BEL MOONEY: What’s the purpose to life when on daily basis I want I used to be useless?

Dear Bel,

I’m totally stuck. My grief is never-ending and every day I wish I was dead. I live with chronic pain day and night. My mother died two years ago; we were so close and I miss her every minute.

My only family is my sister — older and self-centred. She’s not prepared to help me with anything unless I pay her, which I have done in the past. In fact, I’m now in debt because of having to bail her out of a ­situation too complicated to describe here.

Suffice to say, I mourn my mother and just can’t move on. Nor can I forgive my sister for terrible wrongs she has committed.

My physical needs are increasing and she doesn’t care; I don’t see or hear from her from month to month, yet she lives a two-minute walk away. I’m only here for when she is having a crisis or needs something (like money).

I do have friends but they have families of their own and are busy. So there’s absolutely no point to this life. I’m 50 and can no longer work. In fact, there’s very little I can do these days except think. And that makes it worse.

I’m afraid of falling, and walking isn’t great, so I need someone with me when I go out. Therefore, I’m hardly ever out.

I don’t want to sound sorry for myself but I’ve had enough of this life. There’s no point any more. I read your column every week and respect your views very much. What do you think?

LINDA

Bel Mooney replies: Thank you for your respect, although it is heart-­breaking to read of your grief, ­disillusion and despair – all expressed so succinctly.

You don’t tell me why you have chronic pain or what treatment you are receiving, or whether your mother lived with you until her death, or whether your ­ sister was attentive to your late mother.

I wish I knew those things, but never mind . . . I’ll try to work with what I have, and since you are a regular reader you can probably guess that I shall try ­positivity. Even though I acknowledge how hard that is.

It’s no surprise that you still mourn your beloved mother, and I’m guessing you don’t actually want to ‘move on’.

Grief can offer strange comfort: a ­certainty to rest on when the rest of life seems hopeless. But it does shift and change, you know, and the morning may come when you look out of the window, notice the blue of the sky, take a deep breath and feel the spirit of your loved one urging you towards life. And it’s important to allow that to happen.

Of course, it will be much harder for you because of your closeness to your mother and because you live with chronic pain; nevertheless, I just ask you to be alive to the possibility that grief and despair can change.

I wonder what caused your sister to be as she is. Was she jealous of your ­closeness to your mother?

It shocks me that she should expect payment for anything she might have done on your behalf.

I’m certainly not going to urge you to forgive her, but I will ask you to stop expecting her to be different. The more you expect from her, the more you will be wounded afresh.

We now reach your point about friends. You’ve persuaded yourself that you ­cannot rely on them because ‘they have families of their own and are busy’. But how do you know for a fact that negative statement is true?

I suggest your intense grief for your mother and anger at your sister have both caused you to withdraw. One of the most generous things we can do for others is allow them to know that we need them, care about them and are glad of their company. I think you should do this as soon as possible. You’re stuck, so need to get out of the house.

One of these friends would surely be happy to make it a ­regular outing. I understand about mobility issues and fear of falling, so ­suggest you equip ­yourself with a set of Nordic Poles for balance.

They’re a godsend for walkers and, if anything, make you look athletic. Think of them as an essential aid which will help you walk towards friendships, to better health and to a realisation that life, no matter how painful, is most definitely worth living.

How do we tell a friend his driving is unsafe?

Dear Bel,

We are a group who socialise and sing together every week and one of us, in his early 60s, offers lifts to others.

But his driving is dangerous; he speeds and has little control over the vehicle.

One chap who was recently in the car with him had to go to bed for two hours when he got home, and I’ve had personal experience of his erratic driving, too. He had two accidents near his home due to very ­careless parking.

This may sound humorous, but it really is not. He gives lifts to older members and — even though I fear for their safety — I realise they’d miss out on outings and events if he didn’t make the offer.

It’s been suggested the group draws lots and that person has a chat with the guy.

This would go down like a lead balloon in so many ways; nobody would want to do it and it might seem patronising to the older ­people it most affects.

His brother (who lives a distance away) does not see him very often and would be a neutral person to broach the subject. We seem to have reached an impasse — what would you suggest?

CHRIS

Bel Mooney replies: It certainly would not be ­‘humorous’ if one of your friends were to be injured in a prang.

Being a passenger in a badly driven car can be absolutely terrifying, especially if the driver talks and ­gestures all the time. This is an example of a little problem which could have big consequences.

I think getting his brother involved is a complete non-starter. So is drawing lots in order to choose the bold person who will tell it like it is. Mr Speedy will get huffy or else just bluff it out; either way, it will surely just make things worse.

And isn’t it rather ‘patronising’ to the older people in need of lifts to assume they have no views or agency on this issue?

Have you asked each what they feel? If they all say they hate the scary lifts, then the choice is either for them or for you (plural) to ­suggest an alternative. Another kind person with a car should step up, in which case the needy passenger is encouraged to tell Mr Speedy: ‘You’ve been kind to drive up to now, but honestly, you just go too fast for me.’

Go for the straightforward option.

Silence is best way to tackle a sulker!

Dear Bel

My husband and I have been married for 55 years and during that time we have been having the same issue over and over again.

I’ll say or do something to annoy him and he’ll just stop speaking to me for a day or so. Then, when he’s ‘got over’ it, he’ll just start talking to me again as if nothing has happened. He won’t tell me what the problem is and says we should just forget about it and move on.

I think it’s not fair to punish me when I don’t know what I’m being accused of (even criminals get told the crime they’ve committed). But when I say I want to know what I’ve done, he says I’m prolonging it and should just let it go.

Am I being unreasonable to want to know, or is his ­attitude better and I should just ‘let it go’?

BEA

Bel Mooney replies: How I dislike a sulker! My late father had this tendency so I know it’s no joke when the atmosphere is poisoned.

My poor mother often had right on her side but sometimes I just knew she’d been deliberately winding him up. She knew exactly which ­buttons to press. Such are the complexities of marriage — which can be one of the ­hardest tests of endurance any of us have to face.

So here’s the thing. I find it quite hard to believe that after 55 years of marriage you have no idea at all what it is you have ‘said or done to annoy him’. Can this really be true? Don’t you have even a teeny-tiny notion of what’s triggered his long face? And could it be that when you cross-examine him, you are simply giving him a ‘result’ he secretly intended? His silent treatment had an effect. Victory!

I think it’s more effective to act as though nothing has happened. After all, silence can be golden and endless post-mortems leaden. Personally, I’d just smile and chill out — because it’s all over soon enough, just like life itself.