Greiving is a hideously inexact science, but it is generally accepted that there are four main stages (Shock, Acceptance, Adjusting and Letting Go). We work through these stages in our own time and in our own way.
But some deaths complicate the grieving process. Unnatural deaths do this, such as murder or accidents. Or deaths where there is lack of closure or proof, such as service personnel missing in action. Gareth’s family and friends are to some extent now in limbo. Their pain is added to by the not knowing. And in the week of the anniversary of the disappearance of Madeleine McCann, her parents too are caught in that agonising limbo of wanting to believe, of not wanting to let go.

Which is better? To be told the horror and start to move on? Or to stay in the unknown, hoping for the best? Our hearts go out to such people forced to experience that choice.

Intensity of a different kind can be seen on our screens on Sunday evenings in Homeland, a spy drama featuring Claire Danes as a bi-polar CIA operative for Homeland Security. In a promotional clip on You Tube, Claire talks briefly about the way the bi-polar condition needs monitoring but also how it gives her character an intensity to dedicate so much to her job.

Is intensity a good thing or not? Is it just ‘extremeism’ under another name? Or does it mean it focus? Committment? What in our daily lives could we do better if we just threw ourselves into the task – ironing, homework, relationships, politics, hobbies, work project, cooking supper?

Choose one task today and give it your all. No intrusions, no slacking, no Twitter (!). And at the end of the day, see how differently you feel about giving that task your full committment.

Last week saw the leading Congress party trounced in regional elections, which shows how well democracy thrives ina country of over one billion. But yesterday saw a lively debate on NDTV in connection with International Women’s Day. It’s easy to be cynical about this global event, but India is a country where – despite skyscrapers and technology parks, deluxe tourism and democracy – old traditions die hard. Women in many areas for example are still, once they marry, the property of their husband’s family. They lack a voice.

This clash of the old and the new is what makes India so endlessly fascinating but, as in psychotherapy, we need to pay attention to the voiceless.

But the whole idea of new year, new you got me thinking as I became aware of how many celebrity couples seemed to announce their separation either as the year closed (Katy Perry & Russell Brand), or as the new one began (Heidi Klum & Seal, Tulisa Contostavlos & Richard ‘Fazer’ Rawson, possibly Jonny Depp & Vanessa Paradis). Certainly, psychotherapists often see a spike in enquiries in January. So what is it about this month?

Even though I love the crisp mornings of January (plus the fact that lots of shops have sales…), some people loathe this month and get very down about it. Some people find the weather depressing, some dislike the contrats between January and the fextive excitement of Christmas. Some people find the prospect of a new year ahead quite daunting. And some people are so exhausted from the year before that they do something radical or dramatic. Some relationship splits can be down to similar factors. Some people might be too focussed on the negatives and want out. Other people might find the high emotion of Christmas too disturbing to the relationship. And yet others might feel energised to change their lives so radically that they kick out their partner.

Maybe a helpful new year’s resolution for all of us, not just celebrities, should be ‘Reflect’ not ‘React’.

This task is extremely hard to do, especiallly when every news bulletin leads with the crisis in the Eurozone, when unemployment figures keep rising, shops and pubs are closing down and the pre-Christmas crush on Oxford Street seems a little thinner this year. And self-confidence is a fragile thing. But slowly but surely, we should be lifting the spirits to celebrate successes, no matter how small.

You wouldn’t refuse to praise a child just because the painting they bring home from school is no Leonardo da Vinci. News pick-me-ups are vital for our ongoing well-being because they start to boost confidence levels. I was thinking of this when last Saturday, I saw new recruits being escorted around the Peter Jones department store. Hired for the festive season, no doubt. For every person taken on, that is a good news story. It makes them feel good about themselves to have been chosen. More widely, their hiring is a good news story for the department store. Which is also good for its customers and its shareholders – which means your and my pension.

But do we hear about these good news stories? Hardly. But if we did, there would be one more spike of national cheer in an otherwise apparently gloomy period. So, broadcasters and news channels, from now on, make a point of featuring a positive ‘recession’ story: a shop that has opened, jobs created (no matter how few), orders won. This will have a knock-on effect of acting as a morale booster for the nation. And the psychological implications of this will be tremendous.

Cricket does put very specific pressure on its players. It is the only team sport I know where the emphasis is perversely on your ability as an individual (the goalies in football have similar issues). The loneliness of standing at the crease is in direct contract to the fact that you are meant to be part of a team.

Sledging is also a part of elite cricket and this behavior (when the fielding side barrack the batsman) requires nerves of steel to withstand.

But above all, it is the nature of the modern game of cricket which is putting to much pressure on players and perhaps commentators alike. Modern cricket de-skills you from being an all-round cricketer, turning you instead into an opening bat, a middle-order bat, and seam bowler, or whatever it might be. And cricketers are prone to breakdowns today largely due to the amount of international cricket in the schedule. Excessive touring plays havoc with social and family relationships.

