"Yes! Exactly!" When You and Your Friend Are on the Same Page

The inspiration for this post was a recent chat conversation with my friend Jen. In the space of an hour, I twice said something to which she replied “Yeah. Exactly.” That simple validation meant a lot because it confirmed we were on the same page. Thinking about it afterwards, it struck me how important this kind of validation can be.

It’s particularly helpful when the experience or situation being shared isn’t common to both people involved. That’s often the case when I’m talking with someone I don’t know, or if we’re discussing their mental or physical health, suicidality or self-harm, trauma, rape, or abuse. I’ve written elsewhere how I approach such situations.

• How to Give Mental Health Help and Advice to People You Don’t Know
• How Are You, Really? Eight Things I’ve Learned About Suicidality and Self-Harm
• I Believe You. It wasn’t Your Fault. You Are not Alone. Being There for a Friend Who’s Survived Rape or Sexual Abuse
• Are You Okay Talking About This? Trust and Boundaries in Caring Friendships.

In this post I want to share a few ideas to keep you and the person you’re talking to on the same page, no matter what you’re discussing.

I’m Thinking That ...

It can be difficult to know what to say when you have no equivalent experiences to draw upon. It’s tempting to respond with “I understand” or “I get what you mean” — but do you, really? Comments such as these can come across as condescending, especially if your friend is aware of your lack of corresponding experience. It’s better to acknowledge that your understanding is, at best, partial. In such situations, I might begin an exploratory sentence with “I’m thinking that ...”

Imagine a friend tells you they’ve been sleeping poorly. Without further information, it might not be obvious how much this is affecting them. Chronic insomnia can be far more serious than is appreciated by those of us whose idea of a bad night’s sleep is taking longer than usual to drop off. It can affect almost every aspect of a person’s life, mentally and physically. Unless you’re certain your friend’s insomnia is temporary or has a simple explanation, don’t assume you understand what they’re dealing with.

Rather than leap in with potential fixes (sentences that begin “Have you tried ...” are never a good idea), attempted solidarity (“I’ve not been sleeping very well either.”), or trite commiserations (“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be awful.”) I might respond more tentatively, taking into account what I know about insomnia in general and my friend’s situation in particular.

“I’m thinking that makes everything you’re dealing with harder.”

A response like this lets my friend know I’m aware how devastating insomnia can be, without making assumptions about how serious it is for them. Rather than derail the conversation, I invite my friend to clarify my thinking, or go into more detail if they want to.

Did That Make Sense?

Another useful technique is to ask if what you’ve just said makes sense to your friend. You’re not telling them how things are. You’re sharing your perspective and inviting them to say if you’re on the right track. It’s equally useful when you’re talking about what’s going on for you and want to check your friend follows what you’re saying. You’re not necessarily asking if they agree with you, just if they understand what you said. If so, you can take things forward, confident you’re on the same page. If not, you have the opportunity to rephrase or reframe what you were saying. I tend to use it more in chat than in face-to-face conversation, especially if I’ve expressed something at length, or feel I might have strayed off track.

Yes! Exactly!

It feels great to have your thoughts and feelings validated, but it’s not an end point in itself. Think of those “Yes! Exactly!” or “That makes perfect sense to me!” moments as waypoints on your journey towards even greater understanding. No matter how many affirmations you receive, you can never fully understand what your friend is experiencing. As hard as it may be to hear, it’s not their responsibility to educate you. As I’ve written elsewhere with respect to mental health, “[w]hatever your friend’s situation, approach educating yourself about it as a privileged insight into something you may never fully understand.” The same applies to physical health and other significant life experiences, including trauma, abuse, self-harm, and suicidality. Take the time to inform yourself.

It would be remiss of me not to mention those delightful times when you and your friend come out with almost exactly the same thing at the same time. It’s a fabulous feeling and one that happens regularly with several of my friends. (Louise and Aimee, I’m thinking of you in particular!) At such times it’s hard to resist the sensation that we’re actually one mind in two bodies!

Errrrrm. No.

Remember that neither of you is psychic and it’s okay to not be perfectly attuned at all times. Checking in with each other is an opportunity to adjust your perspectives where necessary. Receiving an “Errrm, no, that’s not what I meant” or an “Actually no, I don’t understand what you just said” doesn’t imply a failure in communication. In fact, it’s a success, because you’ve learned something about yourselves and your mutual level of understanding.

Aimee and I have a running joke which began a couple of years ago. Neither of us can recall what we were discussing at the time, but we both remember me pausing to ask if Aimee understood what I was saying.

“Know what I mean?”

“— I thought I did!”

You maybe had to be there, but it still makes us laugh, and is a great reminder that not being on the same page can be fun too!

 

Photo by Benjamin Wedemeyer at Unsplash.

 

One Must Imagine Marty and John Happy: Two Strangers Discuss the Absurd in an Ambleside Pub

“Camus.” It wasn’t a question. I turned from the bar to find a man standing beside me. He nodded at the quotation emblazoned across my t-shirt.

“The struggle itself
towards the heights is
enough to fill a man’s
heart. One must
imagine Sisyphus
happy.”

The pub was almost empty. Mid-morning on a rainy Monday. More than a little damp my tweed jacket was draped over the back of my chair at a table in the middle of the room. I placed my order, a half of Swift Best (3.4% ABV) named for MV Swift, largest of the boats that plies the tourist routes on Windermere.

We introduced ourselves. It was immediately clear John knew a lot more than I do about Camus in particular and philosophy in general. A long-time interest on his part I think, whereas I only encountered Camus a couple of years ago. I was unaware of the philosopher’s lifelong interest in football, for example. Fortunately, I knew enough of his theories and writings to hold my own in what developed into a lively and engaging discussion.

John recommended a book by English existentialist philosopher and novelist Colin Wilson, noting that nowadays he uses it as a footrest when playing guitar. He mentioned music a couple of times and I wish I’d asked him about it. It’s clearly an important part of his life, as writing is to mine. I believe the book John was talking about is Wilson’s The Outsider. (“Through the works and lives of various artists, including Kafka, Camus, Hemingway, Hesse, Lawrence, Van Gogh, Shaw, Nietzsche and Dostoevsky, Wilson explored the psyche of the outsider, his effect on society and society’s on him.”) I’ve ordered myself a copy. As I don’t play guitar, I’ll probably read it.

Talk turned to Camus’ 1942 philosophical work The Myth of Sisyphus, from which my t-shirt quotation is taken. It was my introduction to the French-Algerian philosopher’s work. I know it well enough to have gleaned thoughts and ideas that resonate strongly with my own. Moving to Camus’ novels, I was happy we settled on the only one I’ve read in full. Published in 1942, the title of L’Étranger translates literally as “the foreigner” but the book has appeared in English editions as The Outsider (in the United Kingdom) and as The Stranger in the United States. It’s a dark tale but one I find compelling. I’ve read it in print, listened to it on audiobook, and watched an English-dubbed version of the 1967 Italian film Lo Straniero (The Stranger) directed by Luchino Visconti. John was unaware of the film and I was happy to recommend it to him.

Pausing our philosophical discussion, we touched on what had brought each of us to the Wateredge Inn that day. John was on a coach trip, though from where I don’t know. I shared that I was on vacation, staying a couple of miles away, and that I’d previously stayed in the Quaysiders Club apartments across the road and loved being able to walk to the pub of an evening. I mentioned it was one of my happy places and that I’ve blogged about it previously. I gave him a contact card with details of the blog and my social media accounts. I rarely have any cause to hand them out and was relieved to find a few in my wallet. John commented that as I’d written about happy places I could write about miserable places too. It’s an idea I might take up in the future.

