The hardest lesson I had to learn as a parent was that I’d given birth to an independent human being who would do what he wanted and say what he wanted. No matter how hard I pushed, argued, begged, or negotiated, if he didn’t want to do it, he wasn’t going to do it. And that’s extraordinarily frustrating. I was in complete control of him as an infant. I guided him as a toddler and into kindergarten and elementary school. Around middle school I saw things were changing. By high school I’d been harshly confronted by that fact. He wasn’t just my son; he was his own person. I’d been living with the illusion of control.
When it comes to those we care for, we want good things for them. Having experienced pain ourselves we wish to spare others the same pain. We advise, suggest, strongly recommend, order, command and even demand. We understand the concept of letting someone live their life, come to their own conclusions, make mistakes… but don’t you see it would be so much simpler if you just do what I say? I know what’s best. You’ll thank me later.
These words then fall on deaf ears. I wonder if we all begin flashing back to being children listening to our parent’s “life lessons” and we reflexively begin digging in our heels. It’s rain on a window; the water slides away and isn’t absorbed.
Feeling Helpless
Watching those we care for struggling with mental illness creates a unique type of helplessness. I’ve thought often about why this is. Regarding treatments, those for mental health are slow. It can take four to six weeks to see positive impact from taking an antidepressant – if you’re on the right drug and right dosage. I think it’s safe to say it’s very rare the first medication and dosage is the one that works. There’s a lot of waiting, needing to be patient and trial and error involved.
For someone in crisis, where you’re living life one second to the next, the waiting is near interminable. Mental and physical pain may be constant which lessens our ability to cope, and we lash out at those around us. A body in pain, a mind in torment, wanting so desperately to rest and find some semblance of peace, but there may not be any. It’s no wonder mental health crises can cause fatalism.
Have you heard (or said) phrases like the following:
- Can’t you just be happy?
- All you need to do is get out more and start exercising.
- I don’t understand why you feel depressed; your life is great.
- So many people have it so much worse than you.
- Isn’t everyone depressed these days?
- You’re just being moody.
- There really isn’t anything wrong with you.
- If you would just decide to be in a better mood, you would start to feel better.
- Look at all I’ve been through and I’m not depressed.
- This is just an excuse to be lazy.
I’ve heard many of these over the years. I know when I hear this someone is trying to motivate me into action or thinks this will make me become happy as easily as flipping a light switch. Most of those statements, however, have the opposite effect, making us feel guilty, ashamed or that we’re letting someone down.
What You Know About It
There’s an infographic I saw of a circle as large as an orange titled “Someone’s Life.” Inside that circle was a really tiny circle with an arrow pointing to it saying, “What you know about it.” Even when we’ve known someone all our lives, we’ve only seen their outer life; we know them by how we interact with them. We’re completely unaware of their inner life, how they think, feelings, beliefs, fears, guilt, secrets. We only know a small fraction and what we see is through our own inner lens and biases.
Luckily, the goal here is not to be able to fully understand our loved ones; the goal is to support. And while I may be taking some baggage off the table, there’s still a lot there to unpack. What are some ways we can support someone in crisis?
Partner With The Care Team
Ask your loved one if you can speak to their care team about support. You don’t need to know the details but does their care team suggest you just spend time with them, help them in setting goals and completing tasks, maybe they want someone frequently available to text with, or someone to help them with accountability. Depending on a person’s treatment plan and current mental state, any of those options might be best approach. If you can get the opinion of the care team up front, you won’t have to spend time on trial and error.
Keep Your Cup Full
I also recommend that if you are responsible for providing care for someone in a mental crisis, find support services for yourself. Just like caring for someone with a critical or chronic physical illness, mental illness support can be just as taxing and draining. You’re supporting your loved ones so they are not alone. Likewise, you should not be alone. And you cannot provide your best support if you are stretched to your limit. In other words, you cannot pour from an empty cup. Be sure to take time for yourself and seek professional support as needed.
Starting Conversations
Sometimes the biggest challenge is just having a conversation. There is a wonderful website called Seize The Awkward (www.seizetheawkward.org) with lots of tips for starting and continuing conversations. I think we tend to over-censor ourselves when speaking to someone in crisis. I firmly believe it’s just about being present with your loved ones. I remember a story someone told me about how she was trying to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate all winter… what kind of chocolate, the type of milk, do you heat it in a pan or microwave, big versus mini marshmallows, the joy of going a little crazy with the whipped cream. It was so random and unimportant, but it made me want to make a cup of hot chocolate when I could barely muster the ambition to get out of bed. It was nice to look forward to doing something.
It’s not about magically saying the perfect thing that will break the spell of depression and free your loved one. It’s about showing up, sitting with someone in their mess and not judging them for it. No one is expecting you to be their savior. Depression is a disease where, ultimately, we save ourselves, but it’s a long and scary road. We’ll likely get lost and lose hope. You’re there to say, “I see you, I’m here for you and it’s ok if you don’t get there overnight. I love you for you and I know you can do it, even if you don’t believe that yourself. I will believe it for the both of us until you’re ready.” Watch corny movies; eat too much ice cream. Try to find moments of peace to savor.
Long-term Treatment
Depending on the type and extent of the mental illness, be aware of the possibility of lifetime treatment. Sadly, mental illness isn’t cured like taking a painkiller for a headache. Your loved ones may need to be on medication their entire lives. This bothered me very much at first. Logically I understood the parallels between taking insulin for life if you had Type 1 diabetes and taking antidepressants, but it wasn’t the same. I wondered, “Is it because it is medicine for the brain?” But then how do you rationalize the difference in acceptance between medication for chronic migraines and that for depression?
Medication for mental illness still has a negative stigma attached to it. My medication balances me so I can think and perform at an optimum level. I can fall into a completely non-functional state if I am without it. Why then is it seen as a bad thing? If I take a drug that keeps my mind and body operating at a level enabling me to successfully interact with the world around me, why would I be seen as a person that is less able, or just less than, another person? The medication clarifies my thoughts, helps me remain logical and able to understand the world around me. It doesn’t take my view of reality hostage or change who I truly am. We shouldn’t be stigmatized for admitting we have a medical condition and require treatment. Stress to your loved ones that illness is illness, irrespective of the part of the body impacted.
Thank You, Superheroes!
Lastly, THANK YOU! Thank you for being someone’s support, which in my mind makes you 100% a superhero. As I mentioned before, positive change for someone with mental illness is a slow process. Imagine you’re standing in front of a lamp but there is a piece of black paper in front of your face. We can’t see the light. But you have a pin. Your support is like that pin. You can put a hole in the black paper with the pin and see that there is light behind it. It’s small, but it’s there. As you put more holes in the paper, there is more and more light. Your support matters so much to help your loved ones find their way back to the light.
Thank you for being someone’s superhero.
And thanks everyone for reading!