be so deep. She only later realized that her actions at the time were more serious than she had thought.

“I think the biggest trigger came from my family,” she said. 

After her family found out about the suicide attempt, Amora promised not to do it again. However, when those urges resurfaced in 2025, she first sought support from her friends before gradually opening up to her mother.

Amora felt that confiding in her family wasn’t easy. As a child who believed she had to be independent, Amora worried that her problems would only add to the burden of her parents, who had worked so hard to pay for her college tuition. 

Her experiences in middle and high school, when her heartfelt confessions were met with laughter from her family instead of empathy also led her to get used to keeping her problems to herself.

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“Sometimes I do have thoughts like, ‘Am I being a burden if, for example, I share something like this?’” she said.

That hesitation gradually faded after her friends convinced her to open up. Amora realized that staying silent could actually make the people who care about her even more worried.

The experiences of Amora, Binar, and even Daya align with the findings of the 2022 Indonesia-National Adolescent Mental Health Survey (I-NAMHS). The study, which surveyed 5,664 adolescents aged 10–17, found that 3.7 percent of adolescents experienced anxiety disorders, 1 percent had major depression, and 0.9 percent had behavioral disorders. 

Mental health issues were also more prevalent among adolescent girls (28.2 percent) than boys (25.4 percent). However, only 2.6 percent of adolescents with mental health issues sought professional help in the past 12 months. Reasons cited included not knowing where to turn for help, fear of being judged, and not wanting to be a burden to their loved ones.

Amora herself began seeking help as the second semester was winding down and the third was approaching. She found information about the campus counseling service (PLP) on a poster shared in a student group. After filling out an online form and receiving confirmation, she attended an in-person session.

However, Amora only realized later that the counselor she was about to meet was her own advisor in the student organization. She felt uncomfortable with the existing relationship she had with her prospective counselor.

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A sense of awkwardness briefly overwhelmed her. 

“Is this safe? Is it okay for me to really open up about my struggles?” she wondered to herself.

Amora pushed those doubts aside; when she finally met the counsellor who was also her faculty advisor, she said the counselor reaffirmed the confidentiality boundaries before the session began.

The professor asked Amora to set aside her organizational affiliations and view the counselor purely as a counselor. The service was free, the process was quick taking less than a week from registration and, according to Amora, confidentiality has been maintained up until the publication of this article.

Even so, Amora fully understands the limitations of this service. Sessions are strictly limited to one hour, there is no formal medical record, and the service is intended merely as first aid, not long-term clinical support.

“A free psychological service, even one limited to a single campus has already had this kind of impact on me so far; imagine if I were to muster the courage to seek out even more professional help,” she reflected.

According to Amora, campus services can serve as a starting point to build the courage to seek further help. To prepare for the possibility of difficult times returning, she has also built “three pillars”: faith in God, family, and a circle of friends who remain caring even after a long time without communication.

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“It turns out there are many who care; it turns out there are many who, even though we haven’t been in touch for a long time, still care,” she said.

She has also learned to forgive herself, including for the pain she has experienced.

However, Amora does not yet have a completely clear plan should she find herself in a crisis situation again. She has never used a hotline service and isn’t sure exactly where to turn for help in an emergency. For now, she plans to try psychological services through BPJS Kesehatan before considering private services.

“If something even more challenging happens again, and I feel like I can’t access those services on my own, maybe only then will I muster the courage to finally take the leap to something more professional, even if it’s expensive,” she concluded.

Gender: An Often-Overlooked Risk Factor

Suicide cases are often discussed as fragments of personal trauma. However, a larger and more systematic pattern has been looming long before such thoughts arise, namely, the question of who is most vulnerable to being dragged to the brink of despair, and why.

Siti Aminah Tardi, a researcher and public advocate at the Indonesia Legal Resource Center (ILRC) who also serves as a Commissioner of the National Commission on Violence Against Women (Komnas Perempuan) for the 2020–2025 term, noted that individuals with intersecting, for example minority identities, such as women who are victims of violence face distinct challenges when dealing with suicidal thoughts.