He told me a story about a time he went to France with a group of friends. They stayed overnight somewhere in England — Seaford? — before crossing the Channel but everything went wrong and he hated the place because of it. In France, he met up with someone who spontaneously said of the same English town, “Oh I love that place!” We laughed and agreed it demonstrated the power of perspective. I’d add that our feelings about a place or situation are essentially arbitrary and can change — or be changed — in a moment.

This relates well to Camus’ theory of the absurd, which I summarised as a response to “mankind’s need to find meaning in a universe that doesn’t give a shit.” This seemingly bleak perspective is saved from nihilistic despair by recognising that we are free to find our own meaning and purpose. That day, for example. I’m no fan of heavy rain, but without it John and I wouldn’t have met. Likewise if I’d chosen a different t-shirt, stood further down the bar, or taken a phone call before ordering my drink. Serendipity? Happenstance? The universe doesn’t give a damn about my search for meaning or purpose, but I do. I choose to smile and call my life richer for meeting this stranger at the bar. My little bit of Camusian rebellion.

I could have stood talking with John for hours but at a certain point it felt right to bring the conversation to a close. We shook hands and I returned to my table, leaving John at the bar. A moment later, on a whim, I went back and asked for a photo and to confirm he was okay with me sharing it online. He was happy to agree. Later that day I posted the photo on social media with the following description.

This is John. We got chatting at the bar when he commented on my Albert Camus t-shirt. Brilliant conversation about Camus, his ideas and novels, other philosophers (of which John is far more knowledgeable than me), happy places, miserable places, expectations, blogging ... Thanks for the conversation, John. There’s a more than passing chance it will feature in a blog post in the none too distant future!

It led to a short discussion with my friend Cal regarding Camus’ L’Étranger and why The Outsider is a better English title than The Stranger. To be honest, I think both work, for different reasons. The principal character Meursault is certainly a societal outsider, unable to understand, relate to, or fake the responses considered appropriate by those around him. This is something I relate to, not least in his inability to express the expected level of grief at his mother’s death.

But the words strange and stranger are also highly relevant to the story, the latter both in the sense of increasingly strange and as someone you don’t know. Interestingly, the word “strange” appears just once in my English translation of the book. It’s elsewhere given as “queer” in the original sense of that word. At one point, Meursault refers to his own strangeness (queerness) and its impact on others. He’s talking here of his girlfriend Marie.

Then she said she wondered if she really loved me or not. I, of course, couldn’t enlighten her as to that. And, after another silence, she murmured something about my being “a queer fellow.” “And I daresay that’s why I love you,” she added. “But maybe that’s why one day I’ll come to hate you.”

To which I had nothing to say, so I said nothing.

The word is rendered as “strange” in Visconti’s 1967 film adaptation.

Then she said I that I was strange somehow and that she loved me because I was strange. But that maybe some day she would come to hate me for just that reason.

The story as a whole turns on Meursaut’s unpremeditated, almost accidental, murder of a man he’s never met before and knows nothing about. It occurs to me that John and I were no less strangers when we met at the bar of the Wateredge Inn than Meursault and the unnamed Arab he encountered on the beach of Algiers. The outcomes of the two meetings were, thankfully, very different.

I’m reminded of two quotations. The first is widely attributed to the Irish poet William Butler Yeats. “There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven’t met yet.” That’s very much how I feel about to my short encounter with John. The second is by Virginia Woolf from her novel The Waves.

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.

This is a favourite of mine, reflecting as it does the essential strangeness of us all, even to those who believe they know us well. In all of this, there’s an echo of a conversation I had years ago in the toilet of a bar in Newcastle. The other guy instigated that conversation too, responding to what I had on my t-shirt at the time.

“So, where are your roots?”

It’s not every day you get asked a question like that in the gents’ toilet at Bar Loco. At least, it’s not every day I get asked that in the gents’ toilet at Bar Loco. Then again, I’m not there very often.

It was the t-shirt, of course. My American Roots t-shirt. Specifically, given I was standing at the urinal, the back of the shirt which asks WHERE ARE YOUR ROOTS? in sans serif caps.

Caught off-guard, mid pee, I stumbled for an answer. “Well,” I said, looking down at my chest. “I’m not American. The shirt is. It was a gift from my bestie in Maine. I’m from Liverpool.”

I can think of one more conversation with a stranger that was inspired by a t-shirt I was wearing. I was sitting in my then favourite coffee shop, Caffè Nero in Newcastle, before heading to a mental health event. A young guy at the next table noticed my t-shirt approvingly. “Fucking good shirt, man.”

All told, my conversation with John lasted no more than ten minutes, but it left me feeling invigorated. Proud of myself, even. It’s something I’ve rarely been able to do. Engage fully in conversation with someone I don’t know at all. John has my details if he wants to connect but if not, that’s fine too. The conversation itself was enough to fill this man’s heart.

PS: John, if you’re reading this, I wish you an absurd life!

 

Photo by Martin Baker at the Wateredge Inn, Ambleside, July 2025.

 

Are You Okay Talking About This? Trust and Boundaries in Caring Friendships

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

 

How to Be There for a Friend: Seven Suggestions for Time to Talk Day

When you can’t look on the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark.

— Unknown

Falling this year on February 6, Time to Talk Day focuses on creating supportive communities by having conversations with family, friends, or colleagues about mental health. By talking about our mental health we can better support ourselves and others.

For last year’s Time to Talk Day I explored something that’s rarely discussed in the context of this kind of conversation: repetition. This year, I’d like to offer a few practical tips for supporting friends and loved ones with their mental health. It’s easy enough to encourage people to talk, but how do you respond when they do?

These suggestions are based on my thirteen year mutually supportive friendship with my best friend Fran, who lives with bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, and chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME). For more tips and information check out our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder.

1. Talking about Mental Health Isn’t Easy. Don’t Make it Harder.

No one finds it easy to say they’re going through a tough patch and need someone to listen. Think about the last time you were feeling low, stressed, or struggling in some way with your physical or mental health, or with life in general. How easy was it for you to reach out? Your friend or loved one may be desperate for contact, help, and support, but find it really hard to take that first step.

Time to Talk Day reminds us that every conversation is a two way thing. The responsibility for connecting can’t rest solely on the shoulders of the person needing support. It falls to each of us to be open about what we’re going through, and proactive in checking in on others. It’s important to respect the fact that someone might not want to talk (this is something I’ve discussed previously) but don’t be put off by an initial “I’m fine” if you feel something is wrong. Following up with “Are you sure?” gives the other person permission to open up, confident that you really do want to hear what they have to say.

2. Mental Health Isn’t Just for Time to Talk Day

Don’t imagine you’ve done your duty as a friend because you had one chat over coffee on Time to Talk Day. Mental illness doesn’t pack itself away on February 7 until the next awareness event comes along. Your friend or loved one may need someone to talk to on any day of the year. That might be every now and again when things are especially tough for them, most days, or every day.

Fran’s mental health is part of her day-to-day reality, and we talk about it in that context. If she’s having a rough time, we talk about it. If I sense something is “off” in any way, I bring it up. As we like to say, vigilance is a team activity. When things are going well, we talk about whatever else is going on for us. Happy and sad. Good and not so good. Just like friends do the world over, whether mental illness is present in their lives or not.

