My dearest sister, how are you doing? I truly hope you’re holding up okay. Today, I want us to chat about something really important, something that goes deep, especially for our wellbeing when our minds feel a bit jumbled and the days are dark. It’s about love, but maybe not in the way we always hear it in songs or see in the movies. This is about that powerful, healing kind of love that can be the real medicine when our mental health is shaky.
That One Crucial Thing… Often Missing from the Doctor’s Notes
It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? When someone is going through serious mental distress, when their mind is heavy and everything feels bleak, the one thing that can truly make all the difference, the absolute cornerstone of their recovery, is something you’ll hardly ever see mentioned in any medical textbook or psychiatric guide. That special ingredient, my sister, is love. Real, genuine love.
You know, the word “love” is so often linked with romance or those overly sentimental movie moments that we can easily overlook its critical, life-saving role in helping us keep faith with life, especially when we’re overwhelmed by psychological confusion and deep sorrow. Love – whether it’s from a close friend, your partner, your children, or even your parents – this love has an almost unbreakable power to rescue us, to pull us back from the edge when our minds are in turmoil.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say this: anyone who has ever suffered from a serious mental illness and manages to find their way back to wellness, they do so – whether they consciously realize it or not – because, somewhere along the line, they experienced this profound kind of love. And, by extension, it’s also true that no one ever falls into severe mental illness without, at some point in their life, having faced a serious shortage, a real deficit, of this life-giving love. It’s like love is the main thread that runs through both the onset of our worst mental struggles and the journey back to feeling okay again.
So, if this love is so powerful, so essential, what exactly are we talking about when we say “love” in this life-giving, mind-healing sense? It’s not just about saying “I love you” casually. It’s a love that truly heals, that breathes life back into a weary spirit. Let’s explore it, bit by bit.
So, What Kind of Love Are We Really Talking About?
This isn’t the fairytale love that’s all about grand gestures and drama, though those can be nice in their own way. This is the kind of love that gets down into the trenches with you when you’re struggling, the kind that holds your hand in the dark and whispers “you are not alone” when your own mind is trying to convince you otherwise.
Unconditional Approval: Accepted Just As You Are, No Questions Asked
My sister, when our minds are unwell, one of the most painful things is that constant, punishing inner voice telling us how awful we are. You feel worthless, you might even hate yourself, you’re convinced you’re a terrible person. We can be drowning in self-loathing. Without anyone else even saying a word, we can persuade ourselves that we are the worst of the worst. Our own internal “charge sheet” against ourselves is brutal: ‘awful,’ ‘useless,’ ‘bad.’ And if someone tries to get us to explain why we feel this way in a logical manner, we often just get stuck. We can’t even pinpoint a specific “crime,” or if we do, to an outsider, it doesn’t seem to warrant the kind of merciless judgment we inflict on ourselves. It’s like a deep-seated self-doubt just breaks through all our defenses and takes over, leaving no room for even a tiny bit of kindness or gentleness towards ourselves. We are just so incredibly appalled by, and unforgiving of, who we are.
In that kind of deep agony, that’s where a loving companion can literally be the difference between giving up completely and finding the will to keep going. These loving souls, they don’t try to argue you out of your feelings with cold reason or long lectures. They don’t go in for flashy, over-the-top displays of affection that can feel insincere. Instead, they show you that you matter to them in a thousand small, quiet, yet incredibly fundamental ways.
They keep showing up, day after day, even when you can barely manage a word. They make easy, pleasant conversation about everyday things that won’t make you anxious – maybe just talking about the weather, or sharing a light-hearted story. They remember your favourite blanket, or that particular way you like your tea. They know how to offer a gentle joke when it might lift the heaviness for a moment, and they also know when to simply suggest you rest, when they sense you’re overwhelmed. They might have a good understanding of what’s causing your pain, they might sense the source of your troubles, but they aren’t pushing you for a big, dramatic confession or deep conversation before you’re ready.
They can handle how ill you are, how “messy” things might seem around you or within you. They commit to sticking by you, to supporting you, no matter how long it takes. You don’t have to put on a show for them or try to impress them. They won’t get overly worried if you don’t look your best, or about some of the strange things you might say when you’re not feeling yourself. They are not going to give up on you. The illness might take a month, it might take years. They are going nowhere. You can call them at odd hours, in the middle of the night, and they’ll be there. You can cry your heart out, or you can sound perfectly composed and reasonable, and they’ll listen with the same unwavering care.
