The Bridge

As a man was approaching the Golden Gate Bridge one day he saw someone standing on the railing, looking down. He raced over, but was too late to stop the suicide. Among the dead man's things he found a notebook in which the man had written that if just one person talked to him that day, he wasn't going to jump.

So the debate rages again about supports to prevent people from jumping off the bridge.

But it’s the wrong bridge, and the wrong supports. The bridge to repair, according to Harvard psychiatrists Jacqueline Olds and Richard Schwartz, authors of The Lonely American, is the bridge to other people. And physical supports, in the form of barriers, will stop some people from jumping, but many more won’t even get to that desperate point if they don’t first feel lonely and isolated.

Speaking at the Cambridge Forum, Olds and Schwartz said people are embarrassed to say they're lonely. Instead they go to the doctor looking for a diagnosis. The authors first wrote about this problem years ago, and they say it’s only gotten worse. They claim that today one out of four people has no one to talk to about important things. One out of four. Think about that at your next concert or conference, synagogue or church service. And those people are out mingling with others. What about the ones at home?

So let’s say the problem is loneliness. What then? We can’t just stamp it out. Everyone feels lonely at times. The idea that a single person or an older person might be lonely is easy to understand, but Olds and Schwartz point out that young people, married people, and people with families can feel just as isolated.

So what can we do? We can make an effort to connect.

At Cambridge Forum, Schwartz told the audience about receiving a voicemail message from a patient.

“No need to call back,” she had said. “I’m fine.”

Still, he wondered, “Should I call her?” He knew the woman had been to hell and back lately. But she said she was fine. She sounded fine.

A day or so later, she called to schedule an appointment with him. Turned out she had left that voicemail message, gotten off the phone and gone online, looking to buy a gun.

Assume it isn’t obvious. Assume your friend won’t say, “I wake up crying,” or “I have no one to talk to,” or “I feel like I’m in quicksand.”

You might hear, “Let me call you back,” or “I've got my hands full,” or “Gosh, I wish I could talk.”

And then what? First, ask "Are you okay? Do you need anything? What can I do that would help?"

Maybe your friend just needs someone to listen. So listen. Don't play therapist, and don't try to fix your friend. Just listen.

It's also fine to mention things that have helped you in hard times: a book you read, a grief support group, a good therapist. Tell your friend you understand, you've been there, and encourage your friend to get help.

Also, think of things your friend loves: a special kind of flowers, a favorite band, a certain chocolate. Send a "CARE Package" with a note: "From Your Secret Admirer." Invite your friend to lunch, or to help you pick out a gift or do some volunteer work.

If your friend doesn't want to talk, don't push it. But stay in touch. Let your friend know, "I care about you. I haven't forgotten about you. I'm with you."

©2009-2014 Laynie Tzena.