We keep telling people to talk.
Talk to somebody. Reach out. Check in with your mates. It’s okay not to be okay.
We’ve been saying variations of the same thing for years.
And I keep wondering whether we’ve concentrated so much on telling struggling people to speak that we’ve forgotten the rather important second half of the conversation.
Is anybody actually listening?
I don’t mean sending somebody a text saying, “You okay, mate?”
Sometimes that’s just sending a text, especially when there’s no reply and nothing else happens. No phone call later. No knock at the door. No second message asking whether they’re genuinely all right. Just the comforting knowledge that you did your bit because you sent the message.
We’ve talked ourselves into believing that contact and support are the same thing.
They aren’t.
The same thing happens with all those memes.
“I’d rather listen to your problems than attend your funeral.”
“Reach out.”
“Talk to someone.”
“Check on your strong friends.”
Thousands of shares. Thousands of likes.
And I’m sure many of the people sharing them mean every word.
But what happens when somebody actually does reach out?
Not with a beautifully explained account of what’s happening inside their head. People who are falling apart don’t generally send a carefully structured briefing note.
They might say they’ve had enough, then disappear for a while. They might sound angry, or drunk, or make a joke that isn’t quite a joke. They might say something uncomfortable at exactly the wrong time, when you’re busy, tired, trying to get dinner sorted or watching something on television.
That’s when all the slogans get tested.
Listening is considerably harder than sharing a meme.
Because somebody who’s genuinely struggling might repeat themselves, make little sense, or reject every sensible suggestion you offer. They might be hard work to be around. They might tell you things you don’t know how to answer.
Sometimes there isn’t an answer.
That’s another thing I think we’ve got wrong.
People seem frightened of listening unless they know how to fix whatever they’re hearing.
So the conversation quickly becomes advice.
- Have you tried this?
- Have you spoken to your GP?
- You need to get out more.
- You need something to focus on.
- Think positively.
- Other people care about you.
All perfectly well intentioned.
Sometimes the person just wanted somebody to hear them, not repair them.
There’s a strange contradiction in mental health support now.
We constantly encourage people to talk, yet so much of the system somebody encounters when they do talk is designed to redirect them somewhere else.
Invalidated, dismissed, passed on…
Contact an organisation and there’s a fair chance the first thing you receive is an automated message.
- If you’re struggling, call this number.
- If you’re in crisis, call that number.
- If you’re in immediate danger, call 999 or go to A&E.
Those services have their place. Of course they do.
I know there are some wonderful people working in mental health services and charities who genuinely do listen.
But there’s something rather bleak about telling somebody who feels unheard to reach out, then immediately replying with another set of instructions about who else they should reach out to.
They call it sign-posting…
But surely somebody somewhere eventually has to listen.
Actually listen.
Not listen while waiting for their turn to speak, or deciding whether the person’s problems are serious enough. Not listen while mentally composing the reassuring thing they’re supposed to say, and not disappear because the conversation gets uncomfortable.
Suicide prevention is obviously far more complicated than listening. There’s no neat Facebook answer to something so serious.
Surely listening has to be somewhere near the beginning.
Because “talk to somebody” only works when there is somebody prepared to sit at the other end of that sentence.
Perhaps instead of endlessly asking struggling people to speak up, some of the conversation needs turning around.
Are we available?
Do we notice?
Do we follow up?
Can we sit with somebody who isn’t okay without immediately trying to make them okay?
Can we hear something difficult without changing the subject because it makes us uncomfortable?
That seems rather more useful than another sunset photograph telling people to reach out.
People have been told to talk.
Perhaps the rest of us need to get better at listening.