The unbearable load of good intentions

How well-intentioned expressions of support are breaking me

CONTENT WARNING (CW): mental health, mental illness, anxiety, depression, death, suicidal ideation, suicide — please consider not reading beyond this point if any of these topics tend to trigger you in a bad way

Not for the first time in my life I find myself Going Through Things™. Every time that happens I write about it in my diaries and notes, and sometimes I share some of my writings publicly. But mostly I ramp up the number, length, range and frequency of my social media posts while trying to avoid real-life interactions with people—because I turn in to a hyper-talkative (read: rambling) mess of a human being who for that reason will regret every real-life interaction she has. It’s my way of coping.

But regardless of what coping strategy I apply or how hard I work on myself, I cannot change other people and how they respond, and as much as I can work on improving myself I wish others would maybe, possibly, put in a fraction of that effort on themselves—yet too often they won’t, because, unlike me, they think of themselves as good, nice people. Unlike me, they walk their online and real-life paths with positive vibes and good intentions only, blissfully – and possibly willfully – ignorant of the harm they could actually be doing.

And I’m kind of done with that. Not because I want to, but because I’ve run out of strength to be able to. Dealing with people’s good intentions is draining. Explaining why is exhausting. Dealing with people’s upset and offense taken when they are told their words or actions aren’t helpful, when their intentions were so good and pure and kind and so on… it’s exasperating. And that feels me with guilt, and guilt is another burden.

I am writing this while going through a seriously dark episode of depression. This may not show on the outside when we meet or when you see me post on social media, but what you see of me does not equal what or who I am. You only ever get to see a tiny part of me.

me, motivating myself every single day to not give up

Because I spent a lifetime hearing “Don’t do this” and “Do that” without understandable explanation or guidance that made it make sense to my wicked brain, I am going to try to better than those people who caused me to walk on egg shells all the time.

I will attempt to explain this one more time and then hopefully never again, because I just cannot do it anymore:

The mental load of Going Through Things™ is huge and leaves little strength for additional burdens, such as other people getting avoidably upset or offended with me.

Note: A previous draft of the below spoke rather generically and abstractly, but in my unwillingness to speak for anyone else I re-wrote it and now there’s a lot of I-I-I and me-me-me there, which doesn’t look great but in my eyes it seemed less bad than hinting at having any authority to speak on behalf of anyone besides myself.

When I tell you I am Going Through Things™ please do not get upset with me if I don’t share as much detail as you would like to have, or only annoyingly give you tangential detail that you don’t really want to have. When you want and when I can, I will share as much as I am ready and/or feel safe to share (probably while still going off on annoying tangents). But right now I can’t.

“I know exactly how you feel!”

When I do tell you in more detail about what I am going through and it’s something you’ve experienced yourself, please do not respond with “I know exactly how you feel!” or variations on that. You may be able to relate, and it’s fine to say that, but you don’t know what I’m feeling. Much of the time I don’t even know my own feelings, and if I do I find myself unable to articulate what they are.

What I can articulate is this: I’ve been through more bereavements than I can count on my hands, yet through all those experiences I’ve never felt the same way twice. And I’ve had successful treatment for depression before, only for that very same treatment being prescribed years later and doing the exact opposite. So there is no way of knowing exactly how I feel. If I were healthy, anyone saying “I know exactly how you feel!” would probably just make me shrug. But in my current fragile state, it’s triggering.

I think I ‘get’ where this kind of reaction is coming from. When someone tells me, for instance, that their parent has just died, my brain immediately throws up a jumble of memories and feelings from back when each of my parents died. The older I get, the more experiences are in my brain and the better I can relate to people telling me of theirs. But I also know that someone else’s bereavement may not be the most suitable time to share my bereavement stories, unless and until the time for that is right.

It’s okay if you can’t.

You don’t have to be there for me. I understand if you can’t or don’t want to. One of the most beautiful human beings I used to know was the most genuine and honest person I knew. I could let them know when I was Going Through Things™ and they might respond with “I don’t know how to respond to that” or “Please don’t tell me any more right now, because I am currently Going Through Things™ myself and struggling to cope” but they were always one hundred per cent real for that, and when they could be there for me, they were, and always in meaningful ways.

