how to have a very real problem

a user and supporter's guide

I recently had a long catch-up with a childhood girlfriend who, like me, is grappling with a Very Real Problem. When I say real, I mean real real. It’s a problem that started with a devastating tragedy involving her much younger sister, a teenager who suffers from complex mental health and addiction issues. The very real problem poses both a threat to her sister’s freedom and health as well as my girlfriend’s financial stability and livelihood. It’s a catastrophe, a worst-case scenario, a nightmare that, for months, has consumed most of her waking life, and it is not going to be resolved anytime soon.

It’s hard to describe what it feels like to live with a Very Real Problem if you are lucky enough not to have experienced it, but I will try: Have you ever had something bad happen and in the aftermath, woken up one morning feeling fine, then suddenly remembered… oh no. Do you know the feeling I mean? It’s the heart-sinking realization that all is not right, you have a problem, a hurt, and you are going to be forced to suffer and deal with it again today just like you did yesterday and you will also be dealing with it tomorrow and the day after that. Most of us have experienced this feeling and I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s no fun.

Now imagine having that feeling every morning for months or even years on end. Imagine the problem in question is not something so simple as a lost job or a bad breakup but a problem more complicated and serious, a situation that is constantly changing and over which you have very limited control. Then imagine the tangential effects of that problem are hurting you and the people you love, every minute of every day, in real-time and there is nothing, not a single thing, you can do to staunch the bleeding or heal the wound. Imagine not being able to plan ahead or even just idly daydream about the future (pleasure, love, joy!) without knowing you are being a complete and utter fantasist. Imagine that your only real job for the foreseeable future is to somehow set about solving your unsolvable problem in the impossible hope you can return to some semblance of your imperfectly normal life as it once was.

This is what a Very Real Problem feels like.

I know this because I have had one — a big one —and for the past couple of years it has consumed me. While I would not wish a VRP on anyone, the one upside of is that it does provide clarity and perspective. You learn stuff, and much of it is useful and important.

The first thing you realize quite quickly is that most of the problems we think of as problems aren’t actually problems at all.

The second thing is that VRPs tend to fall into roughly three types:

1) very serious, painful and/or life-threatening health issues, 2) displacement due to war, social upheaval and/or natural disasters 3) personal catastrophes resulting in ongoing contact/dependence on state bodies, such as the police, judiciary, social care and penal systems.

My own Very Real Problem, like my girlfriend’s, falls under category three. In a way, a Category 3 VRP is the least-worst kind. VRP 3’s tend to be family matters and because of this, they can at least be dealt with privately, usually by hiring lawyers at great personal expense.

As I said to my girlfriend: “Look, at least it’s not stage four cancer or the fascists rolling in.” (I got a bleak laugh.)

Most Category 3 VRPs can eventually be solved, or at least significantly eased, with the help of money and time. By money I mean every single red cent you can beg, borrow or steal. But if you haven’t got any money and find yourself with a VRP 3, you’re more or less fucked. If you don’t believe me try asking a lawyer.

Sorting out VRP 3’s is what most lawyers do. It’s an incredibly difficult job for which lawyers justifiably get paid a great deal. The better the lawyer, the higher the cost. The problem is, the less money you have, the more likely you are to find yourself with VRP 3 in the first place. Broadly speaking, in most societies, your likelihood of having a VRP runs in inverse proportion to your household income. When people say “the system is broken” this is what they mean.

Grappling with any kind of VRP is an exhausting, expensive and profoundly lonely experience. A brutal, Sysephesian uphill slog. The third lesson you learn is that you’re better off not talking about it in public. Many people do this instinctively but for some of us, keeping silent about a situation that is consuming your life can be agonizing and unnatural. But you must.

When you have VRP, you must be kind to yourself. Having said that, self-pity is the Road to Perdition. You have only one job, one right: To remain silent. Do not struggle or fight back. The wise thing to do is conceal your despair and affect an air of quiet dignity. Fake it if you must. Cling to your self-respect like a raft in a flood! Your composure may not save you, but when you have nothing else, dignity becomes everything. Above all else, swallow your rage. Open anger will not help you. No matter how justified, it’s not a good look.

Listening to my girlfriend talk of her VRP I was overwhelmed with empathy. I railed and wept and raged on her behalf and after hearing my sad story she did the same in turn. In many ways, it was a deeply depressing conversation, but it wasn’t. Afterward, I felt more comforted and uplifted than I had in months. I took no pleasure in my old friend’s misfortune, what I felt was a deep sense of camaraderie. It was a level of openness, emotional connection and release I have not felt with another human being, including my own children (whom I need to protect), in a very, very long time.

My girlfriend and I have known each other since childhood. She is an honest broker. Hardworking and kind. A good sister, mother, partner and friend. Because of this, I know she is utterly undeserving of her VRP. When I reminded her of this obvious fact she fell silent.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Thank you for saying that.” So I said it again, and she said it to me in turn.

Before we rang off we promised to call each other if we ever needed to hear the other say it and in the coming months I am sure that we will. A mutual absolution pact. If you or someone you love has a Very Real Problem that is not of their making, here is what you can say to yourself or them:

It is possible to be accountable and honest without accepting false blame. You can be the recipient of misfortune without being its architect. Do not delude yourself into imagining that you can always control the outcome. If you are subject to false blame, remember it is only a symptom of panic and despair. You did not make the bed you are being forced to lie down in. Lie down in it and suffer but remember it is possible to endure. Catastrophes happen. They happen all the time all over the world and have happened throughout history. Try not to extrapolate. Most people are good. The world has not gone mad. However terrible you might feel, remember you are not a terrible person.

Perfection is not the point. You are good. You are good. You are good.