Only Partly Clueless: The Secret to Being a Supportive Friend

It’s easy to imagine you need to be a mental health expert to support a friend or loved one who lives with a mental health condition. In my experience, learning about a friend’s diagnosis gives me a better appreciation of what they have to deal with, but no online resource, book, or training course can make me fully aware of their situation.

I was reminded of this recently on a call with Fran. We were talking about people who seem to routinely — almost willfully — misunderstand how things are for her. She’s normally pretty laid back when people get it wrong, because not everyone has personal experience of her physical and mental health conditions. On this occasion, however, she was frustrated because the people we were discussing knew about her diagnoses. At least one of them owned a copy of our book. I joked that I still get things wrong, despite having been her friend for thirteen years.

“That’s true,” she said. “The difference is, you’re only partly clueless.”

I made a note of the expression, recognising its relevance to our relationship and to supportive friendships generally. I took it as an acknowledgement that I have some awareness of how things are for her, but I don’t assume my understanding is accurate or complete. I’m open to Fran updating my understanding or telling me outright that I’m wrong. It’s an important aspect of our friendship and foundational to the trust we have in one another. The same is true of my relationships with other friends, many of whom live with significant physical and mental health conditions.

“Only partly clueless” reminds me that while education is valuable and helps me support my friends more effectively, I’ll never fully understand the challenges they live with every day. It would make a great t-shirt!

 

Photo by Emily Morter at Unsplash.

 

One More Cup of Coffee: A Few Thoughts on Knowledge Transfer and Lifelong Learning

Learning to drink a coffee and learning to code is the same thing. — Waren Gonzaga

This post was inspired by a conversation with a friend who works at my local coffee shop. It was a busy Saturday morning and she was on her own after a colleague had phoned in sick. In between customers we got talking about team working, staff turnover, and the challenges of bringing new team members up to speed. Despite never having worked in hospitality, I could relate to what she was saying. It got me thinking about my experience of training and being trained, the things I learn relatively easily, and those I struggle to master. Working in a busy coffee shop would definitely fall into the latter category!

KT in the Workplace

My friend was amused that I couldn’t immediately recall my job title, but Intermediate Information Technology Service Manager reveals little about what I actually do. I explained that I’m part of a team responsible for ensuring the computer systems we support are up when they should be up and doing what they should be doing.

Until roughly a year ago I led a small team. It had been pretty stable for a long time in terms of staff and responsibilities. We knew each other well. We knew our respective strengths and weaknesses. We understood the applications we supported, and what we needed to do to keep them working as they should. After several of these applications were retired, my team was merged into another so that members of that team could move on pursue other opportunities.

All this means I’ve experienced the “new people needing to learn stuff” dynamic from both sides. I’ve had to learn the technologies, techniques, and processes involved in supporting applications that were totally new to me. I then found myself sharing that newly acquired knowledge and experience with two new colleagues who joined us from outside the organisation. Terms vary, but in my workplace this is known as knowledge transfer, or KT. Some of it involves formal courses or online learning, but much is on-the-job training conducted face-to-face, either in person or via video calls.

Things I Learn Well

This approach works well for me. I’m better at picking up new skills when they’re demonstrated to me, rather than being presented with masses of reading material, or sent on courses that relate poorly to the work in hand. Having things demonstrated by people currently in the role allows me to ask questions, take notes, and then begin taking on the tasks myself.

Having specific goals motivates me to learn. Many years ago I taught myself HTML, CSS, Javascript, and other web technologies so I could design and build websites for myself and others. I learned Photoshop to a high standard in order to process my digital photographs. I used these skills to design a website and promotional leaflets for an animal rescue centre I supported.

For the past year and a half I’ve been teaching myself Teeline shorthand. I’ve always been fascinated by different modes of writing, including the Tengwar letter forms created by fantasy author JRR Tolkien. I use Teeline to capture personal notes and blogging ideas, although I’m not yet sufficiently proficient to use it for taking meeting minutes at work.

At work, I enjoy the creative challenge of application design and development. I had little such opportunity in recent years, because the applications I supported were nearing the end of their life. Moving to a new team has reawakened my interest in problem solving and coding. I’m currently teaching myself unix shell scripting. I’m using a mixture of resources. These include adapting scripts written by past members of the team, discussing ideas with colleagues who know more about scripting than I ever will, YouTube channels, online tutorials — and a lot of Google searches to troubleshoot and refine my code.