3. Be an Accountability Buddy

Depression, anxiety, and other mental and physical health conditions including chronic fatigue, pain, and insomnia can make otherwise straightforward tasks difficult to accomplish. It can help to have an accountability buddy to keep us on track. Fran and I often share our tasks for the day with one another, especially any we’ve been putting off or are struggling to complete. Having an accountability partner keeps us focused, and feel less alone with our tasks. It’s satisfying to have someone to tell when we’ve ticked an item off our list, no matter how small or large it might seem to anyone else. It’s something I’ve done with other friends too, at different times. Taking a shower, putting out the trash, writing an e-mail, preparing a shopping list, cooking a meal, sorting through the mail; tasks such as these are easier to manage when we don’t feel alone in facing them.

4. Encouragment and Celebration

Encouragement goes hand in hand with accountability. You’re not responsible for someone else taking the steps necessary to become and stay as well as possible. However, you can make a huge difference by making it clear you’re on their team — and not just when they’re winning. Encouragement is more than offering a flippant “You can do it!” or admonishing them to “snap out of it” or go for a walk. Meaningful encouragement acknowledges what your friend or loved one is dealing with, including any restrictions there might be on what they can achieve at that moment. A good friend of mine occasionally requests a pep talk. I remind her of the many things she’s accomplished, and help bring her focus to whatever task or situation she’s having difficulty with. That might seem a small thing to do, but it helps. Sometimes it’s small things that are most needed.

Celebrating with our friends is also incredibly valuable. Be the person your friend turns to when they’ve met their goals, no matter how small they might seem by society’s standards. Taking that shower when depression makes everything feel like an assault on Everest; attending a social event despite crippling social anxiety; going six months — or six days — dry, clean, or free from self-harm; these are all huge achievements and worth of celebrating. We’ve discussed this previously in For the Win! Celebrate Your Successes in Your Own Way.

5. Offer Practical Help

Your friend or loved one might just need someone to talk to, but there may be times when we can offer practical help and support. The following list is not exhaustive

If someone struggles to use the telephone, offer to make a crucial call on their behalf. A friend recently asked me to do this, and I was happy to oblige.

It can be very difficult to know where to turn for help and support. If your friend is struggling to navigate professional services or health providers, offer to help them research options.

If you have a car and live close enough, consider offering a ride to appointments if they’d otherwise struggle to attend. If that’s not feasible, covering the cost of a taxi ride could make all the difference.

Being the first person someone thinks to call after a difficult appointment or when they’re distressed for any reason means a great deal to me. I’ve likewise kept friends company on calls or by chat when they’ve gone shopping or while they’ve been in hospital. Distance needn’t be an abstacle. Despite living on opposite sides of the Atlantic, Fran and I regularly accompany each other on walks, using voice or video calls.

If someone is lost in the middle of Europe, confused about how to get to their hotel, consider offering to track their location online and guide them to their destination. That one might seem unlikely, but I’ve acted as a human GPS for Fran on several occasions. As described in our book, “Fran and co. went to Cologne Zoo today, and then drove to Oberhausen. That was interesting because they got lost and I ended up navigating them to the hotel. Fran said it was like having an angel in the car with them! It meant a lot to me too.”

6. Encourage Professional Support

As valuable as it can be to have someone to talk things over with, friends and family are no substitute for professional support. Encourage your loved one to check in with their doctor, to take any medication they’ve been prescribed, and keep appointments. If they find it stressful or overwhelming to prepare for appointments, offer to help them draft notes to take along. For years now, I’ve helped Fran prepare notes for her psychiatrist appointments. Depending on the circumstances, it may be possible to attend appointments with them, virtually or otherwise. I’ve done this for Fran on several occasions.

7. It’s Not All About Mental Health

Mental health is just one aspect of a healthy friendship or relationship. We’re more than health conditions we live with, and no one wants to focus exclusively on issues and symptoms when there’s so much more going on to explore with those we care about and who care for us.

Be open to having a conversation about mental health whenever either of you wants to, but don’t make it the sole focus of your connection. When Fran and I first conceived the idea for our book, I told her I’d never looked on her as “someone living with illness.” I saw her as my friend. She replied, “That’s the point, Marty! It is how you are with me. People do not usually treat me that way once they know I have illness. It is a powerful thing. It has helped me see that I am not just my illnesses. I have value and gifts to give.”

In a similar way, one of my closest friends has told me several time she appreciates the fact we’re present in each other’s lives for the good stuff as well as when times are hard. That’s the difference we can all make. Not by having one conversation a year on Time to Talk Day, but by being present in each other’s lives.

Over to You

In this post I’ve shared a few ways to help support a friend or loved one. Fran and I would love to know what you think of them, and any tips, insights, or suggestions you have from your own experience. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by Matthew Ball at Unsplash.

 

Listen Very Carefully (But I'll Say It More than Once)

Falling this year on February 1, Time to Talk Day is dedicated to countering the stigma surrounding mental health. Last year, I discussed some of the reasons we might not want to talk about how we’re feeling. This time, I want to explore something that’s rarely discussed in the context of conversations about mental health: repetition. UK readers of a certain age may recall a catchphrase from the sitcom ’Allo ’Allo!, which ran from 1982 to 1992: “Listen very carefully. I shall say this only once.” Sometimes, though, our message isn’t fully received at the first attempt. Being prepared to say things more than once can make all the difference.

These thoughts were inspired by a recent video call with my friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson, who blogs at I’m NOT Disordered. We were talking about her experiences with the crisis team, specifically the initial conversation with the person who answers the phone. At times, these conversations have not gone well and we discussed how this might put people off seeking help. We talked about the training call handlers and crisis line staff receive and how important it is that they don’t exacerbate the distress someone’s in when they’ve mustered the courage to reach out. Aimee has generally had very good support from the nurses and other staff once they call her back. I suggested that if she needs their services again, she tells herself she just needs to get through the five minutes it will take for that initial conversation with the call handler, because once her details are logged and someone phones back, she’s very likely to get the care and support she needs. Aimee seemed to agree, and we continued talking about other things.

As we neared the end of our call, I wanted to remind Aimee about my suggestion, but I didn’t want to annoy her by implying she’d not been paying attention. I said something to that effect, and Aimee replied it was fine, go ahead. I repeated my idea and was glad I did. Although she’d heard me the first time, Aimee had thought I was talking generally and hadn’t realised how useful it could be to her personally. Thinking about our conversation afterwards, I realised there’s a more general point to be made about communicating effectively.

When you think about it, it’s amazing we manage to communicate anything to anyone, when all we have are the sounds we utter or the marks we make on paper or screen. Not only that, but each of us has our own set of values, hang-ups, and experiences. We’re scarcely aware of these in ourselves, let alone the people we’re talking to. We nevertheless assume our message has been received accurately by the person we’re communicating with, and that we’ve understood what they meant. In practice, there may be many reasons why this doesn’t happen.

