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How I learned that by trying to avoid sadness, I was only making it worse

How I learned that by trying to avoid sadness, I was only making it worse Helen Russell © Provided by The Guardian Photograph: Print Collector/Getty Images Propped up by pillows and turned at intervals, like a pork chop on a grill, I endured a period of enforced bed rest a few years back when my world shrank to four walls. During what doctors termed a “high-risk geriatric pregnancy” I was incapacitated, developing sores on my hips and tailbone (despite the flipping) and an overwhelming melancholy. I reminded myself that this was temporary and that in the history of the world, for many people, things had been far grimmer. And then I proved it to myself by embarking on a study of the history of sadness. This was less miserable than it sounds and excellent for putting things into perspective, heightening compassion, and encouraging the groundswell of change.

How I learned that by trying to avoid sadness, I was only making it worse | Helen Russell

Bedridden, and unable to move, I realised that I had spent my life running from misery. It was time to confront it ‘Victorians embraced grief with gusto – exemplified by Queen’s Victoria’s mourning of her husband.’ Prince Albert’s funeral, 1861. Photograph: Print Collector/Getty Images ‘Victorians embraced grief with gusto – exemplified by Queen’s Victoria’s mourning of her husband.’ Prince Albert’s funeral, 1861. Photograph: Print Collector/Getty Images Sat 8 May 2021 07.00 EDT Last modified on Sat 8 May 2021 07.15 EDT Propped up by pillows and turned at intervals, like a pork chop on a grill, I endured a period of enforced bed rest a few years back when my world shrank to four walls. During what doctors termed a “high-risk geriatric pregnancy” I was incapacitated, developing sores on my hips and tailbone (despite the flipping) and an overwhelming melancholy.

Berejiklian government building a wall of woe under the cover of caring

Berejiklian government building a wall of woe under the cover of caring We’re sorry, this service is currently unavailable. Please try again later. Dismiss Elizabeth FarrellyColumnist, author, architecture critic and essayist March 13, 2021 5.30am Normal text size Advertisement It’s almost dusk and we’re eating out. Surrounded by mature elms, frog-song and the scent of cooling grass we’re on the broad veranda of Palmerston, a charming New England guest house. Our hard decision of the evening is between the seared scallops with Asian slaw and the duck dumplings. First world problems. A few steps away, though, in the dark-panelled hall, carrying the story behind the place betrays a deeper truth

Carefree fun at Norwich's Rosebery Road youth club in 1960s

They played a leading role in so many young lives but not many renovated their very own lorry to travel about in. Derek James reports