After I’d written the fixed blog people told me their stories and said that it had been helpful to read. Other people had told me that they’d sent it to friends who were struggling with grief, or madness.
I was surprised by all of this, as I thought my experience was pretty unique. Obviously, I hadn’t given the details of those final images but my descriptions of how I acted with PTSD resonated with many people.
When life is difficult for someone the people around them want to help. It is hard to know how to help and even harder to know if you are able to.
The truth is that there are no rules. A psychological study has shown that there is no right thing to say https://doi.org/10.1080/01973533.2018.1509341 Things that helped me might not help someone else but I’m going to tell you just in case those things are universal.
On Thursday I’m taking some friends out for dinner who were very supportive. We are going to celebrate my being fixed with sparkles, bubbles and food. Looking back, I realise how lucky I am, to have so many friends and family who care and did exactly the right thing for me. And also how lucky I am that there were so many others who tried to help and failed. I think of the Long Suffering Husband who failed at least 30% of the time but never gave up.
Most of the time, for me, when people failed it was because they were trying too hard. They wanted my pain to stop. They couldn’t understand it but thought they could. As soon as someone jumped to a conclusion I was lost. “I know exactly how you’re feeling,” they’d say and inside I would be screaming. I think that whatever someone is going through it is totally unique and no one ever really knows what it’s like to be inside their head.
“It’s because..” was another conversation starter that would make me curl up inside. This was terrible on two fronts. The first was that they were usually wrong but the second and more terrifying was the fear that they might get it right. When you are at your lowest and really struggling with something then the last thing you want is to be noticed.
“You should...” Oh help! This was the worst. Even if the advice that followed was good advice I generally couldn’t have heard it because it was framed in arrogance and judgement. There were bits of advice that were funny, like “You should eat more bananas.” (I’m still not sure why) and others that still hurt when I think of them now, like being told it’s time to move on.
I titled the blog ’moving’on because this is probably the least helpful thing, ever (in my opinion). In an age where growth mindset is all the rage, resilience is taught as something you can have just by saying, “get on with it,” and that anyone who can’t get over something is a snowflake (stupid term because snowflakes are amazing), this phrase is going to be said more often. The truth is that a person can’t always move on. I couldn’t and I am a pretty resilient person who has suddenly become a bit freaked out because the things she's always said are suddenly trendy. Until the video images stopped playing behind my eyes there was no way of moving on. I was stuck. And even now, I am still bereaved. My parents have still died within 18 months of each other, I have still dealt with things no squeamish person should ever have to deal with and I feel forever changed. I have good days and bad days. This is normal. (I’m telling myself as much as I’m telling anyone else).
So, if people failed because they were trying too hard then would it be better that they didn’t try at all? No. No. Absolutely not. I have more respect for people who tried and got it wrong (even if I was hurt by their trying) than those who just didn’t bother. The loneliness of dealing with these issues is indescribable.
The connection between people is hard when you are struggling. It's even harder if you are struggling with something that society doesn't like to talk about. Death is still a big taboo, as is mental health and menopause. Doing all three things together makes you a very difficult person to be around and you know it.
The people who were really supportive for me didn't care about any of that. They didn't need to talk about those things. They just let me know that they were there. They would swim alongside me, or invite me for coffee, or send me a text to ask how I was and be happy with my answer of 'OK'. They talked about other things and didn't get cross if I zoned out. They didn't hug me (that might be a personal thing). They didn't give up. They told me their stories without assuming that mine was the same. This, I think, is important. Other people's experiences help you work out what you might need. The more I heard about people's experience of grief the more I realised that I was in a different place. A conversation with a chap in a coffee shop, however, who had been a soldier and told me about his PTSD did make me feel much less alone as did the story a dog walker told me about their mother who had never been the same after nursing their grandmother through cancer. We should talk more about death.
One of the things that really kept me going through the early darkest days was that every morning I would get up to a message from a friend that contained a gif of the Pope doing something strange. It made me laugh and if someone can make you laugh when everything seems pointless then they are doing really well.
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