When my grandma battled leukemia, her room was always overflowing with love and support from everyone whose life she had touched, which was many. I scheduled phone call times with all her family back in France. Even when she was too too weak to even speak, I held the phone to her ear and her sisters spoke softly to her and tears would flow as her heart filled with a plethora of emotion.
Our human nature always jumps into Pure Love Mode when the battles we face become too much to bear. Friends love and surround us as best they can and offer continued support in our recovery.
When we are sick with a cold or flu or broke a leg or had surgery, conditions aren't so grave, but we still jump in to bring over some food, chicken soup, run errands for our friend while he or she is recuperating. Our roommates and partners run to the store for more Kleenex, run to pick up prescriptions, make appointments for us.
It is my experience that this same kind of support is not as present when someone is suffering an episode or mental health break. Friends and family tend to stay away, probably out of fear or discomfort in not knowing what to say. I remember my husband first visiting me during family hours on that awful 3rd floor and a team of workers shook his hand and thanked him for coming. Once I was moved to a floor with more freedom, he coordinated some visits with two other friends. All it took to give me HOPE was to see some friends who would play scrabble with me or sit in the common area and watch dumb tv with me.
Friends often back off from mental illness, and I wish it weren't that way. It's great to have peers to lean on and develop temporary friends with those in treatment alongside you, but these relationships don't last after life returns to normal.
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