This blog post was inspired by a recent conversation with my friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson. On her blog I’m NOT Disordered Aimee draws on her extensive personal experience. We were discussing some of those experiences when she stopped and told me she had something important to say before she continued. She said sharing what she’s been through in the past — and in some cases still goes through — is incredibly valuable and helpful to her. But she wanted to check that I was okay hearing the details. I told her I was fine, and reassured her I’d let her know if that ever changed. Afterwards, it struck me what an important exchange that had been. It said a great deal about our friendship.
Difficult Topics
That kind of trust isn’t unique to me and Aimee. It’s relevant to a wide range of relationships and situations. It’s particularly valuable where conversations touch on “difficult” topics such as mental illness, trauma, rape, addiction, abuse, self-harm, overdose, loss, death, bereavement, or suicidality.
I put “difficult” in quotes deliberately. These subjects are too often considered taboo. We avoid talking about them at all if we can. Where that’s not possible, we discuss them as briefly as possible, keen to move on to safer topics. Holiday plans. The weather. The mundane happinesses and problems we all experience at one time or another. Life isn’t always mundane, however. Being able to share and discuss the difficult, messy, awkward, and painful aspects of our lives can be profoundly validating. It can also deepen and reinforce our connections with those we love and care about.
It’s worth pointing out that everyone is different. What might not be problematic for one person to hear or talk about may be triggering for someone else.
Am I Really Okay?
I was being honest when I told Aimee I didn’t have any issues with what she was sharing with me. That’s also true of me and Fran, and other friends. If they feel safe sharing with me, I want to hear. That’s the case no matter what they want to tell me, or whether those experiences are historic or current.
It’s worth exploring how I can be okay hearing about what are sometimes very serious, traumatic, even life-threatening experiences and situations. The following is excerpted from High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder.
In the early days of our friendship Fran was manic, wild, and unpredictable. Many people — including some who had known her a long time — were fearful and worried about her behaviour. I was unsure whether my ability to remain calm in her presence was healthy, or a sign that I was ill-equipped to support her effectively. The following is from my diary.
I never know how Fran is doing, not really. She can seem so fragile, so close to the edge, so hurt and hurting . . . and then the next moment we are laughing, or mad at each other. I’m learning not to be scared, not to worry, but instead to care. So many people are scared for her. They can’t deal with her, can’t cope at all. Perhaps I should be like that. Am I a danger to Fran because I am so calm? Perhaps I am being naive. Or perhaps it makes me precisely who she needs.
That final sentence was the turning point in my understanding. Positive, supportive and vigilant care is far healthier for Fran than any amount of fear-based worrying.
This message is captured in our mantra don’t worry about me, care about me. It’s a principle that has informed and guided my caring relationship with Fran and other friends over the years. As valuable as the reminder is, it doesn’t explain how I can be okay with friends sharing the “messy” details of their lives with me. There are two key aspects to this: my lack of equivalent experience and my sense of curiosity.
Lived Experience
I have little or no first-hand experience of mental illness, trauma, or the other “difficult” topics I mentioned earlier. This can be an obstacle to communication. Some people feel safer and more comfortable discussing things with people with similar lived experience. They don’t have to spend time setting the scene, explaining or justifying themselves, because the other person gets it.
There are other reasons someone might turn elsewhere when they’re in need of someone to talk to. I’ve discussed some of these in It’s Time to Talk. But What If You Don’t Want To? I used to feel sad if I wasn’t my friends’ go-to person, but I get it now. What matters is whether my friends have someone or somewhere to turn when they need help, support, or guidance. It doesn’t always have to be me.
Paradoxically, my lack of equivalent experience can be helpful. I’m less likely to assume I know what’s going on for my friend or imagine that what worked for me is relevant to their situation. I’m also less likely to be triggered by the details of what my friend has gone through or is going through at the time.
Curiosity
On more than one occasion I’ve told Aimee and Fran that it’s very educational being their friend. That might sound as though I’m trivialising their experiences, but I’m genuinely interested to learn about their lives and what they’ve gone through. Being curious helps me appreciate their situation and makes me more able to support them effectively. I’ve written about this previously in How to Educate Yourself about Your Friend’s Mental Health Condition.
You might wonder why you’d want to take the time and trouble to learn about your friend’s health condition. What’s in it for you? Fran never asked or expected me to educate myself about her situation, but our friendship has benefited enormously in many ways. Yours can too. [...] Most important of all, you will demonstrate your commitment to your friendship. Your friend is far more than their illness and symptoms, but by taking time to learn what you can, you’re acknowledging the impact they have in your friend’s life.
An important aspect of curiosity is asking the right questions. That’s certainly true of me and Aimee. She once wrote in an open letter to me on her blog, “I love that you ask me questions when I’m struggling because it’s much more helpful than you just sitting there and nodding along, pretending to understand.”
What if I’m Not Okay?
I told Aimee I’d let her know if I was ever not okay with her talking about her experiences. There’s nothing I’d refuse in principle to discuss, but it’s conceivable something might happen that I’d have difficulty with. I once asked her to check in with me before sending me photos or content that could be problematic. Her “Do you want to see?” means a lot. It reminds us both that there are — or could be — boundaries. It hasn’t happened so far but I’d feel able to say “No thank you” or “Not right now” if the situation arose.
The same is true with other friends. “There’s no TMI [too much information] between us!” feels great in a friendship, but there are times when I’ve hit that boundary. That’s not a problem. Quite the opposite. Being aware of your respective boundaries is valuable in any relationship. There have been times when a friend has asked me not to talk about a particular topic because they’ve found it triggering, or because they’ve not had the capacity to handle it there and then. On at least one occasion they told me later they could discuss it now if I still needed to.
Aimee’s Perspective
I invited Aimee to contribute her thoughts on this important topic.
As a survivor of rape and sexual abuse, I’m incredibly aware and cautious of the fact that sharing my story and talking to others about my trauma can be upsetting to a lot of people. I also recognise that it can trigger other survivors to think more about their own memories and to perhaps experience very upsetting and potentially de-stabilising flashbacks of their experiences.
In all honesty, I find these factors difficult because sometimes I find myself feeling a bit jealous and resentful in thinking; “I wish I didn’t know about any of this too!” It’s also challenging because I had an incredibly naive childhood, which meant that the rape and abuse were both shocking and unbelievable. I didn’t have much knowledge about just how wrong it was. It was therefore difficult to realise it was something that I actually needed to report to the Police. The fact that the naivety had such a negative impact has influenced my opinion of how detailed I should be disclosing the rape and abuse in my blog posts and other public content I create and the work that I do.
— Aimee Wilson
I’m grateful to Aimee for her contribution. Check out her blog I’m NOT Disordered.
Over to You
In this post I’ve discussed the importance of honesty and trust when discussing potentially difficult topics with friends. I’ve touched on some of the reasons people might not want to share, and described how I’m able to hear friends share their experiences without finding it triggering or distressing. Finally, I’ve mentioned the importance of respecting each other’s boundaries.
Do you have people you can discuss personal or difficult experiences with? Is it easier for you to share if they’ve had relevant or equivalent experience? What makes you feel safe — or unsafe — with people? Do you find it hard listening to friends or loved ones talk about what they’re going through? How do you deal with that?
Fran and I would love to hear your thoughts, either in the comments below or via our contact page.
Photo by Roberto Nickson at Unsplash
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