It’s like they remarkably – almost miraculously – love you just for who you are, not for what you achieve, not for your successes, not for your “perfect” image. They hold up a loving mirror to you, and slowly, gently, they help you to tolerate, and maybe even begin to like, the reflection you see. Honestly, that is pretty much the most beautiful, most powerful thing anyone can experience.
No Judgment: Love Without Looking Down on You
Sometimes, when people try to be kind, supposedly wanting to help, you can feel that they are secretly looking down on you. There’s this hint of patronizing pity underneath their apparent kindness. They – the “healthy ones,” the ones who seem to have it all together – have come to visit you, the “sick one,” but you can sense how much they cling to this fundamental difference between the difficult situation you are in and how they see themselves. You are the one with the problems, and they will always represent health, rationality, and stability. They feel sorry for you from a distance, as if you are the one drowning while they are safe and dry on the shore, just observing.
But a truly loving companion, my dear sister, shows no such hints of superiority. They do not judge you as being beneath them when you’re lying there, perhaps in your pyjamas at midday, unable to face the world. Why? Because they don’t fundamentally see themselves as ‘above’ someone who is mentally unwell. They get it. They know that you may happen to be very ill at this moment, but it could just as easily have been them, if not for the unpredictable twists of life, psychology, and brain chemistry. They don’t make you feel small by secretly holding onto their belief in their own unshakeable strength and competence. The truth is, any of us can get sick, and those who find themselves in that dark place may not even be the “weakest,” just the ones whose defenses gave way first.
These loving companions, they’ll casually say things that show you they understand. “You know, life can be really tough sometimes,” they might say, or “Honestly, we all have our own little struggles and quirks,” or “I can imagine, if things were different, I could be in a similar place too.” They don’t offer insincere sympathy from an untouchable position of strength. They are right there with you, holding your hand, metaphorically speaking, suffering with you and for you. That, my sister, is love that doesn’t look down on you.
Unwavering Loyalty: The Kind That Stands Tall
At the very heart of many mental traumas, right in the deepest part, is often an early experience of being let down, of abandonment. Someone, at a time when you desperately needed them, simply wasn’t there for you. Maybe they were physically absent, or perhaps emotionally distant. And that neglect, that absence, has likely thrown you off balance ever since, leaving you feeling unsteady. As an adult, you might find it incredibly hard to truly depend on others, to trust that someone won’t just disappear when things get tough, or take advantage of your vulnerability.
A loving companion, one who truly understands, senses this deep wound in you. And they are ready to fight – not with aggression, but with consistent presence and unwavering support – to earn your trust. They know that they can’t just say “I’m loyal” and expect you to instantly believe it. They have to prove it. And how do they do that? By not deserting you, by not running away, especially at those moments when anyone else would be tempted to give up, when you are at your most difficult, perhaps feeling your most unlovable.
Sometimes, you might even try to push them away, to provoke a negative reaction from those offering kindness. It’s not because you’re a bad person; it’s often an unconscious way of testing the relationship, to see if this love is real, if it will last. You might say some awful, hurtful things to a carer you actually care about deeply, or pretend to be completely indifferent to them, just to see if they’ll flinch, if they’ll leave. But if this companion is wise, if their love is genuine and strong, they will listen, they will absorb the pain you’re expressing, and they will remain steady – not because they are weak or a pushover, but because they understand that they are being tested. They understand that a basic, fundamental piece of repair work around trust is taking place.
You have to be given a chance – a chance you may have tragically missed out on in your childhood – to be a bit more demanding than usual, a bit more “difficult,” in order to witness, conclusively, that this is not enough to destroy love. That you can be ill, you can be messy, you can be “not yourself,” and still be acceptable, still be loved, by another. Imagine how much more real and deep that love will feel, once it has been shaken by your illness, by your hardest moments, and it has not only survived, but perhaps even emerged stronger. That’s true loyalty.
Giving Hope: Reassurance When Fear is Overwhelming
My dear, when your mind is unwell, the future can feel like a source of ongoing, limitless torment. Tomorrow can be terrifying. A thousand questions, a thousand fears, can haunt you constantly: What if someone gets very angry with me? What if they see me as a burden and want to get rid of me? What if someone tries to harm me? What if these voices in my head, this terrible sadness, this crushing anxiety, never, ever go away? Your spirit can feel completely constricted by worry.