“Those most vulnerable to having suicidal thoughts or ending their lives are, first, women who are victims of gender-based violence and who do not receive support from those around them. Second are women from sexual minority groups in this case, our lesbian friends,” said Ami, as she is affectionately known, to Konde.co on Monday, September 14, 2026.

The gender-based vulnerability mentioned by Ami is supported by findings from the National Commission on Violence Against Women’s (Komnas Perempuan) 2025 Annual Report (CATAHU). Throughout 2025, 376,529 cases of gender-based violence against women were recorded, a 14.07 percent increase from the 330,097 cases in 2024 and the highest figure in the past decade. 

Sexual violence was the most prevalent form, followed by psychological violence with 15,727 cases, physical violence with 14,126 cases, and economic violence with 5,942 cases. A total of 89.76 percent of all these acts of violence occurred in the domestic or personal sphere at home and within intimate relationships.

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In terms of victim demographics, the 18-to-24 age group recorded the highest number of reports at 1,453 cases, followed by the 25-to-40 age group with 985 cases, a young age range that precisely encompasses the ages of Binar and Amora.

The profound sorrow stemming from this trajectory is clearly etched in Ami’s memory as she recounts the case of NWR in Mojokerto, a young woman who had reported to the police about repeated sexual violence by her partner, Police Officer Randy Bagus Hari Sasongko, also a member of the police force. 

After being forced to have an abortion, NWR contacted the National Commission on Violence Against Women (Komnas Perempuan), but shortly thereafter took her own life. No assessment of suicide risk was conducted at that time.

“The case had already been reported to the police, and she had reached out to the National Commission on Violence Against Women. Since we didn’t have a mechanism to identify potential suicide risk at the time, we referred her to the PPA. The PPA also reached out to her, but then there was a holiday break, so she didn’t receive the help she needed and ultimately decided to take her own life,” she recalled.

Questions regarding self-harm tendencies are now included in the initial assessment form, and high-risk complainants are prioritized. However, the sense of guilt has never truly gone away. 

Compounding issues also arise for women from sexual minority groups; based on Ami’s experience as a counselor, this vulnerability manifests as double rejection: ostracized by the public while simultaneously being cut off from her own home.

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“When she realized she was a lesbian, it triggered an internal struggle, a restless battle of the soul between accepting her sexual orientation or not. In fact, for example, there was once a lesbian friend whose parents, upon finding out, forced her into a kind of rape, it was indeed rape and it happened,” she said, referring to the practice of corrective rape carried out in the name of forced “healing” by the family.

Another layer of vulnerability that is rarely seen weighs heavily on adult victims of incest. Emotional and financial dependence on the perpetrator, who also supports the family means that speaking out would shatter the victim’s entire way of life. 

The way the media portrays these tragedies, according to Ami, also silences victims even further.

“If we look at how the media reports on suicides, they usually just say there was a family conflict or that the person was heartbroken, without any broader or deeper investigation. Why isn’t a broader or deeper investigation conducted? Because suicide is considered a disgrace, considered a sin,” Ami pointed out. 

It is this theological stigma that also collided with Binar’s experience, as the mental health issues she faced were superficially dismissed as a matter of insufficient religious devotion. Furthermore, when addressing the most concrete barriers faced by survivors, Ami directly pointed to the suffocating economic reality. 

“First, of course, there’s the cost, because not all psychologists are available in rural areas, let alone clinical psychologists. Even if someone were to pay out of pocket, as far as I know, an hour’s session costs between 600 and 750 (thousand),” she said.

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The next obstacle is the approach of psychologists who adopt a victim-centered perspective. 

“It’s definitely different to handle a case to provide counseling to someone who, for example, might be heartbroken but doesn’t have suicidal thoughts, compared to a victim of incest, a long-term victim of domestic violence, or a victim of sexual violence. It’s also important for psychologists to have that victim-centered perspective,” she explained.

Warning signs, Ami said, rarely manifest as loud screams; they come in whispers and, in her view, are very easy to overlook.

“If someone says, ‘Miss, I want to meet with you,’ that’s a sign to me. Or if someone suddenly calls me at 1 a.m., that’s a sign,” Ami revealed.

