In times of crisis, optimism can seem naive. Christian Teichmann explains why a clear vision and a strong belief in progress are essential right now – and how this mindset is part of the strategy at BPI.
It only takes a moment. A diagnosis, a phone call, a change in someone's voice. Suddenly, everything is different. The everyday worries that filled your head yesterday fade into the background. Now, there's only one thing that matters: that the person you love gets better. It’s a reality many of us face at some point — when illness, in any form, enters our lives. For Daniela and Anna, that moment came early last year.
Daniela’s partner was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Hundreds of kilometres away, Anna watched her brother slip into a depression and withdraw from the world. Two different stories — one common question:
How do you support someone you love when your own life is spiralling out of control?
Daniela and Anna both work for Burda. During Mental Health Awareness Month, they’ve decided to share what helped them cope — not as experts, but as people who’ve experienced it themselves. Their stories offer insight, empathy, and maybe even a bit of guidance for anyone walking a similar path.
Note: These reflections are based on personal experience. What worked for Daniela and Anna won’t apply to every situation, but their stories may offer ideas, encouragement, or simply a sense of not being alone.
“When I first heard the diagnosis, all I wanted to do was say something — anything — to make it better,” says Daniela. But when she arrived at the hospital, she was at a loss for words. “I just hugged him. Held space for his emotions. We cried. That was enough.”
What he didn’t need were reassurances or silver linings. What he needed was someone to sit with the pain, not erase it. “I learned to just be there. Not to jump in with solutions. To let the feelings — his and mine — exist without trying to fix them.”
Anna’s instinct was to intervene. “I wanted to shake my brother and say, ‘You need help.’ But I knew that would only push him further away.” Instead, she showed up — quietly. They rewatched their favorite shows: RuPaul’s Drag Race, Queer Eye, Gravity Falls. Sometimes they didn’t speak at all.
“Eventually, he started talking,” she says. “What helped was not pressuring him to say something, or to get better. It was just being present.” That, she says, is something many people misunderstand about depression. “You think you need to say the right thing. But that can actually make it worse. Depression drains your energy. Even basic tasks feel impossible — and that’s not laziness. It's part of the illness.”
Daniela remembers when her partner told her, “I can’t load the dishwasher.” Her first instinct was to take over. “I thought I was helping by doing everything for him,” she says. “But I realized that I was unintentionally taking away his agency.” Giving him back small tasks — like making tea or folding laundry — wasn’t about chores. It was about dignity. “Those moments helped him feel like more than just a patient.”
Anna had a similiar experience. “Of course you want to make life easier for the person you love. But sometimes, the better support is encouraging them to do something — even something small — on their own.” Her mother would take her brother along for errands, even when he didn’t want to go. “He almost always felt better afterwards. Simply taking part in day-to-day life helped.”
When illness takes over, life can feel like it’s on hold. Which is why “normal” moments matter more than ever. “I cooked us spaghetti with tomato sauce,” Anna remembers. “It’s what we loved to eat as kids. It's our comfort food. We didn’t talk about depression. We just sat next to each other and enjoyed the food.” Even in the hospital, her brother wanted to hear about her life, not his treatment.
Daniela also rexognised the power of celebrating normal life. “It reminded us both that there’s more to life than the illness,” Daniela adds. “When my partner started feeling a bit better, we visited friends. Those hours gave us strength — and a reason to keep going.”
Supporting someone else means you also need support. But many caregivers don’t realize that — until they hit their own breaking point. Daniela and Anna have both learned: Self-care isn’t selfish. It’s essential.
When someone you love is suffering, it’s easy to start blaming yourself. Anna knows the feeling. “Mental illness is invisible. You don’t always see it coming. And when someone pulls away, it’s not about you. It’s not personal — it’s part of what they’re going through.”
Daniela agrees. “You can’t be everything for someone else. And you don’t have to be.”
At some point, Daniela knew she couldn’t keep going as before. “I cut back my hours, delegated work, and told my team what was going on,” she says. “I didn’t want to pretend anymore.” The response? Empathy, not judgment. “My colleagues stepped in and gave me room to breathe. I didn’t have to carry everything alone.”
Anna also stopped hiding her feelings of being overwhelmed. “Now I can say it: I’m not okay. Just saying it out loud makes a difference. You don’t have to keep it all in.”
“You can’t stay in ‘helper mode’ forever without burning out,” Anna says. She’s learned to say no — not to others, but to protect herself. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t look after anyone else.”
For her, recharging means drawing, writing, and having quiet moments to herself. Daniela has found her balance in meditation. “Thirty minutes a day. No phone. No to-do list. Just breathing. Just me.”
“I used to think: I’m not the one who’s ill — I shouldn’t need help,” says Anna. But the stress caught up to her. She wasn’t sleeping. She barely ate. Eventually, she reached out to the Fürstenberg Institute for counseling. “That phone call changed everything,” she says. “For the first time, I was seen — not as someone supporting someone else, but as a person in my own right, dealing with my own pain.”
Her biggest lesson: You don’t have to wait until you break. You’re allowed to ask for help.
Daniela’s partner is now cancer-free. Anna’s brother is no longer in the clinic — he’s still undergoing treatment, but doing better. They’ve both made it through the hardest part. Life isn’t perfect. But it’s moving forward. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
This story was created as part of Burda’s Mental Health Awareness Month initiative. We’re proud to support this global campaign to raise awareness about mental well-being — and to help make our workplace a healthier one for everyone.
