Supporting Someone Who’s Struggling: The Wheeble Concept

In my work with people who are finding life heavy or over whelming, I often think of them, of all of us, as “wheebles.”
Wheebles are those little toys that wobble when you push them. They’re designed to be stable, but they still move when nudged. Just like humans.

Our nervous systems  our brains, our emotions, our bodies are designed to respond to stress. No matter how strong or “together” someone might seem, we all wobble under enough pressure. That wobble is normal. It's part of being human.

 Research suggests it only takes 8 minutes of connection to begin rebuilding safety, trust, and emotional presence. And having even one person you can connect with becomes a support ring in itself, reducing the wobble.

In my office, I use real wheebles and I sit them inside little circles made from colourful gift tape. These circles represent something powerful: the resources, relationships, coping tools, and safety nets that hold us steady.

Some people have lots of circles strong families, good therapists, financial stability, safe homes, inner confidence.
Others may only have one or two, or they may have recently lost one of those supports without knowing how much it mattered.
The more supportive "rings" we have, the easier it is to wobble and stay upright.
Without them, even small knocks can send us flying. Because the structure that held us steady isn’t there right now.

But from the outside everyone looks the same, We can not see how many resources someone has available, holding them up. All we see is the wheeble. 

When someone is struggling with their mental health, they often look okay on the outside. They're trying very hard to seem like every other wheeble around them smiling, coping, showing up.

There is a lot of effort involved in trying not to wobble when our resources fall away under the pressure.

But inside, they know they're wobbling.
They might not know why.
They might not know how to stop it.
They might not even know what kept them steady before, only that it’s missing now.

Sometimes support looks just like this: someone who’s willing to be there, even briefly, when things are unsteady.

There’s a story about two friends, based on research that says we just need 8 minutes.

One friend went through a rough time. Later, the other asked,

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help?”
“I did,” the friend replied.
“But that text you sent sounded like every other message you’ve ever sent.”
It’s a common problem nobody really knows how to start that conversation.  So the story ends with the code message agreed:

“Hey, do you have 8 minutes, just now?.”
 

It’s a gentle, clear way in. Not dramatic, But enough time to make a plan for another 8 minutes later.