Drawing from her advocacy work on suicide cases involving survivors of sexual violence, Ami then drew parallels between three distinct time periods: the NWR case (2021), leading up to the enactment of the TPKS Law), the tragedy of a female college student in Manado (2025/2026), and the desperate act of a woman in front of the State Palace (2023). 

All three cases lead to a bitter conclusion: the enactment of the Sexual Violence Crimes Act has not automatically dismantled the strongholds of patriarchal culture, nor has it fully become a safe path to mental recovery for victims of sexual violence, especially those who have experienced suicidal thoughts or attempted suicide.

“If we compare the 2021 NWR, the 2025 IM Manado case, and the 2023 incident at the State Palace where someone attempted self-immolation, there has been no significant change in the cultural context that views sexual violence as not a disgrace, a context where victims must be believed and supported,” she emphasized. 

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In the IM case, the victim’s complaint was even left to gather dust on a desk at the university and was only addressed by authorities after the student had passed away. “It’s as if, to bring sexual violence cases to light, whether at NWR or IM in Manado, the victim has to die first,” said Ami.

Of the seven implementing regulations for the TPKS Law, one Presidential Regulation remains stalled. Comprehensive training for law enforcement officials will not be fully implemented until 2026, four years after the law was enacted and even then, it is supported by international donors due to the limited budget of the Ministry of Women’s Empowerment and Child Protection (PPPA).

In the 2025 fiscal year, the Ministry of PPPA has allocated only Rp96 billion in Physical Special Allocation Funds (DAK) for 42 regions (34 for PPA Technical Implementation Units, 22 for Temporary Shelter Homes) as well as Rp132 billion in Non-Physical Special Allocation Funds (DAK), which must be distributed among 304 provincial and district/city governments.

Yet the 2024 National Survey on Women’s Life Experiences (SPHPN) found that 1 in 5 Indonesian women has experienced Domestic Violence (KDRT), this budget is far too meager compared to actual needs, a situation exacerbated by the uneven distribution of Regional Technical Implementation Units for Women and Children’s Protection (UPTD PPA).

Challenges in Suicide Prevention

Benny Prawira Siauw, a suicidologist and founder of “Into the Light” a youth-led community focused on advocacy, analysis, research, and education regarding suicide prevention and mental health in Indonesia explained that suicide is influenced by the complex interplay of biological, psychological, social, and structural factors. 

According to him, the psychosocial aspects are the easiest to address. Indonesia already has the Mental Health Law No. 18/2014, which was incorporated into the Health Law No. 17/2023; however, Benny noted that the issue lies in implementation including a 24-hour hotline that remains incompletely integrated, hindered by the country’s archipelagic geography and the limited availability of psychiatrists.

“When it comes to the availability of psychiatrists, not every province has enough. Most psychiatrists and psychologists are still concentrated on the island of Java. Their distribution hasn’t been regulated, nor has the distribution of their fees. So how can we provide a responsive system?” he explained to Konde.co on Thursday (September 17, 2026). 

One effective measure to reduce suicide deaths, according to Benny, is to restrict access to means of suicide, such as installing fences or nets in high-risk areas and tightening regulations on pesticide use. 

Meanwhile, preventing suicidal thoughts is more complex because it is linked to social issues such as poverty, layoffs, and unemployment, which require a cross-sectoral approach.

In his view, these various efforts need to be consolidated into a national suicide prevention strategy by adapting the WHO’s National Suicide Prevention Strategy framework.

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“But of course, we need to adapt it further to the Indonesian context, since we have a different culture and infrastructure. So there’s still a long way to go when it comes to this policy. But that doesn’t mean nothing exists, the laws are in place; we just need to get serious about how that framework can be implemented in society,” he explained.

Benny acknowledged that while there have been campaigns related to mental health and suicide prevention carried out by non-governmental organizations or communities, there remains a gap regarding the availability of clinical services on the ground, which fall under the government’s purview.

“The gap remains because, ultimately, the decision on whether to expand access or even out the distribution of mental health professionals lies with the government. And this, in my opinion, is where the gap is really huge,” he said. 

