Usually they feel the stigma that's long been attached to a disability that is not visible to the naked eye. There's no bone to set, no muscle spasms to massage away, no incision to heal. The cause of the illness is often anybody's guess. Anything from a repressed past, to a chemical imbalance, a build-up of long held inner stress, or a combination of all of the above.
When I run into them or call, I feel like it's so trite to ask, "How are you?" or even, "I'm praying for you". Each person is different and reacts differently to how I might support them. Or the same person will react differently from one time to another. Saying that they're in my daily prayers meets with a positive reaction one time, and a 'look' another time. One person still believes that God is walking alongside them somehow, somewhere - while the other has given up on a God who doesn't seem to be anywhere present.
Sometimes just being present, in silence, is the best thing, although it can feel pretty awkward. Any of us who have gone through tough stuff know that having someone available is a gift. It may be good to admit that I'm at a loss to help, although we want to. Asking what we can do may be the right thing. Or just doing something practical could be the best - bring a meal, invite them out for coffee, offer to do some daily chores that are overwhelming. It all boils down to being sensitive to what we notice, who the person is, and what my heart is telling me.
And I guess that maybe sometimes feeling helpless is what life is about. As long as feeling helpless doesn't become justification to leave them all alone.