I’m also exploring generative AI applications such as chatGPT. I’m interested in chatGPT’s potential as a learning/teaching resource, as well as its writing capabilities. I recently published a blog post generated by chatGPT in response to a prompt regarding identity and mental health. The risks and benefits of AI are beyond the scope of this article, but I was intrigued by this quotation by Yejin Choi, Professor of Computer Science at the University of Washington, in her TED Talk Why AI Is Incredibly Smart — and Shockingly Stupid.

These language models do acquire a vast amount of knowledge, but they do so as a byproduct as opposed to [it being a] direct learning objective. Now in contrast, human learning is never about predicting which word comes next, but it’s really about making sense of the world and learning how the world works.

Making sense of the world and how it works may be beyond the current scope of AI (and many humans for that matter) but I believe it has immense potential in developing solutions to practical problems. This is already true in relation to programming. It might appear a lazy approach (witness a recent social media meme: “I’m a programmer” “Which programming languages do you use?” “ChatGPT.”) but AI does much more than spit out cut-and-paste code fragments. Formulating the prompts helps me clarify my understanding of the task in hand. ChatGPT fully comments and explains its solutions which helps me learn. Furthermore, I can ask it to refine its solutions or suggest alternatives. In a very real sense (and I use the term deliberately) it’s like having a human tutor sitting beside me.

Things I Don’t Find Easy to Learn

The skills I’ve talked about so far have been mostly technology and process-related. I’m much less proficient at what are called soft or people skills; anything to do with leading, organising, or managing groups or teams. I recently wrote a blog post about anxiety for Mental Health Awareness Week 2023. In doing so, I realised that one the reasons I get anxious is that I’m poor at organising things that involve other people. I relate well one-to-one or in (very) small groups, but I struggle with larger groups or teams. This is reflected in the kind of support network I have.

I discharged my team leader role well enough, but I had a small team of three or four people, all of whom were skilled at what they did and worked together well. I handled the team’s workload but had little need to manage them personally or to moderate between them. I led a group of fellow Mental Health First Aiders for a time. I loved the conversations and discussions, but became increasingly anxious as the monthly meetings came and went. I stepped back from the role, although I remain a Mental Health First Aider. At the time I felt I was failing my fellow MHFAs and myself, but in hindsight it was the right decision.

I’ve undertaken training over the years to improve my interpersonal skills, including courses in Nonviolent Communication (NVC) and an online workshop led by Brene Brown. At work, I took the Living Leader training and was mentored for a time by my organisation’s CEO. NVC improved my one-to-one skills but otherwise these attempts have largely been unsuccessful. The main reason was that I had little idea what I wanted to be or achieve. I explored this in Connection, Creativity and Challenge: In Search of My First Best Destiny.

I have exasperated my workplace mentor (sorry, Loveday!), various bosses (apologies especially to you, Judith!), and colleagues, but I still have no sense of direction. A recent change of employer may open new opportunities, but only if I can figure out what I want.

Two years on, I still have little idea what I want to do or be. That said, moving to a new team — and relinquishing any managerial responsibilities — has given me the opportunity to focus on my technical skills. Accepting I’m not a natural leader (and have no desire to become one) has been liberating.

Mental Health Learning

I may not be cut out to lead a team of Mental Health First Aiders, but I value the MHFA training I’ve undertaken, including refresher training earlier this year. I’ve taken a number of other courses and workshops related to mental health, suicide awareness and prevention. If you’re interested, check our listing of Online Suicide Awareness Courses and Podcasts. My original MHFA and ASIST training was classroom based but in general I prefer online, self-paced courses, irrespective of the subject matter.

The best mental health awareness training of all, though, is talking with people with lived experience. It’s not their responsibility to educate me, but I’m hugely grateful to Fran and other friends who over the years have shared how their lives are impacted by mental and physical health conditions. To the extent I’ve learned anything, it’s down to their patience and trust. The benefits aren’t limited to mental health awareness, as I describe in our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder.