We or the other person might have difficulty hearing, either because of a hearing impairment, or background noise. We might not be equally familiar with the language we’re using. There could be social or cultural differences, or problems understanding each other’s accent or dialect. We may be distracted by other things that are happening in our lives, or by what’s going on around us at the time. A funny example of distraction happened on a later video call with Aimee. At one point she didn’t seen to be paying attention to what I was saying. It turned out her adorable cat Ruby was just off camera, trying to steal food from Aimee’s bowl! We might find it hard to focus due to tiredness, pain, or issues such as depression, dissociation, or brain fog. We may process words and ideas differently. We might simply lose track of what’s being said, get bored, or find ourselves daydreaming. Text-based conversations such as online chat, text (SMS) messages, or emails have their own issues. For example, can be difficult to convey the feelings behind our words when all we have is text on a screen. For all these reasons and more, what we want to say may not make the journey unchanged, or at all.

It’s equally useful to confirm we’ve understood the other person correctly, especially if what they’re sharing is outside our personal experience. Not getting the message first time isn’t a problem, but continuing in error might be. Checking in allows you both to explore any areas of misunderstanding. Something as simple as “Can I just check I understand what you mean?” or “What I’m hearing is ...” allows you to confirm you’re on the same page.

A degree of common sense is important. It would be tedious to repeat everything that’s said just to be certain nothing was missed or misinterpreted. Nor does anyone like to feel they might not be paying attention or are unable to follow along. We can reasonably assume that most of what we say is being received more or less as we intended. But where there’s a hint of doubt or where the message is especially important, take a moment to clarify. Proceeding on the basis of a misunderstanding can cause more trouble further down the line.

Another aspect of repetition is highlighted by the “Ask Twice” campaign. As Molly Tanners reports in this blog post for the charity Step One, “Research released by Time to Change reveals that, when asked, over three quarters (78%) of us would tell friends and family we are ‘fine’ even if struggling with a mental health problem.” Asking again, and not just taking that “fine” at face value shows we’re genuinely interested. It also gives the other person permission to be more honest about what’s going on for them, if they wish to be. I know this from personal experience, as someone who’s much more likely to reply “fine” or “not too bad” first time round. I’m reminded of a brilliant stand-up routine by comedian and actor Bill Bailey, in which he relates the particularly British relationship to happiness.

Our happiness is based on this premise. Things could have been a lot worse. That’s as good as it gets in Britain. That’s why the standard greeting in Britain is:

“How are you?”

“Not too bad.”

That’s as good as it gets in old Blighty. Not too bad. Things are clearly bad, but not quite as bad as we thought they were going to be. We’ve dialled down our expectation to an acceptable level of disappointment.

My outlook isn’t quite that bleak, but I am mistrustful of happiness. Okay. Fine. Not too bad. That’s what you’ll probably get from me if you ask how I am. Ask again, though, and I might open up a little more.

In this post I’ve discussed some of the reasons we might not always get what someone’ saying first time around. Keeping this in mind allows us to be more patient if we don’t understand straightaway, or if our message doesn’t seem to be getting across. Taking a moment to check in can go a long way towards resolving any doubt or misunderstanding. Remember also not to take someone’s words at face value if there might be more going on beneath the surface. Sensitively repeating what we’ve said, or asking again, can make all the difference.

 

Photo by Sandy Millar at Unsplash.

 

Breaking the Silence: Talking About Suicide to Create Hope

Suicidal ideation has less power when it is verbalised. — Fran Houston

To mark World Suicide Prevention Day our book High Tide Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder will be free on Kindle between September 10–14, 2023.

Established in 2003 by the International Association for Suicide Prevention in conjunction with the World Health Organisation, World Suicide Prevention Day (WSPD) is observed each year on September 10. The theme for WSPD 2021–2023 is Creating Hope Through Action. According to the World Health Organisation, this “serves as a powerful call to action and reminder that there is an alternative to suicide and that through our actions we can encourage hope and strengthen prevention. By creating hope through action, we can signal to people experiencing suicidal thoughts that there is hope and that we care and want to support them. It also suggests that our actions, no matter how big or small, may provide hope to those who are struggling.”

That sounds great, but what can we possibly do as individuals to help someone thinking about ending their life? What difference can we make? In this post I’m going to focus on one way we can all contribute to keeping each other safe, which is by having open conversations about suicide and suicidal thinking.

The Power of Conversation in Suicide Prevention

According to suicide prevention charity Grassroots, approximately 120 people die by suicide every week in the UK. One in five people in the UK have suicidal thoughts and one in twenty will attempt suicide. Statistics such as these can be hard to grasp, but there will be people in your life — your friends, family, neighbours, and colleagues — with direct experience of suicidal thinking. You might not know who or how many, and it’s not a comfortable realisation, but it’s the simple truth. Many of my friends have had, or still have, thoughts of suicide. Some have made attempts to end their life. Others have not. I know this because it’s not a taboo subject for us and comes up in conversation whenever it needs to.

Whether it’s talking someone out of a dangerous situation, helping to counter the stigma of suicidality, or holding space for a friend or loved one to share what they’re going through, talking matters. Listening matters even more. Conversations can literally be the difference between despair and hope, between death and life. Fran expresses this well in the epilogue to our book.

It’s true when I say I would be dead if Marty hadn’t come along. So much hurt, so much pain, so much rejection, it made no sense to stay. [...] Friends like Marty who are willing to be with me in the darkness are the ones who give me light. Yes there are medications. Yes there is therapy. Yes there is personal responsibility. But caring friendship is the best medicine of all. Then life begins to have purpose.

She ends with a call to action that captures the essence of WSPD for me. “Stick around. It may not be easy but you can help someone make a life worth living. Maybe even save a life.”

Overcoming the Fear of Discussing Suicide

There are many reasons someone might not want to talk about their mental health but there are also reasons we may hesitate to open a conversation with someone who’s struggling or feeling suicidal. The most obvious of these is fear. It’s scary to hear someone we care about tell us they have thoughts of hurting themself or putting their life at risk. Once someone has shared that with us — and doing so represents a huge leap of trust on their behalf — there’s no way to unhear it. There’s no shame in admitting we feel afraid to go there. It’s an important step towards overcoming those fears, or setting them aside for the moment, and offering support to those we care about.

On the other hand, don’t worry if you don’t feel scared about discussing these things. In the early days of our friendship Fran was intensely manic and more or less constantly suicidal. Many people, including some who had known her a long time, were fearful and worried about her behaviour. I didn’t feel that way, but was unsure whether my ability to remain calm meant I was ill-equipped to support her effectively. I came to realise that my ability to remain calm made me the person she needed. As I wrote at the time, “[p]ositive, supportive and vigilant care is far healthier for Fran than any amount of fear-based worrying.”

Another reason we might hold back is the thought of being responsible for the person’s safety. I’ll cover suicide awareness and prevention training in the next section, but something I’ve learned from Fran and others is that not every conversation about suicide is a crisis situation. I think this fact is often overlooked. Holding space for someone to share their thoughts and feelings when they’re not actively suicidal is profoundly protective, not least because it demonstrates you’re someone they can feel safe with. We need to normalise talking about suicide because it’s such a common experience, and yet is so often stigmatised as dangerous and taboo, or solely the responsibility of professionals.

Of course, sometimes the person is actively suicidal and we need to be prepared for that possibility. One of the first things you’re taught in any suicide awareness or prevention training is that asking someone directly if they’re thinking of suicide won’t put the idea into their head or push them to do something they otherwise wouldn’t have done. If they say yes, ask if they’re planning to take action. If so, treat it seriously and be prepared to involve appropriate professional services if necessary. I’ve asked these questions on various occasions. Most times, the person wasn’t in immediate danger, and we’ve talked about what was going on for them and what steps they might take to stay safe. I’ve also called an ambulance for a friend who told me they’d taken an overdose and needed immediate medical assistance.

