Gum on My Shoe

Mental health campaigns stress the importance of talking about how we’re feeling, especially if we’re struggling or mentally unwell. Whether it’s a trusted friend or family member, medical professional, counsellor, therapist, or crisis line, the message is clear: talk to someone. Fran and I believe in the value of genuine, honest, and open communication. It’s the foundation of our friendship and the central message of our book, our blog, and everything we do in the mental health arena. But it’s not always easy, or even appropriate, to be completely open with everyone all the time. All of us fib about how we are sometimes . Even me and Fran, even with each other. In this post I want to look at why our friends and loved ones aren’t always completely open with us about their mental health. Understanding why this happens can help us to be more compassionate towards those we care about, and ourselves. As well as my own experiences, I’ll draw on contributions submitted in res...

  I am known, inside and out. I do not feel the need to hide parts of myself away for fear of scaring you. I listen, unafraid of the places you take me. We express love, wonder, anger, jealousy, envy, frustration, freely. We laugh and cry. Real laughter. Real tears. I tell you my how-it-is even when I know it is different from yours. I listen to your how-it-is, holding it gently in the space between us. We dance in the differences, the gaps where the magic happens.   ~mb   This post was originally shared on social media , November 25, 2011. Photo by Leslie Jones on Unsplash.  

You truly are someone I can rely on in an emergency and at all other times. In this post I want to explore what it means to be someone your friends can rely on. That might not seem all that special or unusual. Isn’t that what friendship is about? To an extent, yes. Friendship, certainly the mutually supportive kind I value most, implies a degree of commitment and trust that you’ll be there for each other. On the other hand, I think most of us would agree they have one or two friends they’d unthinkingly turn to in moments of need or crisis. It’s not that those friends are better or more important than the rest. Dependability is one role in the repertoire of caring, but it’s not the only one and it has consequences. What’s it like to be that kind of friend? Maybe you are already. Maybe you wish you were. Maybe you wish you had one. Let’s take a look. The Steadfast Friend Two words came to me when I began writing this piece: constancy (in the sense of being unchangingly faithful an...

I took a drive with a friend the other day. It was the first time I’d been in a private car in over a year and the first time my friend had driven me anywhere. She has yet to pass her driving test and I was there to supervise so she could gain additional practice. We had a great time and I felt completely at ease in the car with her. Thinking about it afterwards, it occurred to me how important safety, trust, and responsibility are in our lives. Trust and Physical Safety I was supervising but I was very much in my friend’s hands. I trusted her driving ability and sense of responsibility. If she felt confident behind the wheel, that was good enough for me. No matter how experienced we may be, every driver understands what’s at stake when we start the engine and pull out into traffic. We are responsible not only for our own safety but that of our passengers, other road users, and pedestrians. Many of us drive so frequently we take this for granted but it’s worth reminding ourselves...

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 analyz...

Today we’re talking about “faking fine,” that thing we do when we pretend we’re doing better than we actually are. Why do we do this? Is it a good thing? What happened to being honest? Let’s start by looking at a few scenarios. Fake It Till You Make It This popular aphorism “suggests that by imitating confidence, competence, and an optimistic mindset, a person can realize those qualities in their real life.” This is faking fine to ourselves, although its impact may be felt in our interactions with others. It’s an example of positive or affirmative thinking; of facing your fear and doing it anyway. If you are interested in learning more, I recommend Susan Jeffers’ book Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway . Faking Fine as an Escape Hatch Faking fine can be a way to escape awkward social situations or explaining yourself. Fran expressed this with characteristic aplomb in her essay “Lessons of the Night.” “How are you?” Another hated and seemingly innocuous question. The simple ...

