Tiare Talks: How can I help someone with their mental health struggle?
Sunday, 16 November 2025
Tiare Tolks has a background as a psychologist, relationship therapist and corporate leadership coach. In her fortnightly column for the Sunday Star-Times, she addresses reader questions and shares tips for personal growth and nurturing relationships at home, in the family and around the workplace.
OPINION: I have a family member who is really down in the dumps and suffering with bad pain. Their mood has been getting worse over a couple of years, they have put on heaps of weight and have pretty much gone into hiberation. I’m really worried about their mental health but whenever I raise it, I just get snapped at to the point that I’m too scared to raise it. It’s at the point where none of us enjoy their company any more, we get frustrated with them because they don't seem to be trying to get better. Then we feel guilty. We feel we have tried everything and made so many suggestions but none of it is going in. Do you have any ideas on what else we can do?
Watching someone you love slowly disappear into a fog of pain, low mood, and distance is painful for you, too. When our every attempt to reach them is met with chilly defensiveness or stonewalling, it can feel like we’re banging on the door of a burning house while they shout from inside, “Leave me alone”.
What you describe is a heavy cocktail that often sits at the crossroads of depression, chronic pain and shame. Each feeds the other. The pain demobilises them, the inactivity reduces the sense of mastery, the weight gain can trigger a loud self critique, and the shame makes them want to crawl into a hole. By the time family members notice, they’re often in so deep that even kindness can feel intrusive.
And that’s where you find yourself between a rock and a hard place: wanting to help but feeling pushed away.
What’s below the surface
When people become trapped in that loop, their reactivity is often driven by the fact that deep down, they probably know they’ve changed. And knowing they’re “not themselves” can create a sense of humiliation or hopelessness. So when someone asks them, “Are you OK?” they may interpretate that as, “You’re not OK, and I can’t stand who you’ve become”.
That’s not what you mean, of course - but the brain can be the master of message distortion. And when shame is running the show, even gentle concern can feel like exposure or ribbing.
What's going on for you?
Feeling frustrated is a natural response when you feel you have exhausted every avenue and can’t solve the problem. I encourage you to get curious about what other emotions are running alongside the frustration - I'm imagining feelings arise that you’re helpless, powerless, scared or worried. That would make sense, because you care.
Because of the flawed messages many of us absorbed in childhood about expressing tender emotions, we’re often not so flash at speaking to that kind of very valid feeling. Chances are, your well-meaning attempts focus on their mental health or on offering help and suggestions. But these rescue-style gestures can unintentionally make your loved one feel weak or pitied.
If that sounds familiar, try ditching the helping attempts and focus instead on creating moments of connection. Step away from the mental-health talk and move towards understanding their experience.
Try “I can see your pain is making life really tough for you. I feel helpless to do anything and I miss spending time with you. What would make things feel even just a little bit easier right now?”
It’s subtle but powerful - it moves the conversation from diagnosis and disempowerment to connection.
If they snap back or shut down, you might simply say, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make things harder. You matter to me” and then step back. Such a response shows you can tolerate their prickliness without punishing or retreating - and that’s something many struggling people have lost faith in: that others can handle their pain.
Start small
In isolation, big heart-to-hearts or leaving a therapist’s number written on a sticky note are unlikely to move the dial. But when someone’s self-esteem is in the gutter, even well-meaning “solutions” can feel like further proof that they’re broken.
Love is in actions:
Offer time before advice. Suggest a walk, a movie, or to help you with a small task. People who feel useless often need to feel needed again.
Speak to their strengths. “You’ve got such a great sense of humour - I miss your cheeky smile,” can quietly remind them of parts of themselves that still exist.
Stay curious, not corrective. Instead of “Have you tried…?” try “What’s the hardest thing about your situation?” or “What’s it like for you when the pain flares?” Curiosity invites conversation. Solutions can shut it down.
Listen and reflect back the meaning of their words. “It sounds like you’re feeling powerless after trying all those things,” lands better than “You should see someone about that.”
Empathise with their emotions, not their behaviour. You might say, “I can see you’re hurting — that must be exhausting”, but avoid agreeing with the behaviour, for example, “I can see why it’s easiest to just watch TV.” And stay steady if they lash out; this keeps compassion in the room without letting hostility take over.
Validate their feelings, not their beliefs. You want to hold their emotional state, not match it. It’s an easy slip — spot the difference: “Yeah, that does sound hopeless” versus “It sounds like you feel it’s a hopeless situation.”
When we resist the urge to suggest, fix, or advise - and simply listen and reflect - we create small pockets of safety where a person might finally lower their guard. Those moments may not look like progress, but they’re often when the soil of change is quietly seeded.
You are not alone
At the risk of going deep here - if you think you are watching despair deepen, and you don’t know what to do next, I urge you to check out the many great resources at https://mentalhealth.org.nz/help/supporting-others or, if you prefer to talk to someone, you can access advice and support by calling 1737 (free, 24/7 in NZ) or in an emergency, dial 111. You don’t have to handle it alone - help is always available.
You matter too
It’s OK to admit that loving someone in a depressive spiral can be exhausting. You can care deeply about them and still need space from the mood, the energy drain, or the constant tension. It’s not abandonment; it’s oxygen.
Keep your boundaries gentle but clear. You can say, “I love you, but when you’re angry, I’m going to step away and come back later”. That keeps the door open but protects you from burning out.
And don’t beat yourself about your frustration or resentment. These emotions are often messengers trying to signal that you also need care. Instead of judging those feelings, try a little kind self-inquiry along the lines of:
What am I feeling right now and why?
What need isn’t being met — safety, appreciation, rest?
What fear might be sitting under my frustration — fear of losing them, of failing them, of becoming like them?
Getting curious will also help you shift from reacting to relating.
And make sure you’re not carrying this alone. Staying connected with your family and even checking in with a counsellor can help you offload the guilt and concern that comes with loving someone who won’t let you help.
Finally, when someone’s world shrinks, our job isn’t to force it open - it’s to walk alongside, gently reminding them that we’ve got their back while we wait at the edge of their fog.
So keep showing up - not as their fixer, but as their friend, sibling, cousin or ally. Leave the porch light on, keep the tone kind, and trust that every small gesture - a text, a coffee, a quiet moment of presence - is a thread that might one day help them find their way back.
Do you have a question or dilemma about relationships - whether they be family, workplace or romantic - or personal growth you’d like Tiare to write about? If you want to address challenges in any of your life spheres and are interested in working with Tiare, drop her a line at tiarebtolks@gmail.com or www.tiaretolks.com. Tiare is not able to respond to every email received and we won't publish your name. Information in this column is general in nature and should not be taken as individual psychotherapy advice.