I am a better person for knowing Fran. I have a greater understanding of my strengths, values, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities than ever before. I have learned more about mental and invisible illness, suicidal thinking, stigma, determination, courage, and responsibility since we became friends than in the fifty years before we met. [...] I have greatly expanded my circle of friends, met people who feel safe sharing their stories in response to mine, and learned how it feels to offer my skills and experience in the service of others. I have grown — and continue to grow — as a friend and as a man.

Those words are as true now as they were written. I grow and learn from each and every friendship and connection. These days I’m much better at navigating difficulties with people when they arise, as they inevitably do. I’m also far less insecure and clingy when friendships change, or even end.

Sharing the Wisdom

Fran and I have always been keen to share what we’ve learned about managing a mutually rewarding and supportive friendship where one person lives with mental illness. That was the motivation for writing our book and the reason we continue to share on our blog and social media. My friend Emma McDade expressed this beautifully in relation to her recent guest post on disassociation. “I’m still learning how to live as myself,” she told me. “I want to be able to help others learn about it all, too.”

In the workplace, knowledge transfer isn’t always straightforward. It requires a willingness to learn, and patience on the part of both trainer and trainee. It also needs time to be set aside, which can be a challenge when you’re short-staffed and need to keep the show on the road. That’s something I recognise in my working environment. Secondary tasks such as documentation and knowledge transfer often take second place to supporting the live service.

When circumstances permit, however, I enjoy the opportunity to share my skills and knowledge. As well as the satisfaction of helping a colleague learn something new, I almost always come away with a deeper understanding of whatever we were discussing. Fran and I learned a great deal in the process of writing our book. The same applies to our blog posts and other work in the mental health arena.

This is sometimes that’s often overlooked. Helping others learn takes time and effort, and it can seem a chore with little to commend it. It’s not uncommon to find people reluctant to share what they know, hoarding skills and knowledge to consolidate their perceived expert status. Learning is not a zero sum game, however. Approached in the right way, both teacher and student benefit.

Whether it’s unix scripting, mental health, Teeline shorthand, or something else entirely, I hope the urge to keep learning new things never leaves me. Who knows, maybe my friend will teach me how to make a proper cup of coffee!

Over to You

In this article I’ve described some things I find relatively easy to learn, and others I struggle to master. What do you find easy to learn? How do you learn best? Do you enjoy learning new skills, or find it hard work? Do you feel confident sharing your skills and knowledge with others? Do you find it a pleasure or a bind? Fran and I would love to hear from you, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Image by Gabriella Clare Marino at Unsplash.

 

How to Educate Yourself about Your Friend's Mental Health Condition

It’s easier to be there for someone if you understand what they’re going through. But how can you understand if you’ve never been there yourself? That’s the situation I found myself in when I met my best friend Fran for the first time in 2011.

Fran lives with three chronic health conditions I’d never experienced and knew nothing about: bipolar disorder, chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME), and fibromyalgia. Being her friend didn’t mean I had to become an expert in any of these but I wanted to learn as much as I could, so I could be there for her as effectively as possible.

I’m sharing my education journey in the hope it might help someone in a similar position. I’ll focus on bipolar disorder but the principles apply no matter what mental or physical health condition your friend or loved one lives with. It’s also relevant to other lived experience including abuse, bereavement, discrimination, self-harm, stigma, suicidality, or trauma.

Whatever your friend’s situation, approach educating yourself about it as a privileged insight into something you may never fully understand.

Why Bother?

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.

• You’ll be more aware of what your friend is going through.
• You’ll be more aware of, and better understand, potential treatment options.
• You’ll be better placed to support your friend in ways that are helpful to them.
• You’ll find it easier to hold an open and non-judgemental space for your friend to talk about what’s going on for them.

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.

Educating yourself isn’t about proving what a great person you are, diagnosing your friend or helping them self-diagnose, showing you know more than they do, telling them what to do, or intervening in their life or treatment. The only exception to that is if you feel they are in urgent need of help or are at immediate risk.

You’re not doing it solely for your friend, however. In Why Do You Do It? I described some of the things I’ve learned about myself and how much I’ve gained personally.

I am a better person for knowing Fran. I have a greater understanding of my strengths, values, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities than ever before. I have learned more about mental and invisible illness, suicidal thinking, stigma, determination, courage, and responsibility since we became friends than in the fifty years before we met. [...] I have greatly expanded my circle of friends, met people who feel safe sharing their stories in response to mine, and learned how it feels to offer my skills and experience in the service of others. I have grown — and continue to grow — as a friend and as a man.