Being friends with someone who talks about wanting to die can be stressful, so remember to pay as close attention to your well-being as to theirs. Check out our article How to Take Care of Yourself When Your Friend is Suicidal for suggestions and tips.

Promoting Understanding and Empathy

As well as having private conversations, we can promote wider understanding and empathy in other ways. A good place to start is to be aware of the words we use when discussing suicide. The most obvious is to stop saying “committed suicide” and to challenge the term wherever we encounter it. A social media post by NAMI Bucks County PA puts the case powerfully.

People can die from the unbearable weight of life, people can die from broken hearts, and people can die from not understanding how to navigate a complicated mental health system. People do not, however, commit suicide. Suicide is not a crime. People die by suicide. Let’s update our language and fight to Improve our mental health system. Mental health support and improved access to better treatment IS suicide prevention.

For more on this check out Language Matters by the Public Health Agency of Canada and CNN’s article The words to say — and not to say — about suicide.

Reading or listening to other people’s experiences is another powerful route to understanding. My friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson writes with great honestly about her lived experience including suicidality and self-harm at I’m NOT Disordered. Kevin Hines is an American suicide prevention speaker and author who attempted to take his life in 2000 by jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. You can read his story on his website which links to a great deal of inspiring and educational content. Jonny Benjamin’s book The Stranger on the Bridge tells the story of finding himself on Waterloo Bridge in London in 2008 and his search to find the passing stranger who talked him down to safety. I met Jonny in 2019 at an event he attended with other speakers. You can read my account of the event in The Stranger on the Bridge and Other Stories of Friendship and Support.

There are also a number of excellent online courses on suicide awareness and prevention, many of which are free to take.

The single most important thing I’ve learned about suicidality is that it’s not the same for everyone and can take many forms. In our book we describe several ways suicidal thinking manifests for Fran. These include relentless thinking, situational and stress-induced thinking, hopelessness and despair, and suicide by proxy. All are serious, but they’re amenable to different forms of intervention. A change in medication dramatically decreased the frequency and impact of her relentless thoughts but had less impact on the other forms.

This isn’t unique to Fran. I’ve learned from other friends that coping strategies which counter some thoughts of suicidality and self-harm are ineffective in other situations. It’s not that the person isn’t trying hard enough to stay safe. The techniques available to them are simply not strong enough to counter the impulse to put their health, or their life, in danger. I can never truly understand what it’s like to be in such a situation but talking about it helps me appreciate that suicidality is never as black-and-white as it’s often portrayed.

Insight can be found in unexpected places. I recently came across a short video by Taylor Swift in which she talked about her song “This Is Me Trying.”

I’ve been thinking about people who, if they’re either suffering through mental illness, or they’re suffering through addiction, or they have an everyday struggle, no one pats them on the back every day but every day they are actively fighting something. But there are so many days that nobody gives them credit for that. And so how often must somebody who’s in that sort of internal struggle wanna say to everyone in the room “You have no idea how close I am to going back to a dark place.”

Keep your eyes and ears open when you’re online or talking with the people around you. Opportunities to grow, to learn, and to promote greater understanding are everywhere.

Navigating Sensitive Discussions with Empathy

Talking about suicide might be healthy and helpful, but what about the conversations themselves? What are they like? Our book High Tide, Low Tide contains many examples of our actual conversations, including times when Fran was suicidal. I’ve also written about this previously in What Does Having a Conversation about Mental Health Look Like? For now I’ll focus on two of the most important skills: not interrupting and asking questions.

Listening without interrupting is something I find particularly difficult, as Fran and other friends of mine can attest. The impulse to interrupt their story with suggestions and advice can be almost overwhelming. Interruptions are rarely appreciated, however. They can come across as me not paying attention, dismissing their concerns, or intervening with well-meaning but not necessarily helpful suggestions. Resist the temptation to say “I understand” unless you truly do have relevant lived experience. I’ve never had thoughts of suicide or self-harm, and although I’ve talked with many people who do, I’d never presume to know what it’s like to be in such a situation.

Asking questions might seem contradictory when I’ve just stressed not interrupting the person who’s talking, but asking the right questions at the right time in the right way is an important skill. The following passage from Sometimes We Need to Ask the Questions relates specifically to conversations about suicide and suicidal thinking.

Asking questions is not a passive activity. A question invites a response, and you may not get back what you anticipated or are comfortable with. [...] If your friend appears to be struggling, be prepared to ask the important questions.

Are you feeling suicidal, or thinking of doing something to harm yourself?

Do you feel you are safe right now?

Do we need to think about how to help you stay safe?

Also ask how your friend would like you to proceed if you become concerned for their safety. Respect their wishes and opinions, but be clear that you will involve other people or support services if necessary. That way you both know where you stand.

I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago about their recent experiences with mental health services. They mentioned that sometimes the crisis team was helpful and sometimes not. I was interested to know what advice or suggestions had helped. My question led to a valuable conversation about what my friend finds protective and what doesn’t work for them. I’ve had similar discussions with other friends. Such conversations increase my awareness of what my friends are going through. More importantly, they foster trust and normalise talking about things they live with on an ongoing basis.

As I wrote in Eight Things I’ve Learned about Suicidality and Self-Harm if you’ve never been in so dark a place, think about it this way. If there was something that was always or often in your mind, a part of your lived experience, and there was no one you could mention it to or talk to about it, how alone would you feel?

Further Reading and Resources

For more information and resources relating to World Suicide Prevention Day, suicide awareness, and suicide prevention, visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention, the World Health Organisation, Samaritans, and Grassroots Suicide Prevention.

We’ve shared a number of relevant articles over the years, including our curated list of posts for mental health awareness days and events, and a selection of articles for World Suicide Prevention Day.

Our resources page has links to international suicide crisis lines, support organisations, training resources, and books. UK mental health charity Mind offers a range of help and information if you need support or are concerned for someone else.

 

Photo by Etienne Boulanger at Unsplash.

 

Examine Your Shoulds: Why It's a Word You Shouldn't Use

So again, it’s time to examine your “shoulds.” “Shoulds” are so often the assimilated wants of other people and of your culture.

— Philippa Perry, The Guardian, October 17, 2021

This article was inspired by a short exchange on social media. I said I’d completed one blog post and was pondering what to write next. A friend replied: “Write about pondering what to write!” It brought a smile, reminding me of the time I was struggling to write, and ended up writing about exactly that. I smiled too, because I’d had to consciously avoid saying “I’m pondering what I should write about next.” That word — should — slips so readily into our sentences, even when we know we should avoid it. Ooops. See what I mean?

Perhaps you’re wondering what all the fuss is about. What’s wrong with should? It’s a word. It is, indeed. It can be used in a variety of ways but they tend to fall into one of two categories.

• Implying a sense of duty or imperative. (I should have phoned my mother yesterday.)
• Implying a sense of what will probably happen. (I think it should rain this afternoon.)

I’m going to focus on the first of those. It’s easy to tell when we’re using the word this way because there are implied rules or standards, consequences, and judgments. 

Statement: I should have phoned my mother yesterday.

Rule: family members are expected to be there for each other.

Consequence: disappointment, guilt, censure.

Judgment: I’m a bad person.

Let’s take a look at this in a little more detail.