Another issue that remains overlooked, according to Benny, is support for caregivers. So far, what communities and CSOs have done is provide affordable capacity-building for caregivers so they can better understand how to provide support. 

Support for caregivers has also been neglected. The burden is often placed on a single person and glorified, even though, in his view, this constitutes systemic neglect.

“We often see how a single person becomes the sole resource for those who are suicidal. That’s not sustainable, because what we should be building is a circle of care. That way, people can take turns since everyone has their own commitments and priorities that change daily, so they can support and look out for one another,” he explained. 

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“But this doesn’t happen because the problem is that this role of caregiver is also viewed as a personal act of kindness. If you want to help, you’re seen as having a noble spirit, being very kind, and so on. So, we glorify the individual’s character when in reality there is systemic neglect,” he added. 

In addition to caregivers, according to Benny, support for those who have lost a loved one is also important. For example, by providing special leave. 

“So those who have lost a loved one to suicide should, at the very least, be granted more bereavement leave. This is because the process is usually sudden, so the grief they feel is also deeply shocking. They need time to process their emotions. In the UK, it’s not just about leave, they’re also assisted in accessing a psychologist,” said Benny. 

Benny emphasized that a support system is absolutely essential, and there needs to be a systematic policy that does not neglect this issue. This is because being a caregiver is quite a heavy burden, but it shouldn’t be glorified. What’s needed is tangible support. 

A Civil Safety Net Running Out of Steam

Community initiatives that fill service gaps, such as the one criticized by Benny have also run out of steam. The BISA Helpline (formerly the LISA Helpline ) has been officially on hiatus since early 2026. 

“So since the beginning of this year, starting in January, we’ve been on hold,” confirmed Ani Yulinda, a volunteer manager at the BISA Helpline, to Konde.co on Tuesday (September 22, 2026). 

This service was born out of the pain of loss. The founders of the Bali Bersama Bisa Foundation launched it in the midst of the pandemic, following the death of a close friend by suicide.

“They had a personal story back then, they lost a friend to suicide. So that’s what seemed to drive them to think, ‘Oh my, why don’t we just create something that can support people who might actually be having suicidal thoughts, but what they really, really need is someone to listen,’” Ani recalled.

Initially focused solely on the Bali region, the popularity of the BISA Helpline exploded unexpectedly. 

Ani recalls how the service, with its limited resources, overwhelmed everyone to the point that the devices they were using malfunctioned. 

“It got to the point where, oh my gosh we were getting thousands of messages at once, and the device just crashed,” Ani recounted.

Ani noted that most people who contacted the BISA Helpline were women in the 20–30 age group. This underscores the vulnerability highlighted by Ami, though it also signals that many women in this demographic are now brave enough to seek help. 

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“The vast majority are indeed women. And they come from all over friends on Java, Kalimantan, and Sulawesi, it’s evenly distributed, with the largest demographic age range being around 20 to 30 years old,” Ani explained.

Based on Ani’s experience, the main reason driving them to reach out via WhatsApp is a profound sense of isolation. 

“They feel like they’re all alone. So they have no one they can confide in or talk to,” she continued.

The BISA Helpline has also noted a tendency among young people to avoid seeking help from official services due to fear of judgment, inaccessible locations, or past negative experiences with poor-quality care. 

The surge in people seeking help turned into a technical burden that was impossible to bear. Operations ran without financial backing; cell phones were passed from one volunteer to another; a subscription to a computerized system lasted only a year, until they eventually reverted to manual methods.

“A good system, one that’s capable and sufficient for these needs turns out to be expensive. So we need funding for the system, for IT, and everything else. That’s where the struggle was yesterday,” explained Ani. 

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As demand surged and volunteers grew scarce, the door to assistance was reluctantly shut tight. Nevertheless, according to Ani, ideally, a crisis service should operate 24 hours a day, nonstop, with paid professional staff. She believes that standard is impossible to fully sustain through volunteer work alone.

In addition to operational and financial issues, bearing the suffering of others every day also poses risks for volunteers. Although there is a “support buddy” system, Ani acknowledged that this support network remains fragile. Ani then pointed out a recurring systemic pattern: humanitarian initiatives flourish with high enthusiasm but eventually wither due to the lack of systemic support and government funding. 

