Stick your hand in the air if, by virtue of being a survivor of abuse or someone who lives with chronic mental or physical illness – or any combination of those, you’ve had struggles with friendships.
I know I have. Oh boy, have I … Any friend of mine reading this, and there are precious few these days for reasons which should become apparent, will concur!
What about being a friend to someone who falls into one or more of those categories? Stick your hand in the air and wave it about if that’s you. How is it for you??
Have you stuck by a friend through thick and thin?
Have you struggled to know what to say or how to deal with a friend’s circumstances? Have you found it easier to distance yourself, although you might feel guilty about doing it?
I am, to use a cliche, a ‘people person.’ I can be shy but I can also be ‘Tigger’ . I am sociable and very interested in others. I’m warm, friendly, caring … and witty(or so I like to think!). So what’s going wrong, why do I have so few friends now and almost no one I can count on?
Disclosing experiences of abuse is difficult for a multitude of reasons. I began doing it in my thirties, at a time when I had many established friendships. It didn’t happen earlier because until then I didn’t know that what I had experienced, was continuing to experience, was abuse, and I was caught up in the machinations of life with abusers and stuck behind the wall of silence so often installed by those who abuse.
I remember so clearly. A locum GP had finally asked the right questions and discovered my real circumstances, not only those my brave front portrayed. She referred me to a counsellor, who told me so carefully and with such compassion …
‘This is abuse … you don’t have to live like this.’
I was assailed by a plethora of thoughts and feelings – everything from pain to confusion, fear to disbelief. I was clear on one thing. It was better this was out in the open, people would rally, I would be supported and loved through this.
It didn’t quite work out that way.