It doesn’t matter who you are or how well things seem to be going, sometimes we all need a hand to hold. Someone to be there, to listen to our story, to let us let it out, let it go, let it flow. It can be hard to trust someone enough to say, hey, actually I’m not doing too good right now, especially if you know they are busy or have issues of their own. But it’s important. That trust is important. It is not only trust in the other person, it is trust in our ourselves, in the belief that our pain matters too, that we matter too. To the other person and to ourselves. Too often we hold back, hold it all inside, when all it might take is a little sharing to lighten the load enough for us to lift our heads and see the path ahead clearly again.   Originally posted March 23, 2014 on Facebook Photo by Austin Kehmeier on Unsplash  

Came to you with a broken faith. Gave me more than a hand to hold. Caught before I hit the ground. Tell me I’m safe, you’ve got me now. (Jess Glynne, “Take Me Home”) Listening to Spotify recently I came across Take Me Home by Jess Glynne. In the artist’s words , “This is a song about the need to have someone who cares when you are at your most vulnerable.” I’m fortunate to have people like that in my life. People who are there for me and allow me to be there for them. You might imagine this kind of support means always knowing how to help, but that’s not the case at all. It feels good when you’re able to offer what someone needs; be that words of comfort or advice, or practical assistance. But there are times when you will have neither the words nor any clear idea of what to do. It is important to recognise and accept when this happens without feeling a failure to yourself or the person you want to help. As I’ve written elsewhere : Don’t feel paralysed or useless if you can’t ...

“ Don’t push someone away and then expect them to still be there when you have a change of mind .” (Anon) That quotation made its way into my social media stream the other day. Maybe you’ve seen it, or something similar. Maybe you agree with the sentiment. After all, it doesn’t feel good to be pushed away by someone you care about. It’s easy to sit back and feel self-righteously aggrieved. But things are not always what they seem. Someone might push you away for all sorts of reasons. Maybe they have major trust issues, and very good reasons for them. Maybe they have a lot of other shit going on right now and can’t keep all their plates spinning at the same time. Maybe they need to believe someone will be there to welcome them back. Maybe it isn’t about you at all. Or maybe you were an asshole and they needed to push you away for their safety and well-being.  

This article was originally published as a guest post on Peter McDonnell’s blog. I am grateful to Peter for inviting me to guest on his blog. He didn’t set a specific topic so as I sit here in one of my favourite coffee shops on a Saturday morning I’m wondering what to write about. What to share. On the table beside me is the book I have been re-reading for the first time in decades: John Powell’s Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am? It’s not a book about mental health as such. It is a book about communication; about sharing our truths, doubts, fears, delights, and hang-ups with one another; and in so doing, allowing understanding and compassion to grow. (It is Powell’s contention that only by being honest and open with others can we come to know ourselves.) And that is of relevance to all of us, whether we live with a mental health diagnosis or not. This kind of honest communication is fundamental to the close, caring, mutually supportive relationship I have with my best ...

I am grateful to Vikki Beat for our recent conversation at Caffe Nero which led to me writing this up. It’s no secret that Fran and I spend a lot of time talking together but it took a while for me to recognise that not all conversations are the same. Different people have different ways of talking, of course, but aside from that there are distinct types of conversation depending on what the people involved need at the time. Here are three distinct types we have found useful. I’d love to know if they resonate for you – or if they don’t! Let’s talk! “My Turn, Your Turn.” This is the type of conversation that comes most naturally to me, whether face-to-face (in person or on a video call), on the telephone, or in online chat. It consists of short alternating exchanges, one person speaking for a moment or two then letting the other take a turn. It works well (at least for me) where you are “shooting the breeze”, making plans, or sharing things on a fairly surface-y level. What I had ...

Monday July 9, 2018 Dear Fran It is 7:10 p.m. here in the UK. 2:10 p.m. with you in Maine. This hour is our hour. Usually we would be on Skype, catching up on our news and our plans. Just hanging out together, as friends do the world over no matter where they live or how far apart in miles those places might be. This isn’t a normal week, though, is it? I am on vacation here at Ambleside in the English Lake District. Travel – on either my part or yours – inevitably means some disruption to our routine. One Skype call per day instead of two, for example. Or shorter calls. Occasionally none. That used to hurt. These days not. Or not so much. We have learned to trust. We are doing okay so far this week! We had video calls on Saturday and Sunday evenings, down by the jetty opposite the fish and chip shop. It is always fun to be on with you when I am “out and about,” able to not merely tell you what’s going on for me but show you. The lake here at Ambleside (technically, where we...