I appreciate that people are raised with the burden of having to be good, nice people and the idea that “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” but I detest how too many people have interpreted that into believing they are good, nice people because they know what cookie cutter replies to give in any given situation, even if they don’t mean it.

And so, in response, I’ve learned to nod politely while hiding how their disingenuousness (or even dishonesty) rips through my soul. Again, I can only speak for myself here, but I prefer the honesty of “I can’t be there for you right now”. And generally, I stay silent, because I am already broken and while this kind of thing adds to my frailty, I also try not to upset others in the process.

But really, I wish I had the strength and courage to tell every person being unhelpful that they’re being unhelpful, not just one in every hundred or so. Except I fear the backlash, and the additional burden that brings.

“Why don’t you try…”

If I were healthy, the never-ending unsolicited recommendations would likely make me shrug. But in my current fragile state, it’s triggering. And exhausting. If I never asked you, maybe don’t give advice. And if I (or somene else) did ask a question, perhaps don’t answer a different question than the one asked or reply with unsollicited advice or Google search results or something else you weren’t asked for or about. Even if you mean well.

“But you don’t look/seem/sound sick...”

Don’t even go there. Ever. Again, it’s especially triggering right now. You mean well, but you could be doing harm. Many people with depression can still smile and laugh, crack jokes, engage in small talk, function in other ways. Depression doesn’t often make me sad and it rarely causes me to cry, yet it’s nicknamed ‘the big sad’ because many people with depression do in fact feel very sad and cry a lot. Even if you comment with the best of intentions… please reconsider and then maybe just don’t.

"I'm proud of you (and of how far you've come)!"

Hi, I am at rock bottom. You wanted to say kind words with the best of intentions and this is a cliché you learned and liked and therefore repeat to people. And no doubt there's a time and place to use it on someone, but not on me when I'm at my lowest. You meant well, but achieved the opposite. Your words cut through me, reminded me of the times I felt proud of myself and how I’ve screwed up my life since.

“Get a (new) cat/dog/other pet…”

The pets I’ve had throughout my life were my saviours, so I can appreciate why people (who know me) have recommended this. Losing ginger cat Keith three months ago was a massive blow. But I am currently struggling to care for myself, let alone anything or anyone else. By all means, cuddle your pets on my behalf, spam me with pictures/videos/stories of them, but please, I am begging you, don’t burden me with so much as a suggestion of responsibility over another living being. It’s… triggering right now.

“I was only trying to help!”

Here’s my ask: Please do not burden me with your good intentions, especially in situations where I already have a lot to deal with. If you’re told that what you’re saying or doing is unhelpful, please accept that and don’t act upset or offended when it is explained to you how your words or actions have had the opposite effect of what you intended to do.

Life experience taught me to avoid needing or accepting support or assistance at all cost, because more often than not it did the opposite of what it was intended as and/or even ended up being weaponised against me at a later stage. Sadly I ran out of bandwidth to either to keep swallowing that and live with the additional burden that gives me, or to speak out and burn bridges with people who were “only trying to help” me. Both the physical and mental strength evade me right now.

Here, too, I think I ‘get’ where it’s coming from. We are all raised with the burden of being good, nice people, but we’re not all taught early enough to appreciate impact before intention. We are taught that gift horses shan’t be looked in the mouth, which instils at least some of us with a misplaced sense of entitlement to praise and unconditional gratitude just for meaning well or making an effort.

Grateful

Please understand that I am grateful beyond words for all the support I’ve received from people. I know I would not be here without it—without you. I am not ungrateful, but some of the ‘support’ people have sought to give me (as described above) has only added to my anguish.

Which, again, would be fine if I were healthy and able to shrug it off, but right now I am not and it’s triggering mental healthy crises. And I am scared of how much darker things may get inside my head but also fearful of upsetting or offending you or anyone else, so I am having to shield myself a bit more right now until I’m at least a little less brittle than I am now.

Also, remember: You don’t have to be there for me if you can’t or don’t want to.

Thank you.