Recently, I was one of the speakers at a huge event in Cardiff called The Everywoman Festival.

I can’t begin to tell you how exciting and inspiring it was.

There were experts talking about a massive range of health issues and treatments. Some I’d never heard of.  

For example, I had no idea that some physiotherapists specialise entirely in pelvic floor problems and, through exercise and other interventions, are able to improve life greatly for both men and women with bladder, bowel or even sexual problems.

This sounds really helpful to me as these are the sorts of conditions many individuals are too embarrassed to talk about or seek help for. 

I went to a presentation given by two such physios and was blown away by what they offer. as well as their enthusiasm.

And that was just one of many surprises during an intriguing day. 

What occurred to me most as I wandered around, absorbing information wherever I turned and witnessing hundreds of other women doing the same, was that we never know what burdens other people are carrying – temporarily or permanently.

And that often we too have burdens; burdens that weigh us down and maybe stop us from living life to the full. 

My main talk was on positive ageing. But I also ran a workshop on writing a journal as a means of dealing with grief. 

The attendees were mostly in their 30s and 40s. They were lovely people who gave the impression of living successful lives and being so capable and assured that at first I wondered whether they actually needed help from me at all. 

However, we all know, don’t we, that appearances are deceptive? How often have you, I wonder, smartened yourself up, and put on a smile, when inside you felt broken? It’s what we do. And these women were clearly experienced at getting on with life and hiding their sadness.  

But as we worked together, they began to let their pain show and I could see how much their losses had impacted on them. 

Grief can arise in many forms in response to life’s events – not just the death of a partner or relative, but the end of a working life, a family estrangement, having to have a pet put down, our own changing mortality, and the loss of our own existence as we have known it till then when someone close to us dies. And many of these problems were represented in the workshop. 

So, we talked together. We wrote. We talked again. We shared our writing – and our tears. The time flew by, but I think we will all remember that event for a very long time, and the women whom we met there, because of the way we jointly let down our guard and allowed our feelings to pour out. 

In fact, the session reinforced for me my own belief that it’s enormously helpful to put pen to paper when we’re experiencing difficult emotions.

It brings these feelings to the surface and that is no bad thing in a world where we are expected to make the best of our lot and just carry on. But it also emphasised for me how there was extra potency in our writing, because we were doing it together, all in one room, and each of us searching for the most appropriate words to help us make sense of sorrow.  

And that was not just true of the workshop. On reflection, the whole festival was about women sharing their stories, revealing the illnesses they were living with, asking questions, being open – often for the first time – about their problems and talking to strangers in the shape of experts, or other participants.  

Carrying burdens alone is no fun and indeed usually unproductive, because far too often the load feels so overwhelming we can’t begin to work out how to help ourselves.  

And, as the day progressed, I thought how helpful it would be if more of us plucked up courage in our own lives and in our own communities to discuss our worries, symptoms and other difficulties with people we know we can trust. 

Is this something you might want to do? I know from experience that often when we admit to something that is troubling us, the other person responds by saying: “I feel that too”, or, “It’s the same for me and I’m glad you’ve mentioned it.” It’s common, indeed, to find that when we’re struggling with a big challenge, we learn of other folk who are dealing with something similar. 

Could you find room in your life for the odd gathering with neighbours, colleagues, friends or family where you have a cup of coffee together and spare some time to talk about your anxieties, or how to increase your well-being? And also, to share much-needed kindness and support?   

How about giving this some thought?