Dear readers, time and again we hear from people who have suffered a tragic blow that, at first, there is a great deal of sympathy. But the longer and/or more complicated the situation becomes, the fewer enquiries there are. Sonja has a mental health condition, and little by little her circle of friends simply drifted away. We spoke to her about it:
Dear Sonja, could you start by telling us a little bit about yourself?
I am 40 years old, married, have two wonderful children and live in a small town in North Rhine-Westphalia.
A few years ago, you developed a mental health condition. When did it start and how does the condition manifest itself?
It started in 2019 and the symptoms were dizziness and light-headedness. I was thoroughly checked out, but there were no physical illnesses. The symptoms got worse and worse and, out of fear of the dizziness, I didn’t want to go out at all anymore. I sat at home, listening very closely to my body to see if there were any more symptoms, and so, bit by bit, I withdrew more and more.
So you hardly left the house at all?
Exactly, I was simply too afraid that something might happen to me. I always felt like I was going to collapse when I went out. And in fact, the lack of exercise made me increasingly unsteady on my feet. It was a vicious circle and only intensified my fears.
And when you did have to go out?
Scheduled appointments would make me anxious and restless days in advance, and I usually couldn’t go to them. Sometimes I could be persuaded to go on spontaneous outings, but that was only possible in the countryside, where there were few other people, and the car couldn’t be parked too far away.
Did you seek professional help?
Yes, once it was clear that there were no physical causes, I was advised to seek psychological help. I did that, but somehow it didn’t really help me much.
Then came the pandemic, and that actually did me good. Suddenly I ‘had’ do anything anymore, because you weren’t allowed to do anything. There were no obligations, just a lot of peace and quiet. And that somehow gave me strength. I picked myself up bit by bit and kept giving myself a kick up the backside, because I knew it was ‘just’ my thoughts and I’m physically healthy.
How are you today?
After things improved during the pandemic, they got worse again afterwards. My fears have changed too. For example, I don’t drive a car anymore because I’m too afraid of doing something wrong. Generally speaking, I’m very afraid of doing things wrong, even though I know I can’t possibly do anything wrong.
So, when things got worse again, I sought out every conceivable form of help. I saw a psychologist, read self-help books and booked online courses. In the end, it was probably the combination of therapy and self-motivation that helped me get back on my feet.
Today I’m doing well. Not perfect, but well. It’s still the case that I often feel restless and uneasy, but I now know that I only have to endure it for about 30 minutes, then my body and nervous system relax. I can now enjoy outings and activities too, and I’m proud of myself when I’ve managed to achieve something again.
How did your family cope with your illness?
My husband has supported me – even through the hundredth online course and offer of help. He was always understanding when we wanted to go on an outing, but I then couldn’t go into the swimming pool, for example. But it’s also clear that nobody who isn’t affected themselves can really understand what’s going on inside you.
And so there were, and still are, many family members who weren’t particularly understanding. I’d hear things like: “That sort of thing doesn’t even exist!” or “You really need to get fit again now.” That hurt me deeply, because I didn’t choose to have this illness. I was rarely asked how I was really feeling, and I never had the sense that anyone really wanted to know how I was or where my fears might be coming from…
You also told us that some friends turned their backs on you. Can you tell us a bit more about that?
The fact that friends drifted away happened rather gradually. During the initial acute phase, I could barely leave the house, so I didn’t attend any get-togethers or go anywhere – and so I suppose they eventually forgot about me.
Here, too, I was never really asked how I was actually getting on. Perhaps I should have explained things more or reached out to my friends, but I couldn’t do that at the time and I find it difficult to ask for help anyway.
Many people didn’t even notice the second, very difficult phase, because there was hardly any contact left. These days, nobody even asks me if I’d like to go out and do something – though I don’t really like going to bars or restaurants anyway…
How did it affect you when you realised people were turning away from you?
At first I didn’t even notice, but now I do, because the anxiety was so intense and I was preoccupied with it. Looking back with a bit of hindsight, it does hurt me a great deal. I was the weakest link in the group, and people tend to shun that.
But then I also think that it probably wasn’t meant maliciously at all. It’s probably very hard to understand what someone with a mental illness is feeling..
What would have helped you on bad days from friends and acquaintances?
Just a listening ear, a kind enquiry. And perhaps even a genuine interest in how I’m doing. That’s what I’d still wish for today. Most people don’t bring up my situation because they assume everything is fine, as I usually manage my daily life quite well again. Yet it would be nice if I could simply tell them how I’m really feeling.