“If we want this service to succeed, we should consider not relying solely on volunteers but also on full-time staff. If their availability fluctuates, that’s not ideal either,” she stated.

The State’s Promise Amid Gaps in Services

Konde.co subsequently contacted the Ministry of Health to confirm the high number of suicides and the inadequate availability of psychiatrists and psychologists.

In a written response dated September 21, 2026, the Indonesian Ministry of Health affirmed that self-harm and suicidal behavior are integral parts of the mental health system, not peripheral issues. 

The Ministry then outlined prevention programs such as Positive Parenting, First Aid for Psychological Trauma (P3LP), and mental health screenings as part of the Free Health Check (CKG) at community health centers.

For emergency services, the government relies on Healing119.id, which is staffed by licensed clinical psychologists. From July 31, 2025, to August 31, 2026, there were 269,283 interactions via phone and WhatsApp, an average of 600 calls and 300 messages per day. These figures represent the cumulative total of interactions, not unique individuals.

Konde.co also attempted to access the service via WhatsApp on Saturday (September 26) evening to learn about the process and wait times. The initial message  received an automated reply stating that the user had been placed in the queue and would be assisted by a clinical psychologist or counselor. 

However, after waiting for over three hours and sending follow-up messages to inquire about the status of the queue, there was no response from the staff as of the publication of this article. We conducted this experiment as part of our service accessibility testing, without disclosing the content of private conversations, which, according to Healing119.id’s terms and conditions, are confidential.

The Ministry of Health’s own estimates indicate that 31 million people aged 15 and older suffer from mental disorders, with 19 million experiencing emotional disturbances and another 12 million suffering from depression.

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The gap between the massive availability of official channels and the closure of the BISA Helpline highlights that the public’s need for a safe space consistently exceeds existing capacity. The Ministry of Health itself acknowledges this critical gap. 

“We realize that monitoring of individuals who are unable to connect with services or who are disconnected from follow-up still needs to be strengthened,” the Ministry of Health wrote in its response to Konde.co. 

Indonesia itself does not yet have fully reliable national data on suicide. The National Crime Investigation Agency’s Center for Criminal Investigation (Pusiknas Bareskrim Polri) recorded 1,270 cases from January through November 7, 2025. Men accounted for about 80% of the cases, while women accounted for about 20%. 

However, police data is based solely on administrative death reports, so it does not yet reflect all cases. 

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates Indonesia’s suicide rate at 2.6 per 100,000 people, but classifies Indonesia’s data as low quality. 

A 2024 study by *The Lancet Regional Health Southeast Asia* estimates that the underreporting rate for suicide cases in Indonesia reaches 859.10%, the highest in the world. The official figures circulating are believed to be merely the tip of the iceberg compared to the hidden reality, driven by fear of stigma and systemic neglect. 

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Beyond these numbers, the struggles experienced by Asa, Daya, Binar, and Amora highlight systemic issues in mental health services, as well as how they continue to strive to survive and adapt amid existing limitations.

(This report is a special edition from Konde.co for September 2026, released in conjunction with Suicide Prevention Month.)

Special Edition Team
Coordinator: Luthfi Maulana Adhari
Reporters: Luthfi Maulana Adhari, Anita Dhewy, and Elvina Manuella Simajuntak
Data and Design: Luthfi Maulana Adhari
Editor: Luviana Ariyanti

Note:
Asa, Daya, Binar, and Amora are not their real names. To protect their privacy, security, and personal safety, the names of these suicide survivors have been changed.

If you are currently experiencing depression or suicidal thoughts, please do not lose hope. Depression and mental health conditions can be treated with the help of mental health professionals. You can find information on how to maintain your mental well-being at www.intothelightid.org/tentang-bunuh-diri.

In an emergency, you can reach Healing119 by dialing 119 (extension 8) for initial psychological support. This service is free and available via voice call or WhatsApp chat at www.healing119.id. If you require emergency medical assistance, you may also call 119.

Translator: Theresia Pratiwi Elingsetyo Sanubari