I’ve shared a few further insights in a post titled Three Things I Wish People Knew about Loving Someone with Mental Illness.

How Much Do I Need to Know?

No one is suggesting you enrol with your local school of medicine or train as a counsellor or therapist. Fran doesn’t need me to be an expert. She is the expert in how her illnesses affect her, and has professionals to fulfil those specialist roles. It took a while for me to understand where I fit into that team, what I could usefully learn, and how my unique perspective could benefit her most. As I describe in our book:

At first, I imagined I could discover all I needed to know by talking with Fran and spending time with her. I learned a great deal, but after a while I realised I needed additional sources of information. No book, website, or training course can tell me how illness affects Fran personally, but she does not know everything about mental illness and cannot provide a broader, impartial perspective. I seek to educate myself by talking to people with lived experience, by reading books and online material, by taking relevant courses and training, and by participating in the wider mental health community.

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

Start With What You Know Already

It wasn’t just that Fran lived with three illnesses I didn’t understand. More fundamentally, she lived with illness, and I needed to get my head around what that meant before I could move on to the details. It helped that we were able to discuss what wellness and illness meant to each of us, and the very different life experiences that had brought us to those individual understandings. Acknowledging the differences provided a solid foundation for the next stages in my education journey. You can read my experience of illness here.

Talk to People With Lived Experience

There’s no better way to understand what it means to live with illness than by talking with people who actually do. Fran and other friends have encouraged me to learn about their health conditions. It’s important to remember, however, that it’s not their responsibility to educate me. In particular, there are times when they have far too much going on in their lives to help me understand. I recall one friend who found it exhausting having to explain things to me all the time, especially when she was struggling. At such times, she needed friends who understood what she was dealing with because they’d been there themselves.

I learn best by exploring what Fran or other friends are experiencing in the moment, rather than trying to understand everything all at once or treating them like a reference textbook. Relentless questioning is unnecessary and unkind, but asking appropriate questions can help each of you explore what’s going on. My friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson expressed this beautifully 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.

I’ve explored what I mean by appropriate questions in a previous article. Bear in mind there may be things your friend is unwilling or unable to talk about, either at that particular time or at all. If so, respect your friend’s boundaries and don’t push for more than they’re prepared to share with you.

Asking questions implies listening to the answers. Listening is an important skill in itself and harder than it seems. Treat it as part of your education journey. As well as learning about your friend’s health condition, you’re learning to communicate effectively and compassionately. One of the most valuable lessons I learned is that there are different types of caring conversation, depending on a person’s needs at the time.

It’s not all about symptoms and treatments. There are some things you can only learn by talking with someone who has lived experience, such as the determination it takes to keep moving forward despite crippling anxiety, depression, insomnia, or suicidality; how it feels to face stigma and discrimination from people with no interest in understanding; how disheartening it can be to ask for help only to find none available; or the courage it takes to unravel past trauma though counselling and therapy.

Not everything will be easy to hear. I’ve shared a few examples in a post titled Four Things It’s Hard for a Mental Health Ally to Hear (And Why It’s Important to Listen).

Books and Online Resources

I’ve found a wide range of books useful, including memoirs and autobiographies by authors with lived experience, biographies, and books written for partners, carers, and friends. Of these, the final category was by far the least represented. There were books for partners, such as When Someone You Love is Bipolar: Help and Support for You and Your Partner, by Cynthia G. Last, and Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder: Understanding and Helping Your Partner, by Julie A. Fast and John D. Preston, but nothing specifically for friends. Fran and I wrote High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder to address that need.

I recommend the Stigma Fighters collections of short personal stories by people with experience of a range of mental health conditions. In four volumes, the Stigma Fighters anthologies are available in print and e-book editions. The stories are also available on the Stigma Fighters website. (You can find my contribution here.) The range of diagnoses, symptoms, and situations the authors describe helped me appreciate both the uniqueness of someone’s experience, and certain repeated or common themes.

Blogs, vlogs, and podcasts are another valuable resource, not least because they are usually intensely personal and tend to be updated frequently. For bipolar disorder I recommend Julie A. Fast’s blog Bipolar Happens, and her articles at BP Hope magazine and Health Central. If you want to learn about living with borderline personality disorder (BPD) check out my friend Aimee Wilson’s blog I’m NOT Disordered.