The loving companion, in this storm of fear, does their best to calm the panic. They don’t offer false promises or easy, dismissive answers. Instead, they present the future as unknowable in its precise details, yes, but fundamentally safe and bearable. They gently hold open options for you. They might remind you that it will always be possible to leave a toxic environment, to live very quietly in a small, peaceful place, perhaps even back in your home village if that brings comfort, to be at home and lead a simple, domestic life if that’s what you need. They reassure you that no one expects you to perform grand, heroic feats anymore; just “being,” just surviving, is more than enough. There doesn’t have to be this immense pressure to earn a lot of money, to constantly impress strangers, or to be some kind of “superwoman.” As long as you are alive, that is what’s most important.
More significantly, this loving companion insists, with quiet conviction, that they will be there to personally help ensure that the future will be manageable. When things get terrible, when the darkness feels overwhelming, they assure you that you can be in each other’s presence, you can support each other’s spirits, you won’t have to face it all alone.
This loving person doesn’t get tired of repeating the same fundamental message, again and again if necessary: “I am here for you, and somehow, it will be okay.” Even if this “okay” isn’t the dream life you once imagined for yourself, still, it will be okay. It will be better than the alternative, which, in the mind of someone suffering deeply, is often despair or worse. Quite how the years ahead are going to unfold, no one knows for sure; details will have to be figured out later. But what is known, right now, in this moment, is that the future won’t have to be unendurable. Why? Because there is love. And that simple truth can make all the difference in the world.
Patience Like a Mother’s: The Kind That Never Runs Out
Oh, when we are mentally unwell, we can sometimes be incredibly repetitive and, yes, even tedious, especially with the number of anxieties we desperately need to talk through, often over and over again. We might want to revisit the same worry endlessly: “Did I say something awful to so-and-so at that office party seven years ago?” “Could I have accidentally upset that person I went on a few dates with five years back?” “Am I going to end up bankrupt because I forgot to mention one tiny detail to my accountant?” The same fears, the same scenarios, can play out on a loop in our minds and in our conversations.
Loving parents often understand this kind of thing. The minds of small children are similarly filled with anxiety-inducing and sometimes peculiar questions: “Mummy, is there a monster under my bed?” “What if one of those big trees outside comes into my room at night and takes me away?” “What if the other children laugh at me when I go to school tomorrow?”
The temptation for many, when faced with these repetitive adult anxieties, can be to rush, to give a quick, dismissive, impatient answer. “Oh, don’t worry, it will be fine! Just forget about it!” “Nonsense, there’s no ‘monster’!” And so on. But the truly loving response, the one that actually helps to heal, is to take the worry as seriously as the person feeling it does. To address it directly, without scoffing, without minimizing its importance to them, without denying the scale of the concern as it exists in their mind.
A loving companion might actually sit down with you, maybe with a notepad and pen, and go through all those work anxieties with you, point by point, calmly. It doesn’t matter if this is the first time or the fifteenth time you’ve had this conversation. Love gives them the patience to enter imaginatively into your worried mind and try to settle it by sensibly examining what there might genuinely be to fear, and what is just the illness amplifying those fears.
You may feel like you need them to “slay imaginary dragons” for you night after night. And that loving person, metaphorically speaking, should always be ready to go through, yet again, all the reasons why those dragons have, after all, decided to leave you completely in peace. That kind of deep, unwavering patience, my sister, is a profound and healing act of love.
Loving You “Just the Way You Are,” No Performance Needed
So many of us, especially as women, and perhaps even more so if we are wrestling with our mental health, have carried this heavy burden all our lives – this nagging, persistent feeling that we are not, in and of ourselves, “good enough.” You feel like you always have to do something, be something, achieve something, to be worthy of love. We might have become extremely high achievers, working ourselves to the point of exhaustion for decades, all to prove to someone – maybe a critical parent, maybe society, maybe even our own inner critic – that we are respectable and deserving after all. We might have chased money, status, power, all those shiny “prizes” the world offers, trying to fill that ghastly, deep-seated emptiness, that fear that we wouldn’t matter to people, wouldn’t be loved, unless we first impressed them with our worldly success.
Then, when the breakdown happens, when you are ill, when you are stripped of all your usual tools to impress – your high-powered job, your boundless energy, your social “sparkle” – what often remains unbelievable to these exhausted warriors is that they could ever be loved outside of their performance in this relentless worldly race. “Surely, people only liked me for what I could do for them, or for my achievements?” “Surely, it has to be my popularity, my connections, that really mattered?”