Rules and Standards

If we were clear about the rules and standards were invoking, I’d have less of an issue with the word should. The problem is, they mostly go unspoken because we assume they’re obvious, absolute, and universal. More often than not, this is not the case. The rules I’m thinking about come in three main flavours: legal, moral and religious, and societal or cultural.

Legal rules

These are the most straightforward. You shouldn’t steal because it’s illegal and if you get caught you could face penalty or jail. You shouldn’t kill, injure, or assault people, for the same reason. Legal rules are more or less obvious, in that we tend to know and understand the laws that govern us. They are absolute and not open to individual interpretation. In principle at least, they apply universally within the relevant jurisdiction. We may be ignorant of the law, or choose to disobey the rules, but we cannot exempt ourselves from them.

Moral and religious rules

Expressed simply, these rules cover how “good people” and “bad people” behave. More generally, they define what we mean by good and bad. Excluding any which may be enshrined in law, they are matters of personal choice, acceptance, and adherence. Whatever your upbringing, beliefs, and opinions, it’s unwise — and frankly disrespectful — to assume other people adhere to exactly the same rules you do.

Cultural and societal rules

These include the often unspoken rules of acceptable (or civilised) behaviour. There may be an overlap with those in the moral/religious sphere, but these tend to be more local or even personal in nature. Organisations, social groups, and communities often have their own standards of behaviour. Some may be written down, such as workplace policies on time-keeping, absence, dress code, bullying, and harassment. Others are generally undocumented but no less important, such as water-cooler etiquette, the taking of coffee or smoking breaks, or any of a hundred unspoken rules that will be familiar to anyone working in that environment. Within the group, they’re accepted as “how things are.”

Why Does This Matter?

We absorb and adapt the rules we’re presented with. We may reject, ignore, or adapt some, justifying this to ourselves as being pragmatic or sensible. These modified rules become part of our personal rule book, governing how we believe it’s acceptable to behave.

Every should (or shouldn’t) is a judgment on our behaviour or the behaviour of others. It’s valid to hold people to account, but we cannot assume someone acknowledges, accepts, or adheres to the same rules and standards. What is obviously the right thing to me may be irrelevant or invalid to you, and vice versa.

This is a problem, because judging people against rules they neither recognise nor accept is the basis of stigma, discrimination, and division. From the opposite perspective, being held accountable to other people’s rules fosters resentment, anger, guilt, worthlessness, and despair.

Shoulds in the Mental Health Arena

This is never more important than when we’re talking about mental health. It’s natural to want to help when someone we know is struggling, but well-meaning comments and suggestions are rendered toxic by the injudicious use of should.

You should call the doctor.

You should take your meds.

You should go for a walk.

You should tidy this place, it’s a mess.

None of these statements makes clear what rule is being broken, but each implies the person is failing to care for themself properly. There’s no attempt to understand what’s going on for them, or find out what help they actually need. We may feel we’re being supportive but all we’ve conveyed is our negative judgment. All we’ve achieved is to convince the other person we’ve no idea how to help.

We can do better than this.

There’s no one right way to support someone (Fran and I wrote a book to share ways we find helpful) but here are a few alternatives that avoid the dreaded “s” word. (For a discussion of other “s” words, including stigma, suicidality, and self-harm, check this article.)

Example 1

Instead of: You should call the doctor.

Try: Things don’t seem to have improved for you in the past couple of days. Do you think it’s worth checking in with your doctor?

You might suggest arranging the appointment or going with them, if you feel that might be helpful.

Example 2

Instead of: You should take your meds.

Try: Sometimes when I have tablets from the doctor I find it hard to remember to take them at the proper times. It’s just a thought but I’m happy to message you a reminder each morning/night, if you’d find it helpful. Just let me know.

This is something I’ve asked several friends at different times. Some have been grateful to receive a reminder, others have politely declined. Be clear that you’re offering a reminder or check-in only; the responsibility for taking the medication remains with them.

Example 3

Instead of: You should go for a walk.

Try: Do you fancy some company? It’s a bit chilly out but it might be nice to go for a walk to the shops if you feel up to it. We could go for a coffee while we’re out, if you like.

It’s often said that exercise is good for our mental health. That may be true, but it’s unhelpful to tell someone they should get out more when they can barely muster the energy to get out of bed, if they are in physical pain, or live with mental or physical conditions which make it hard to be active.

Example 4

Instead of: You should tidy this place, it’s a tip.

Try: Would you like some help with decluttering or putting things away? I could come round for an hour or so tomorrow if that works for you.

Offers of practical help are likely to be far more welcome than expressions of disappointment and disgust. The other person is probably aware of what needs doing, but may feel overwhelmed at the thought of dealing with it, or not know how to start.

At all times, be aware of the implicit judgment behind your words, and the behavioural rules you’re invoking. How relevant are they to the person you’re talking to? What concern for their health, wellbeing, safety, or happiness are you trying to convey? Is there a better way of saying it? Sometimes the simplest way of rephrasing an impending should is to keep your mouth shut!

Remember that you’re sharing your opinion or personal take on things. Invite the other person’s opinion and be open to the possibility they may disagree.

It seems to me that ...

What I’m thinking is ...

From my perspective ... But maybe you see things differently?

When you did that last time, things didn’t seem to work out the way you hoped they would. Is that right?

Express your thoughts and concerns, and explain what you see as potential consequences. But don’t guilt-trip them into complying with your wishes just because you disagree with how they’re living their life. They may have far more going on in their lives than you’re aware of or can understand.

The only exception is where you believe they may be in crisis or at risk of harming themselves or others. That is a judgment call and you won’t always get it right, but if the situation appears critical encourage them to engage with appropriate support. You may need to do so yourself if they’re unable or unwilling. You can find a range of international crisis and support lines on our resources page.

Don’t Should Yourself

I’ve focused on using (or rather, trying not to use) the word should when talking to other people, but the arguments are just as valid when we’re talking to or about ourselves.

It’s easy to tell ourselves we should do this or that, or should have behaved differently in the past, without realising what rules we’re holding ourselves to, or why. There’s a strong possibility they’re rules we grew up with, or accepted along the way, without ever challenging them or checking if they remain valid for us. Behavioural rules are often based on putting other people’s needs before our own. Ask yourself who the rules benefit, especially if you find yourself feeling guilty because you can’t live up to them.

That doesn’t mean rejecting all rules out of hand, of course. Like the stories we tell ourselves, we’ve acquired them for a reason and many will still be relevant, appropriate, or necessary. Whether legal, moral, or cultural, they’re part of the structure or our lives, our societies, and our world.

This article isn’t really about the word should at all. It’s a word. Use it if you must. Just be clear about which rules are important to you, and accept that not everyone’s going to agree with you. And be gentle, with other people and yourself. No one gets it right all the time. We break the rules, for a thousand reasons; some justifiable, some not so much. Being told we should have done differently is never kind, empathetic or helpful.

So, the next time you’re about to should yourself or someone else, stop. Take a breath. Consider what you really want to say, and express it differently.

You really should.

 

Photo by TungCheung, with thanks to Janet Coburn for help sourcing the image.

 

How To Understand People and Be Understood

One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.
(Seneca)

Someone once told me we have no right to expect others to understand us. She was adamant about that. Angry, almost, that anyone could imagine otherwise. The most we can expect, she said, was to be heard. I was reminded of this recently when a close friend said it felt like I didn't know her at all. I got to thinking about what it means to know someone or be known by them.

To Know or to Understand?

