I have been meaning to write this post for a long long time now. But (as with me and all things emotional) it has taken a while to want to come out.
Each day we are with other people. Some we know, most we don’t. In shops, on public transport, wherever we go, we deal with people. Some of them are nice, others may be a bit irritable and testy. Or perhaps rude or distracted. I often wonder if they are dealing with secret sadness. Maybe one of them has been diagnosed with terminal cancer, or have a loved one who has. Maybe another one has had to deal with the infidelity of a partner, chronic pain, loss of their job, death of a loved one, or divorce. Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve. The most you could notice would be that they are quieter than usual, or eating more or less than they normally do.
These are the people who, when times are tough, withdraw. They roll into a tiny ball inside themselves and try to make themselves invisible to make the pain go away, or cut ties and let themselves drift away from the world. These are the people that, if they should get to the point where they end it all, it is said about them: ‘She was fine. There were no indicators that she was this desperate’. The thing is, there were, but people probably didn’t pay any attention because the expectation is that troubled people will talk about their problems, wail and cry, or tell their nearest and dearest that they cannot cope.
There are people who tell you in great detail about their every ache or pain. Or who tell everyone how depressed they are or if they are having trouble in a relationship. These people often say ‘I’m depressed. You don’t know what it is like to be depressed.’ to everyone around them. My guess is that many of the people a talker says that to are, in fact, depressed but don’t know how to talk about it.
Many people are talkers but not listeners. I think we should be listeners more often. And if you are a talker, be silent for long enough that a person with secret sadness can get those feelings out. It often takes time and a few questions that show you are interested and that you really care.
I guess I suffer from secret sadness. My whole close family died within 8 months when I was a teenager. I never shed a tear. All my pain was inside and I couldn’t get it out. The relatives who remained (all of them talkers who take up a lot of space) assumed from my lack of reaction that I was fine and that was that. Over the years the people I have unburdened to have been people who asked me how I was and then listened to my answer. And asked more questions. And showed interest. They reached out a lifeline to that cold tiny lonely person inside my normal shell and allowed me to creep out and come to safety.
I recently met an old lady on the bus. She was beautifully dressed and made up, and her hair was beautifully done. I helped her lift her parcels so that she could sit beside me. She said to me ‘don’t get old’. I smiled and said ‘my grandmother used to say that’. She asked me how old my grandmother was when she said that and I said about 79. My seat-mate said to me ‘I am 93 you know’. I said to her ‘oh that is wonderful!’ And she said to me ‘no it isn’t. All my friends are dead. All my family is dead. My son is 70 years old and he has his own family. I am so lonely and I am sad. I can’t wait for my life to be over’. She didn’t say it in an angry tone, or a miserable tone, just resigned. If I had not spoken to her I would not have known about her secret sadness. I would have seen a sprightly elderly woman who had a happy face for the bus driver and for me.
So today, if someone snaps at you or is irritable or a little quieter than normal – think ‘they may be suffering from secret sadness’ and give them a warm smile, bring them a cup of coffee or show them kindness in a myriad of tiny ways. You may even want to ask them how they are and take a moment from your busy life to stop and really listen. You may reach a frightened soul curled into a tiny, scared ball inside themselves and give them warmth and hope.
