I've never been good at hiding my state of mind from the people who are closest to me. My Dear Ones know me better than I know myself at times; there have been occasions that I didn't even realize something was wrong until a friend asked if I was okay. Conversely, I almost always sense when a friend is in an atypical mood--whether they're in pain, lonely, frustrated, angry, and all other manner of not-so-great places to be.
I'm a loyal and sympathetic friend, and as such not only am I going to inquire as to what might be affecting someone I care about, but I'm also going to offer whatever support I can and take whatever action is necessary to comfort them. There are times when my Dear Ones--much like me--just need time to themselves to sort out all the ruckus in their souls, and at times like that I just let them know that should they need me, I'll be there. Other times--again, much like me--they don't want to be left alone with the turmoil, but they don't want to burden someone else with their problems. Rationally, we all know that's what friends do for each other. However, rationality and emotions are as logical a combination as toothpaste and orange juice.
Much like an addict won't accept treatment until they are ready to confront their addiction, a person in pain is not receptive to support until they're ready to accept it. Sometimes they just need a gentle push and a little reassurance. Other times even the most delicate of nudges will cause them to become defensive and turn them into a brick wall. So how does one tell which action is appropriate?
It seems rather audacious to tell someone they're not happy. After all, I'm still getting to know myself--and will continue to do so, as it is a lifelong process. If I don't even know myself at times, what on earth gives me such an intense insight into someone else? Still, it's entirely possible to be blue--even despondent--and either not realize it or to be in denial about it. I lived that way for months...perhaps longer. I understand how difficult it can be to admit that you're unhappy, especially when there's nothing going on in your life to be particularly troubled about. However, when someone you love has a noticeable change in demeanor, personality, becomes distant, and looks like they haven't slept in weeks, what other conclusion can be drawn?
So how does one go about approaching a friend who is obviously afflicted but is either unaware of it or unwilling to admit it? The concern is not over risking the friendship; if expressing genuine concern and love for a person brings about anger and ultimately leads to the end of that friendship, then it really wasn't much of a friendship anyway. By the same token, if that genuine concern brings about accusations of self-serving motives, again, it isn't as solid a relationship as you may have previously thought.
At the end of the day, I want my Dear Ones to love themselves, to be whole within themselves, to know their infinite value as people, to believe in themselves, and above all else, to be who they are. When the people I love are in pain, it causes me pain and makes me feel utterly helpless--one of the top three things I most despise. I can only hope that each of them can see themselves as I see them--strong, intelligent, witty, amazing individuals who have enriched my life in more ways than I can ever describe, and for which I am and will always be immeasurably grateful.