Two podcasts by mental health author and speaker Gabe Howard deserve mention: Inside Mental Health and A Bipolar, a Schizophrenic, and a Podcast. The latter, co-hosted by Michelle Hammer, “looks at life through the unique lens of people living with depression, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder.”

Courses and Training

There’s a wide range of courses and training material, much of which is online and either free or low-cost. Some more expensive training, such as Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) or Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST) may be free or subsidised depending where you live and your personal circumstances. I’ve taken these and many other courses over the years and found most interesting and informative. You can find a selection on our resources page; we also have a list of online suicide awareness courses and podcasts. I particularly recommend Beating Bipolar and the free suicide awareness training at ZSA.

The Wider Mental Health Community

Fran had good connections with local mental health organisations, including the Maine chapter of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) and Family Hope. I learned a lot from these but at a certain point I realised it would help to connect with similar organisations here in the UK. This led to me volunteering with the anti-stigma campaign Time to Change. I learned a great deal about myself in the process, met some amazing people, and made several lasting friendships. Volunteering gave me the confidence to become involved with mental health and wellbeing initiatives in my place of work. This opened opportunities to attend conferences and events, and become part of the wider Mental Health First Aider network.

It’s worth noting that some groups or resources may not be available to you without relevant lived experience. I was privileged to attend a few courses run by my local recovery college, including sessions on self-harm and wellness recovery action planning (WRAP). The college meant a lot to me, but it’s run by people with lived experience for people with lived experience, and I respect the fact I couldn’t continue attending.

I’ve found several mental health organisations helpful. No Stigmas offers excellent online ally training covering self-care, peer support, and advocacy. I joined Mind, Bipolar UK, and Bring Change 2 Mind for a broader awareness of news and issues across the mental health community.

Stay Humble and Open

As valuable as it is to educate yourself, it’s important to remain realistic and humble. No matter how many conversations you have, books you read, or courses you take, you’ll never really know what it’s like for your friend. They’re the experts when it comes to the life they’re living, the issues they deal with, and the support and help they need.

Recognise too that you’ll still get things wrong! This might be because you haven’t learned enough about what your friend is going through, or you’ve made assumptions that are wrong, inappropriate, or unhelpful. Treat each mistake as an opportunity for learning. If you’re honest and open about your mistakes you and your friend can both grow from the experience. I’m reminded of a conversation with Aimee, after I’d messed up badly.

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.

It wasn’t the first or last time I’ve got it wrong, but we continue to be honest with each other when problems arise.

Learning About You Too

While you’re learning about what your friend goes through, don’t neglect your needs as a supportive friend. That’s something you’re learning about too. Even if you don’t consider yourself in a caregiver role, check out organisations such as Carers UK, Carers Trust, or government sites such as this UK page on support and benefits for carers.

Many organisations that support people living with illness have information and resources for caregivers, for example Bipolar UK, and Mind. Look for carer groups on social media too. Julie A. Fast runs two Facebook groups: one for partners of people with bipolar or schizoaffective disorder, and one for parents and caregivers. Hearing what other people in supportive roles have learned can add to your understanding.

I began this journey with no personal experience of mental illness, but learning what Fran and other friends live with has given me a much greater understanding of my own mental and physical health. I’ve explored this in such posts as Return to Down, THIS BOY GETS SAD TOO, and How International Men’s Day Inspired My First Doctor’s Appointment in 30 Years.

I’ve found that being open and honest about what I’m going through — both here on our blog and in private with friends — makes it easier to ask for help when I need it. It also helps my friends support me from a place of greater understanding. Aimee expressed this well in a recent conversation: “I’m glad you can be honest with me, Marty. No one can support a person who isn’t honest about how they feel, so you being open enables me to really be there for you.”

Over to You

In this article I’ve shared how I’ve approached educating myself about my friends’ experiences with illness. If you’ve been in a similar situation, what helped you most? What worked or didn’t work? Do you feel your friendship benefited? If you live with illness, what advice would you give a friend who wants to learn more about your situation? Do you want people to know, or does that feel like an imposition? Whose responsibility is it to educate people about what it means to live with illness?

Drop a comment below, or get in touch through our contact page.

 

Image by Tim Mossholder at Unsplash.