It’s hard to see someone you love hurting. My first instincts are to fuss, trying to make everything as easy as possible, but when you’re dealing with mental illness, you may as well be a butterfly fluttering against a concrete wall.
I have to remind myself that more often than not, the best help I can give is to sit, and be quiet, and provide pats, as the people I love have done for me. We can’t solve the problem of someone being unwell. We can’t fix their brains or make them better. But we can be a presence.
How that looks is different for everybody. Me and mine, we do well with passive physical contact and light patting. Pat pat pat.