Deborah Hill Cone: Unload that trauma - then carry on

There is a plain old park bench outside the ferry terminal in Devonport. Someone has carefully covered it with a chintz-y bedspread and an embroidered cushion with the word "Enjoy". I like this. See, this is the unrecognised downside of grieving. Say goodbye to any last remnants of coolness and cynicism - horrors, you start finding gestures of kindness genuinely moving. I even feel grateful when other runners smile at me when I am out getting my dose of endorphins.

I know this sounds repulsively like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. But we all need small signals or tsotchkes that remind us to keep calm and carry on. Yes, even those ubiquitous red Britain during the Blitz knock-off signs. Sort of "70 Proof Absinthe for the Soul".

They can come from all over the place. I got a lot of feedback on my column last week on dealing with personal trauma. An anonymous writer said. "I went through this and I am an airline pilot ... The 'shrinks' tell you that you need to compartmentalise your problems; walk into work and close the 'door' on your shambles of a life. Much harder to do than say. However the airlines are very good when it comes to calling in and saying we won't be flying today. We are allowed to say that we are 'unfit to fly' and no further questions or explanations are required. This statement can mean we are physically sick or simply just not in the right frame of mind to be flying an aircraft."

Sometimes I just feel "unfit to fly" too. The psychologist Sara Chatwin wrote me to say feeling bitter and cheesed off is negative and unattractive and has the effect of driving people away from you at a time when you often need positive people around you. Cheers for that. Hattie said I was kickarse. Anna suggested baking a spicy apple cake. John recommended re-reading The Velveteen Rabbit. "What is real?" asked the rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" "Real isn't how you are made," said the skin horse. "It's a thing that happens to you." Another reader said: "As someone who had his heart broken recently and whose bosses witnessed me crying and an absolute mess in the workplace - thank you for today's column."

Simon said: "I think that people who have not been through suffering almost always do not 'get it'. I would hazard a guess that you are probably finding that you now inhabit a new dimension only loosely connected to the world you inhabited before. It's very weird, and almost impossible to explain to other people." Yes. I also got an invitation from a swingers club - er, thanks guys. Well, nice to be asked.

But the biggest pick-me-up I got this week was being shown around an entrepreneur's Mt Wellington factory. Yes Victoria, we really do still have manufacturers in this country. The business owner proudly introduced me to his first and second staff members who had been with him since he started the enterprise in his garage years ago. There were people who he had to force to take a break because they would work 13 hours non-stop. "Too busy. Orders to fill." There were some workers who were taken on in a scheme to help people with mental health problems get back in the workforce. One of them had taken two years to get the courage to take the bus.

Perhaps those university students whingeing about having to pass their courses should visit here too. It was real.

dhc@deborahhillcone.com