It is for this reason that this sad story about Peter Roebuck should make the ICC wake up. There is simply too much cricket being played and not enough concern about the effect on the mental health of physically fit men. Suicide is about believing you have no other way to communicate your terror or pain. Cricketers need more of a voice.

My collecting tin certainly benefitted from the feel-good vibe the morning after many Hallowe’en parties. But two young cockney Goths and a woman with 17 facial piercings also cited Afghanistan as their reason for donating. The soldiers fighting there are their generation. War has become personal, less abstract, again. Which is how I came to be pinning a poppy on a squaddie dressed as a pumpkin. He has four kids and returns to Kandahar next March.

And prospective poppy sellers take note: very few donations are planned. Lots of people think fondly of buying a poppy, but then procrastinate. For these, I relied on a big, permanent smile, and lots of noisy, come-join-the-party tin-shaking. I showed I was having fun, and people seemed to respond positively to that. They gave what they could, and I made sure I thanked them profusely, wishing them a safe onward journey.

What struck me most was that many who gave also wanted conversation. In this era of Twitter, Facebook and eBay, givers of all ages crave the added pleasure of face-to-face human contact. They wanted to tell me their stories; why they were donating; why today.

Tourists wanted to know about the cause. The man from Lagos in a cream linen suit gave 20 quid and discussed the morality of war. With a few, I swapped tales from World War Two. A Canadian told me about her father who served in North Africa with the British Army. An American’s father helped liberate Paris. My father was in a Japanese Prisoner of War camp.

Giving, especially in these economically unsettling times, makes us feel good about ourselves, feel less self-centred. Our inner child is as thrilled with a poppy as we used to be with a going-home party gift. But on Sunday, many gave money without taking a poppy. They just wanted to give. And a few simply wanted the lift/the loo/the exit and made a donation for the answer. I am now a world expert on the Victoria Line.

And in the process I’ve found out some curious facts. Two hours shaking a tin is a better work-out for my incipient bingo wings than the gym. The most smartly dressed people do not give the most money (the gentleman from Lagos excepted). It is not a myth that more men than women will give to a poppy seller wearing a short skirt. And commuters in a desperate hurry will still find time to dig out the coins deep in their pocket.

Wearing a poppy isn’t morbid. It’s not about supporting a war, or endorsing killing. It’s about acknowledging that in all our separate cultural histories there are people out there who have made bigger sacrifices than
we ever could. They sacrifice limbs, their minds, sometimes their lives. And all I’ve done is spent time jiggling my tins, flashing my smile, and being humbled. It’s the least we can all do.

This education pack is a superb idea, particularly as hopefully it will stimulate debate (among peers outside the school gate as well as in the classroom) about body issues and self-esteem.

At the same time, we must remember that the aetiology of poor self-esteem, and eating disorders or body dysmorphic disorders is extremely complex. Families must show children that love and approval isn’t simply linked to what you look like. And this means Mums not fretting about their own weight in front of the children, or studying the gossip magazines with their unhealthy obsession with celebrity weight loss or weight gain. Have debates in schools, by all means, but recognise that the seeds for poor self worth are often sown early in life.

But this slightly misses the point. Love isn’t measured in time. It doesn’t take time to be home to read a bed-time story to a child (organisation yes, time no). It doesn’t take time to boil an egg, to watch your child doing a drawing, to go for a walk, to kiss your child or give them a hug.

What the report touches on is our hideously materialistic culture. We imagine that possessing certain items makes us more valuable, they make us feel more worthy, more secure. And we pass this distorted logic onto our children.

Time, then, that we spent time thinking up ways – free ways, mind – to show the kids in our lives that we love them. That’s the challenge.

So I was watching the TV last night. And this morning I have been listening to LBC Radio and watching Sky News. Twitter (inappropriately blamed for ‘causing’ or spreading the riots), is coming into its own as it promotes hashtags to do with cleaning up part of riot-affected London (#riotcleanup). We are gripped by this story not least because we all want to know if we are likely to be safe. On some primitive level we are always focused on our survival.

And yet perversely the media attention also has the effect of highlighting the riots, which kicked off in Tottenham last Saturday. The flip side of the broadcasters’ public service remit to ensure that people know what is happening in their country is that we are imitative creatures and we learn how to function in the world by copying others. We copy mummy smiling and daddy shaving and grandma cooking and granddad painting the fence. We copy our siblings, we copy our school friends. We long to part of the group.

At the moment, the group mentality appears to be a force for bad. The downside of The Group is its herd mentality. Copy-cat rioting is on the rise this week. But the group can also be a major force for good. Parents need to take responsibilty for their children’s behaviour and model for them caution and restraint, forcing them to be indoors – for their own safety as much as anything. Only by modelling healthy control can we expect young people to develop self-control.