But now, in this vulnerable state, without any of the usual ways to “prove your worth,” the person who is mentally unwell has the chance to discover a more complex, more profound, and ultimately more healing lesson. According to the harsh values they have been living by, they might now see themselves as a “disgrace,” a “failure,” and perhaps feel they should just give up. But, with a bit of luck, and perhaps some grace, in the presence of a truly loving companion, they can start to believe in something far more nuanced and miraculous: that they could be loved without1 all the accolades and achievements. That they could be loved even when they feel they have “nothing to offer” in the conventional sense. That true love isn’t about impressing someone or making them admire your strength or success. That an adult can love another adult a little like a good parent loves their child: not because of anything they have done,2 not because they are “useful” or “successful,” but simply and poignantly, “just because they exist.” They see you, your essence, your spirit, and they love you just as you are. Imagine the healing power of that.
An Independent Mind: They Don’t Care What “Other People” Think
A good, truly loving companion, the kind who genuinely has your back when you’re mentally unwell, heals through their incredible ability not to care too much about “what other people think.” They are not swayed by gossip or the judgment of the crowd.
Because, let’s be honest, out there, some people will be whispering. Some people will be judging. Some will say the illness isn’t real, that you’re “just pretending,” or that you somehow “deserve” it, or that you were always a bit “off” to begin with. The good companion knows enough about human nature, about the sometimes cruel and often misinformed “perversities” of people’s minds, not to be bothered in the slightest when they encounter everyday prejudice and negativity. They understand that foolishness and lack of understanding are common, and to be expected. The hasty judgments of thousands of people will, of course, often be wrong, based on incomplete information, and lacking in proper empathy.
But that, for this loving companion, is no reason to panic or to abandon their own understanding of you and your worth. Let others laugh, let them feel superior, let them be misinformed; such are the consoling, strengthening messages of love that you desperately need to hear when you are feeling defenseless before the often harsh judgments of the world. Your loving companion knows where their loyalties lie. They are not going to give up on you just because some people are making unkind remarks or looking down on you. They aren’t “democratic” when it comes to love; it’s not about what the majority thinks. They don’t care if they are in a minority of one in loving you, in believing in you. And that unwavering, independent conviction, my sister, is often why you will find the strength to hold on, why you will choose to stay alive and keep fighting.
Healing the Inner Child: That “Parental Repair” We All Secretly Need
It might sound a bit unusual, perhaps even a little strange, especially when both you and your carer, your loving companion, are well into adulthood. But if their tenderness, their care, their genuine affection truly helps you heal, it is very likely because – in subtle, often unconscious ways – what they are doing through their loving actions is repairing a deficit of early love. They are helping to heal that need for love and security that may not have been fully met when you were a child. They are, in a sense, “reparenting” your broken, wounded inner child.
It’s one of those timeless truths about babies and small children: they need love, real, tangible, expressed love, as much as they need food and warmth in order to develop properly. A child needs love as much as they need nourishment. They need to be cuddled, soothed, spoken and sung to, played with, held close, and looked at with genuine enthusiasm and delight by their caregivers. A child can wither inside, their spirit can dim, without such dedicated care. Every child needs to experience what experts call ‘Primary Parental Delight’ – that basic, foundational feeling that they are limitlessly wanted, cherished, and adored by the people who brought them into this world, and that their very being is capable of generating intense pleasure and joy for those caring for them.
Without this, a child might survive physically, yes, but they can never truly thrive emotionally. Their fundamental right to exist, to take up space in the world, will always feel somewhat uncertain. They will likely grow up with a pervasive sense of being somehow “too much,” a burden, disruptive, and, at their very core, unappealing and shameful. They might feel, deep down, that they don’t really matter.
These deep-seated emotions, these feelings of not mattering enough, can feed directly into a broad range of mental health challenges in adulthood – chronic anxiety, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression – so many of these difficulties have their roots in that aching sense of not having mattered enough, consistently, to anyone during those long, formative childhood years.
This, then, defines the profound challenge, and indeed the sacred task, for the loving carer in adulthood. Some of the healing work will inevitably involve making good, trying to mend, an earlier failure of emotional provision. They will need to convince that wounded inner child within the adult that what they didn’t receive decades ago – that essential nourishment of consistent, unconditional love – could still be available today. That there might still be joy, reassurance, playfulness, safety, and deep, unconditional kindness for them in the world.