What exactly do we mean by knowing or understanding one another? Is there a difference between knowing someone and understanding them? Ephrat Livni drew a distinction in his article It’s better to understand something than to know it:

“Knowing” and “understanding” are related concepts, but they’re not the same. Each is a distinct mental state involving cognitive grasp: Knowing is static, referring to discrete facts, while understanding is active, describing the ability to analyze and place those facts in context to form a big picture.

Livni was discussing these concepts in a business and scientific context, but I think the distinction is useful when we’re thinking about our awareness of ourselves and others. Our friendships and relationships are not static things we can ever fully grasp or know. They are dynamic. They wax and wane over time. They deepen as we learn more about each other. Sometimes they fracture or end. They may pause or stall for a time but their nature is to change. The same applies to us as individuals.

We might seek to know each other at any point in time, but for me, the fundamental need is to be understood at a deeper level. Our lives are incredibly complex and interlinked, and our understanding can only ever be partial, Nevertheless, it is this yearning that underpins our need to understand and to be understood, and our pain when that need is unmet.

Is It a Healthy Need?

I disagree with the person who said we’ve no right to expect understanding from others, but am I right? Is it a healthy need? The Center for Nonviolent Communication (CNVC) includes the need to understand others and be understood in its needs inventory. I’m no means an expert but NVC’s approach to communication makes a lot of sense to me. Fran and I have used it when we’re exploring issues that arise between us or with others. Ralph Nichols, “Father of Listening” and author of Are You Listening, went further. He claimed “The most basic of all human needs is the need to understand and be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.”

What Do We Want People to Understand about Us?

A few months ago a friend asked me twenty questions she’d found in an online “How Well Do You Know Me” quiz. It was fun and we had a good laugh at some of the questions — and my answers! I surprised myself actually, in getting more right than I’d imagined. Understanding is more than a game of twenty questions, though. What do we want others to understand about us? It will be different for everyone but here’s what I’d like people to understand about me.

• My likes and dislikes
• My values and red lines
• My plans, hopes, and dreams
• My issues and triggers
• What scares and delights me, what makes me smile and cry
• What I need when I’m sad or struggling

It may be a tall order to expect someone to understand me on so many levels, although Fran comes close. On the other hand, I believe it is possible to have people who understand certain aspects of me really well. What counts is whether someone is willing to engage, to learn, and understand — and allow me to do the same. Taylor Swift captures this commitment in her song Stay Stay Stay:

You took the time to memorize me
My fears, my hopes and dreams

It’s worth remembering that no matter how close the relationship there will always be things we choose not to share; aspects of ourselves and our lives we wish to hold secret from most, if not all, others.

What Does It Take to Be Understood?

We can’t hope to understand or be understood if we’re not prepared to truly communicate; in NVC terms, to listen with empathy and express ourselves honestly. We all like to imagine we’re open and honest with everyone, but this is perilous work and not to be undertaken lightly. Allowing people in close requires trust and courage, and the more we engage the more vulnerable we make ourselves. Psychoanalyst Thomas Moore describes this well in his book Care of the Soul:

We need people in our lives with whom we can be as open as possible. To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.

It’s very important who we choose to open up to, as Brené Brown makes clear in her book Daring Greatly:

You cannot be vulnerable with everyone. It is important to build trust and boundaries before being vulnerable. Otherwise, more times than ever, you will end up getting betrayed and hurt.

This is especially true where experience has taught us not to let people in too close as a defence against betrayal, abandonment, and loss. Psychic and life coach Jamila White expresses this powerfully in her piece Ultra-independence is a trust issue:

You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point.

Even without such issues, connecting clearly and cleanly is not as straightforward as we sometimes imagine it to be, as Fran and I discuss in our book High Tide, Low Tide.

Perhaps the greatest obstacle to communicating effectively is the belief it should be easy. When you think about it, it is amazing anyone manages to communicate anything meaningful at all. Each of us has our unique mix of thoughts and feelings, hopes, fears, joys, pains, plans, worries, and views about how the world works. We scarcely understand them ourselves, yet we hope to share them with someone who has their own mix to contend with. And the only tools we have are the sounds we can utter, and the marks we can make on paper or a computer screen. It is no wonder we struggle at times!

Given the potential for misunderstanding and hurt, why do we risk it? Why do we want to be understood at all? This can only be a personal thing but for me there is a deep joy in feeling known in the moment, and understood at a more fundamental level. It’s expressed beautifully in an anonymous quotation which inspired a previous blog post of mine.

Imagine meeting someone who wanted to learn your past not to punish you, but to understand how you needed to be loved.

The fact that this understanding can only ever be partial and temporary doesn’t lessen the reward. On the contrary, it deepens it. The gap between what I understand of myself and what my friend understands of me is fertile ground. Any difficulties that come up are part of the journey towards understanding, rather than problems to be avoided or shunned.

It’s worth saying that being understood can be uncomfortable. My friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson shared this with me recently:

I feel like you know me through and through, Marty. Sometimes that’s annoying and I don’t like it, but ultimately I think it helps our friendship.

In what way is it annoying?

It’s like if I say something and you’ll be like “I thought so.” I’m in no way saying I don’t want you to do that anymore, just that in a funny way I’m like “fs he knows me so well.”

I find it disconcerting when someone can tell how I’m feeling before I’ve told them, sometimes before I’m fully aware of it myself. Fran does this a lot and it’s not always what I need, especially if I’m faking fine — pretending I’m doing better than I actually am.

Getting it Wrong

Understanding someone doesn’t mean never getting it wrong. In fact, we’re more likely to get it wrong with people we feel we understand because we tend to act on the basis of what we know, or believe we know. That’s what happened with me and my friend who said it felt like I didn’t know her at all. We’ve moved forward since then, but it was a valuable reminder not to become complacent or assume I understand people better than I actually do.

Another friend contacted me the other day. She wanted to talk but I was working from home and couldn’t pay her the full attention she needed. I told her so and we agreed to see how we got on, but it didn’t work and we soon ran aground. She messaged me later:

Understanding is hard and requires patience, which is in short order these days. To understand and be understood takes time. It’s [about] understanding when your friend has a lot to do, and also understanding when your friend is three days without sleep. It’s picking up on cues that can be silent, and not missing much when you’re with your friends …

Although unpleasant, mistakes like these can be valuable because they offer the opportunity to grow in understanding. I’ve written in the past about other occasions when I’ve worked through disagreements and issues honestly with friends. Aimee and I have had our share of misunderstandings, but we’ve been honest about them and emerged stronger:

I’m not sure if you agree, Aimee, but I’d say we understand there are times we will get it wrong, and that’s OK. It might not feel OK at the time but it will be when we are able to step back a little.

Definitely! And I think more and more we’re learning not to feel like total failures if we do get it wrong, and not blame one another for it.

I’ll close with another short passage from High Tide, Low Tide. Fran and I believe profoundly that the secret to understanding is honest and ongoing communication.

Approach your friend on the basis that you are each doing the best you can. Be gentle with yourself and with each other when things are not flowing well, and celebrate when they are. Good or bad, keep the channels open.

Do you feel understood by your friends and loved ones? Do you have a good understanding of those you’re close to? If not, you wish you did? Fran and I would love to hear from you.

 

Afterword

Writing this article has made me realise how fortunate I am to have friends who understand me — not perfectly, perhaps, but well. They understand what makes me who I am; the things that are important to me, my hang-ups, frailties, and strengths. They get it wrong with me sometimes, of course, just as I get it wrong with them. But they get me, and that’s a really good feeling. Oh, and the person who told me we’ve no right to expect others to understand us? Ironically, she believed she had a really good handle on who I was. She was invariably wrong.

