Gum on My Shoe

This post was inspired by a conversation with Fran a few weeks ago. I forget what we were discussing, but I realised I was struggling a little to follow what she was telling me. Fran hates being interrupted because it breaks her train of thought, so I did my best to figure things out without asking for clarification. On this occasion I guessed right, and our conversation continued unimpeded. Afterwards, I joked with her how it’s often like that when we’re talking. She’ll give me a few snippets of information without making clear how they relate or how she feels about them. “It’s like you give me two or three pieces from a 2,000 piece jigsaw and expect me to figure out what the picture is!” She laughed. “But you do it so well!” It got me thinking about how we put things together more generally, and about seeing — or discovering — the bigger picture. When I was growing up in Liverpool, one branch of my mother’s family was heavily into jigsaw puzzles. It wasn’t uncommon to visit a...

I don’t think people understand how important your coffee mug is. It literally is the thing you hold that starts your whole day. — Elyse Salpeter The above quotation is excepted from a recent post on Threads with permission of the author. The full thread is worth checking out, not least for the photos of coffee mugs posted by its readers. As an inveterate coffee drinker, it made me smile, and reminded me of a passage I've seen many times online. You may think that you are completely insignificant in this world. But someone drinks coffee every morning from their favorite cup that you gave them. Someone heard a song on the radio that reminded them of you. Someone read the book you recommended, and plunged headfirst into it. Someone remembered your joke and smiled, returning home from work in the evening. Someone loves themself a little more, because you gave them a compliment. Never think that you have no influence whatsoever. Your trace, which you leave behind with even a...

We cannot help everyone. No matter how loving and patient and compassionate we might be, it isn’t going to work with everyone. That isn’t a failing in us, or in them, it’s just how it is. This has been hard for me to accept: that I can support and help Fran in all the ways I do, and connect meaningfully with others in different ways, yet fail utterly with others, including people I care about very much. Sometimes we need to accept that we cannot be there for everybody. Sometimes we need to recognise the limits of “be who you are, do what you can.” I do not personally feel there is any shame in this. I don’t know how and why it works for me and Fran. It is certainly not because of anything special in me. It is simply how it is.   Photo by Toa Heftiba at Unsplash.  

Check out our top posts for the past month. Posts are listed by the number of page views they attracted during the month, most popular first. It’s Not Enough / Never Enough The Box on the Shelf: A Strategy for Handling Difficult Issues and Situations Shhhhhhh! A Friend’s Guide to Secrets One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy: Encounters With the Absurd Man It’s Time to Talk. But What If You Don’t Want To? Thank You Anyway: The Gift of Ingratitude How Do I Feel Now? Living with Alexithymia I’m Weak and What’s Wrong With That? Six Qualities and Twelve Men I Admire: Positive Thoughts for International Men’s Day Togetherness Apart: Walking on the Beach With Friends Our most visited pages were: Contact Us Our books Resources About Us News and Appearances Testimonials   Photo by Martin Baker.  

I cherish the boat we built together. It keeps me afloat when the waves of grief come rolling in. — Dances with Dan: Embracing Grief National Grief Awareness Week is dedicated to raising awareness about grief, offering support to those grieving, and building understanding around the grieving process. It recognises that grief is a natural response to loss and works to break down the stigma that often surrounds what is a deeply personal journey. It’s an opportunity to foster compassion, encourage open conversations, and create a more supportive environment for everyone affected by loss. The theme for Grief Awareness Week 2024 (December 2 – 8) is Shine a Light. The light I’d like to shine is that there’s no wrong way to grieve. It’s important to remember this, because it’s easy to fall into thinking we’re doing it wrong, too much, or not enough. Part of the problem is we’re taught there are right ways of grieving, without acknowledging that these may not work for everyone....

When you go home, do you look around and wonder, “Who are these people, where did I even come from?” I mean, you look at them all, sitting there, you know... they look familiar, but who the hell are they? — Claudia, Home for the Holidays A few weeks ago I mentioned to Fran that I needed to find something to write about. Without hesitation, she suggested I write about what Thanksgiving means to me. I said I couldn’t really do that as I’m not an American, but I could imagine I’d feel somewhat the way I do celebrating Christmas as an atheist. That is, conflicted. Fran paused, smiling. I realised what she’d done. She’d led me into discovering an angle to explore. I reminded her she’d done the same twelve years ago when she suggested I write a book about being friends with someone with mental illness. Both ideas were too good for me to dismiss! Hopefully, I joked, the blog post wouldn’t take as long to write as our book had. Christmas is a religious celebration of Christ’s birth, y...

