The Letter You May Need to Send to Save Your Life

For very understandable reasons, we spend an enormous amount of energy trying to make sure that we come across to other people as sane, balanced and normal. We know the reality is a little more complicated but – for much of our lives – we’re able to keep matters more or less under wraps. There may have been a few extreme moments on our own in the bedroom or bathroom or driving in the car or coming home late on a train, but generally we’ll have drawn tight boundaries around the crises and no one will have known.

But then – if we are unlucky and probably if we are just human – life will test us more than this. At some stage, we’ll end up in a situation that blows apart our normal abilities to cope, which destroys our capacity for perspective, for reason, for calm and for mastery. It might be something at work or in our relationships, a financial or a health issue, something to do with reputation or with family responsibility. As the problem continues to grow, we will realise that we are in uncharted waters, that we are entirely overwhelmed – and that we don’t know whom to turn to. Sadly it isn’t uncommon that our thoughts may eventually grow very dark indeed. In our private agony, we may start to imagine that it really would be better if we didn’t exist and that there might be only one way to stop the pain.

If we are to survive (and there truly may be nothing less at stake), we are going to need to be very brave indeed. We’re going to need to break the isolated habits of a lifetime – and take someone into our confidence. Every impulse may tell us to manage things alone; we are trained to fear confession; we are experts in not revealing our vulnerabilities.

At the same time, we don’t have a choice any longer. We might not make it if we do not speak. And so, we may simply have to write a message or letter a bit like this to someone close to us whom we hoped never to have to depend on to this extent:

I’m so sorry to bother you with this. Something a bit difficult has come up. Please forgive me for taking up your time. I thought I could cope but I can’t. I’m feeling overwhelmed and didn’t know whom to turn to.

The reality is that we may not have an ideal friend in the vicinity. Perhaps the person we have picked is a little gauche or easily scared or busy. But we can’t wait for perfection to arrive. We need another mind to help us where our own has faltered.

I wonder if I might drop in on you. After work. Or perhaps we can have a call one evening.

We may in any case be underestimating what they can deal with. We may have colluded with them to keep matters fun and superficial over the years but they, like we, will have their complexities and may be a lot more adept at navigating the messiness of life than we imagine. We may be very surprised by what others can deal with when we need them.

I hope this isn’t too surprising. I’m sure I can get through this, but right now I’m a bit at sea.

The price of survival is a drop in pride. They’ll have to see us crying, they’ll have to know we’ve done a foolish or embarrassing thing, we’ll have to show that we’re not as mentally coherent as we wanted to be, we’ll need to admit to our confusion, sorrow and guilt. It’s hugely awkward and absolutely not our first choice, but if we act, we’ll have a chance to reach our eighties and maybe see some grandchildren.

I wish I didn’t have to bother you.

We underestimate how much we all love to be needed; how much we long to be able to help others as a way to make ourselves feel less useless and alone. We may almost be doing someone else a favour; rescuing them from a sense of isolation.

I can explain properly when I see you.

There will probably be tears when we eventually narrate our story. We’ll think we are ‘pathetic’ but any kind onlooker will simply take us to be touching and brave. With any luck, the friend will know more or less what to say, the confession will help hugely, some perspective will be found – and the friendship will become deeper than any we have yet had.

We’ll eventually be able to look back on this nightmarish period with a shudder but also immense gratitude. We’ll have learnt a lesson in not keeping it all to ourselves and, almost without knowing it, we’ll start to emit suggestions to others that we would be someone to talk to during the worst days of their lives.