It could seem highly patronizing, even insulting, to suggest to a grown adult that what they need, above all, is to be “reparented.” But, the truth is, it’s actually a sign of great maturity to recognize that the small, vulnerable version of ourselves, that inner child, must – if we’re ever to get truly better – allow ourselves another chance. A chance to experience what it could feel like to matter limitlessly, to be cherished deeply, by a kindly, thoughtful, and consistently loving companion. This isn’t about becoming a child again in a regressive way; it’s about healing the child who still lives, and often hurts, within our adult selves.
The Darkest Hours: Love That Stays Through the Night
Way back, when we were little, the night was often a time of heightened fear. We imagined monsters under the bed, strange shadows danced on the walls, and the fear of being alone in the dark was very real. And that was when we especially needed love, reassurance, a comforting presence to make us feel safe. The same will often be true, sometimes with even greater intensity, during our periods of acute mental illness. The night can become terrifying. It can stretch out like a vast, dark, threatening space in which our worst fears, our most critical inner voices, our deepest anxieties, can feel like they have unlimited, terrifying power over us. The night can feel endless and incredibly frightening.
During these torturous hours, we desperately need someone who can help us get through. Perhaps by simply staying awake next to us, offering a quiet, steady presence in the darkness. Or by sleeping in an adjoining bed or room, just the knowledge that they are close by can be a comfort. Or, crucially, by giving us explicit permission to call them, to reach out, whenever the panic descends, even if it’s at 2 or 3 AM.
We will know we are properly, truly loved when we can wake up at 3:30 AM, heart pounding, mind filled with terror, and have the right, the absolute freedom, no longer to be completely alone with those racing thoughts and overwhelming fears. Knowing there’s someone you can reach out to in those dark moments, someone who will answer, someone whose calm voice can be an anchor in that internal storm – that, my sister, is a lifeline. That is love in action, precisely when it matters most.
So, Where’s the Disconnect? Why Do We Struggle with This Love Thing?
So, it turns out, we perhaps shouldn’t be so surprised at the enormous levels of mental illness we see all around us, here in our communities and everywhere. The source material I read put it very bluntly: “we need only get clear how bad we collectively are at love.” It suggests we are often poor at genuinely offering sympathy, at truly listening without jumping to conclusions or offering unsolicited advice, at providing consistent reassurance, at feeling deep compassion for another’s pain, and at forgiving – both ourselves and others. And conversely, how skilled we can be at judging, shaming, neglecting, and sometimes even hating those who are struggling. We are often too quick to judge, to shame, and to ignore others. We consider ourselves “civilized” and modern, but sometimes we display levels of empathy and love, or rather a lack of them, that are quite shocking.
Furthermore, as a society, we’ve often chosen to sidestep the emotional core of mental suffering. We’ve largely handed over the responsibility for mental illness to the scientists, the doctors, the psychiatrists, almost as if we believe that pills alone can provide a complete solution for everything. We often ignore the profound truth that the cure, or at least a massive part of it, lies in the emotional realm: in all of us getting better at soothing each other’s fears, at being more generous and understanding about our human failings and mistakes, at no longer tormenting and mistreating one another for our struggles, and at simply being willing to sit together, in solidarity and compassion, through the darkness, in a spirit of infinite care and patient understanding.
At the End of the Day, My Sister: Love is the Foundation
So, at the end of it all, what’s the main message for us, as sisters, as women, as human beings? It’s this: love, in its deepest, most patient, most unconditional forms, is not just a “nice-to-have” accessory in life. It’s not just for romantic movies or sentimental songs. It is the very foundation upon which mental healing and sustained emotional wellbeing are built.
This doesn’t mean that professional help, like therapy or medication, aren’t important – they are often absolutely crucial and life-saving. But even they tend to work best when they are supported and surrounded by an environment of genuine, healing, human love.
Let’s try, my dear sister, to be better at giving this kind of deep, supportive love – to our friends, our family members, our partners, our children, and yes, very importantly, even to ourselves. And let’s also try to be brave enough to recognize when we are the ones who need it, and to open ourselves up to receiving it, without shame, without feeling like we are being a burden. We all need to love and be loved.
When our minds are in turmoil, when the world feels like a scary and hostile place, it is this love – patient, non-judgmental, loyal, reassuring, and unconditional – that can be the gentle hand that guides us back to ourselves, back to hope, back to life. Let’s hold each other’s hands through it all. Let’s strive to be that source of love for each other. Because truly, in so many ways that matter, love is everything.