We are all perfectly imperfect. — Fran Houston Observed each year on November 19, International Men’s Day (IMD) celebrates the positive value men bring to the world, their families and communities, and raises awareness of men’s health and well-being. The theme for 2024 is “Positive Male Role Models.” As I explained in a 2022 article on gender identity , I’ve never been big on heroes or role models. I nevertheless explored my relationship with some of the most influential men in my life. These included my father, uncles, one of my male cousins, as well as two characters from fiction: Sam Gamgee (JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings ) and Jimmy Perez from the TV detective series Shetland . I’ve also written about four men who inspire me in different ways: my son Michael Baker, Johnny Benjamin MBE, and friends Quinn Brown and Peter McDonnell. I covered less savoury aspects of what it means to be a man in last year’s IMD post: Big Boys Cry Too: Challenging Toxic Masculinity for In...

I need the sea because it teaches me. — Pablo Neruda Being out in nature is often advanced as a counter to depression and other mental health difficulties. I’d never go so far. Mental illness can have many different causes and its symptoms are not so readily lifted. Having said that, spending time in the natural world can take us out of our present situation, both literally and figuratively. Alone or in trusted company, such times afford us the opportunity to gain distance from, and perspective on, whatever may be going on for us. I was reminded of this the other day. Fran was telling me of the great time she’d spent the day before with a mutual friend of ours on Ferry Beach in Scarborough, Maine. The setting itself, the companionship, the conversation, had meant a lot to Fran. I thought back to when she lived on Peaks Island, when we were first friends. She’d walk on the beach there, occasionally sharing her location with me so I could follow along virtually. She’d return...

Every teardrop is a waterfall. ― Coldplay It’s almost a commonplace that it helps to talk things over with someone. From Time to Talk Day to ITV’s current Take Your Mate on Date campaign we’re encouraged to reach out when we need support and to be there for friends who need us. Fran and I are passionate advocates for mutually supportive friendships. We know first-hand the value of sharing openly and honestly with people we trust. As important as the message is it overlooks one fact. It’s not always easy to be there for someone who’s going through difficult times, especially if it’s someone we know well and care about. It can be hard to listen without interrupting or offering suggestions and fixes. We may also find we’ve taken some of the other person’s stress, anxiety, or worry onto ourselves. These responses are understandable but in general they’re counter-productive. They get in the way of providing genuine help and support. Fran and I were discussing this a few weeks a...

Check out our top posts for the past month. Posts are listed by the number of page views they attracted during the month, most popular first. It’s Not Enough / Never Enough Shhhhhhh! A Friend’s Guide to Secrets The Box on the Shelf: A Strategy for Handling Difficult Issues and Situations One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy: Encounters With the Absurd Man It’s Time to Talk. But What If You Don’t Want To? Thank You Anyway: The Gift of Ingratitude I’m on My Way: Thoughts Inspired by Ed Sheeran’s “Castle on the Hill” Being a Man: Exploring My Gender Identity for International Men’s Day Big Boys Cry Too: Challenging Toxic Masculinity for International Men’s Day Do More of What You’re Good at and Keep Good People Close: What I’ve Learned about Prioritising Mental Health in the Workplace Our most visited pages were: Contact Us Resources Our books News and Appearances About Us Testimonials   Photo of Cullercoats by Martin Baker.  

Our friends — how distant, how mute, how seldom visited and little known. And I, too, am dim to my friends and unknown; a phantom, sometimes seen, often not. Life is a dream surely. — Virginia Woolf, The Waves As we shared in a recent blog post, Fran and I have been looking into end of life planning. I’m particularly interested in legacy work, which focuses on what we wish to leave behind. It can include physical items, but also writing, photographs, videos, and more. In the words of end of life doula Leona Oceania of Die Well Death Education, “legacy work is perhaps one of the greatest gifts you can provide to your friends, family, and loved ones.” Fran and I were talking recently about her mother who is in her nineties. She commented that she knew her mom “maybe 10 percent.” This caught my attention. “Legacy work,” I ventured, “is so the people we leave behind will know more than 10 percent.” Fran asked how much I knew her. I thought a moment before answering. “It depends ...

But what counted was how you behaved while death let you live, and how you met death when life released you. — Edith Pearlman It’s hard to imagine anything more personal than our relationship to death, yet few of us give it more than a passing thought. I’ve mourned those I’ve lost, but until recently I’d scarcely considered what death itself means to me, how I wish to approach mine, or what legacy I’d like to leave. I was eighteen years old when my father died. Everything was handled by my mother and other family members. I remember his cremation service, the coffin retreating behind the velour curtain, but my contribution was limited to choosing a few words to go on the order of service. (“How sad the song.”) My mother died in 2018 at the age of ninety-eight. I played no part in the funeral arrangements, the sale of her house, or the execution of her will despite being a named executor and beneficiary. I was content, relieved even, to leave it to others. It means, though,...