 

Photo by Diego Sanchez on Unsplash

A Postcard from My Lockdown Vacation

I don’t take vacations away from my friends. I take them with me!

If not for coronavirus this would be the final day of my week away at the cottage in Langrigg, Cumbria. I’d be having lunch somewhere, quite possibly the Beehive Inn at Eamont Bridge. Veggie lasagne and chips, and a half-pint of something. Instead, I’m sitting in my garden at home.

The cottage booking was cancelled, of course. Hire car too. Instead of a week visiting places up and down the east coast — Holy Island, Bamburgh, Alnwick Garden, Morpeth, Belsay, Blyth — and a week in the Lake District, I’ve spent the fortnight at home in lockdown. No car. No trips out. No visiting friends and family. A weekly walk to the supermarket for groceries. Occasional visits to the local corner shop. My daily walk for exercise. The house. The garden.

Before the holiday I’d had three weeks working from home. That wasn’t easy and I’m not looking forward to getting back to it. It was all so new, strange, and scary. The country — indeed much of the world — in lockdown and no idea how long our lives would be put on hold. It’s the end of the fifth week of lockdown here in the UK and to use an overworked phrase it has become the new normal.

But five weeks and one staycation in, I can honestly say I’m doing okay. As I write that I feel a sense of embarrassment. Guilt. Shame, even. How can I be “doing okay”? This is a global pandemic. People are getting sick and dying every day. Many have lost jobs, homes, loved ones. Education at all levels is in stasis. Parents are trying to keep their children safe, entertained and learning while dealing with their own issues. People are short — some desperately so — of money, food, and hope.

And here I am, on the final day of what has turned out to be a rewarding and peaceful fortnight at home.

I’m aware of how privileged my situation is. I may not want to go back to work on Monday but I have a job to go to that is as secure as any are these days. I’m healthy and not in need of anything essential. I’m classed as a key worker and I know I’m playing my part but like many others, I wonder if I’m doing enough.

One of my best friends enrolled for the NHS Volunteer Responder scheme and has been supporting people from home while she is in isolation. I considered doing the same but it would mean pulling back from the friends and loved ones I’m already supporting — and who support me — on a daily basis, pandemic or not.

I’ve written elsewhere about how important it is to me, and for me, to keep in close touch with people. As well as — hopefully — helping others navigate these times, it’s vital to my wellbeing. I’ve shared photos from my holiday on social media as I would have done if I’d been out and about each day visiting familiar and new places. It’s been a challenge at times to find things to photograph about the house or in the garden or on my daily walk, but it’s also been fun. I think it’s honed my photographer’s eye, and brought to my attention things I might otherwise have overlooked.

I’ve made notes in my memory journal as I normally do on holiday and kept my regular diary of course. On the face of it, there’s not been a lot to record. Days in lockdown are inevitably similar but there have been some genuine highlights that have meant a great deal to me. I’ve especially enjoyed video calls with friends, sharing the sights and sounds on my evening walks, visits to the shops, and birdsong in the garden. In turn, friends have brought me into their homes, gardens, and lives.

These are simple things and I was sharing like this with people before coronavirus hit. But I think we’re all more aware now of what really matters to us, and are doing all we can to connect and stay connected. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, of course. Some of the conversations I’ve had recently have touched on darker themes including depression, anxiety, suicidality and self-harm; money and employment worries; concern for family, friends, and loved ones including beloved pets; healthcare; politics — and of course the pandemic itself. We must be able to acknowledge these and the emotions and thoughts that accompany them. Acknowledge them, and share with people we trust.

A friend told me this morning she’s keeping going by staying busy and supporting and encouraging others. Another friend described how she’d connected with someone whose story gave her the courage to share her own. Another supports her best friend, the way Fran and I are there for each other. Talking isn’t always enough, of course, and I look for other ways to help where I can.

I’d wondered if there was much point taking these two weeks of annual leave when I’d be stuck at home, but I’m glad I did. It’s been a valuable time for me. No matter how things go in the weeks and months ahead I will look back on this fortnight with gratitude. I always say I don’t take holidays away from my friends; I take them along with me. That’s never been more true than now. Thank you for being with me on my lockdown staycation.

 

Talking to Your Children about Mental Illness

By Daniel Wittler

We are starting to shine the light on mental illness in America. It’s always loomed and people have been aware of its existence but unfortunately there is a stigma with it as well. The problem with stigmas is that it can hinder people who are suffering heavily from seeking help or admitting it to anyone.

The worst thing for a person with a legitimate mental illness to do is try to handle it by themselves. The stigma needs to be eliminated. How can we as a country eliminate that stigma? By teaching our younger generations about mental health issues in a healthy way.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that:

• 4 percent of children aged 3 to 17 years (approximately 4.5 million) have a diagnosed behaviour problem
• 1 percent of children aged 3 to 17 years (approximately 4.4 million) have diagnosed anxiety
• 2 percent of children aged 3 to 17 years (approximately 1.9 million) have diagnosed depression

While the numbers are staggering, they are there and represent a good number of children in our country. Even if your kids aren’t diagnosed with anything, it is inevitable that they will have someone suffering from mental illness in their life throughout school or into college. Arming your kids with the facts before they move out of your house can prove to be extremely beneficial.

Of course, there are few better things in life than showing our children all the good things life has to offer, but it is imperative to show them the dark realities as well. It’s difficult to navigate but should be treated very seriously.  

Do Your Research

There are a lot of opinions on mental health which produces a lot of misinformation. Getting your information from official websites is an important move when doing some research before talking to your children. Some high quality resources include:

• SAMSHA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration)
• NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness)
• AACAP (American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry)

You don’t need a PhD in mental health to have a talk with your kids about it, but you want to be armed with the facts. Misinformation can go a long way for a kid who is young and soaking everything up around them.

Planting the Seed

Remember, when deciding to first talk to your kids about mental health, you are just opening up the avenue for discussion. Specifics are not necessary and you can stay surface level at first.

Some other tips to remember:

• Keep it simple and straightforward
• Make sure to catch your child at a good time, if they are having a bad day or not in a good mood then it’s probably not the best time
• Stay aware of body language and reactions, let it navigate your discussion
• Make the information easy to process for your child, getting to in depth may not affect them, but it can confuse them

Once the initial discussion has happened it’s up to you as a parent to carry on the conversation in the future. This isn’t a one-time thing, it’s completely opening up a discussion with your kids about deeper personal issues that you should carry on the rest of your lives. If your kids are growing and feeling different than their peers in a negative way, they need to know it’s okay to voice that concern to their parents.

By starting the discussion of mental illness you can later begin to discuss things like drug addiction with your kids. Addiction and mental illness are a common thing in this country these days, they are referred to as co-occurring disorders.

Mental illness can completely dominate someone’s life if left untreated. Since we have become more aware of its prevalence, we now know that it can start at a young age. Only you as parents can gauge your child’s behavior and overall mood.

If you feel something isn’t right with your children then it’s time to look into it. Opening up a conversation is the first step into tapping into the state of their mental health.

About the Author

Daniel Wittler is a writer in recovery and mental health advocate. He has been living with depression since he was a teenager and has found ways to live and thrive with it. Daniel is a regular contributor to Pax Memphis.