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© David Hanover/Tony Stone'Thinking hard about what might be bothering someone other than yourself is tremendously therapeutic.'
The dilemma The group of girls I consider my best friends are all having a difficult time and, instead of turning towards each other, we seem to be turning away. I care deeply about my friends, but I resent them at times. I understand that when I express my sadness it can sometimes come across as "crying wolf" because I tend to dramatise my emotions. We are a group of girls, one dumped, one sacked, one lost, one who loves unrequitedly, but we have no one to turn to in our sadness. I want to fix this, but I don't know how. I feel like I need to change my behaviour, so they will be able to confide in me.

Mariella replies I'll let you into a little secret. In my time in this agony chair I've come to realise that other people's problems are the path to personal happiness. Little did I know when I first sat down at the briefcase-sized piece of technology that was then known as a portable PC and started penning responses to Observer readers' letters what a healthy impact it was to have on my own state of mind. My dependence on my regular inbox sometimes makes me feel like a vampire, reliant for my survival on a diet of my fellow humans' misery. I'll come clean - the past few months haven't been great for me and there have been moments when sitting down to dish out advice to others from the quagmire of my own existence has felt fraudulent.

Regular readers will recall a letter a couple of weeks ago from the mother of an angry, errant 16-year-old. She wrote this week to thank me (and all of you who went online to comment) saying that she and her daughter were on a slow but steady path to reconciliation. Despite it being a particularly bleak day for yours truly, reading it couldn't have made me happier than a surprise transfer into my bank account. I actually burst into tears when I read her email. Maybe I would have been equally happy with the cash, but still...

Such euphoric moments aren't necessarily results based, though there's no question that being told you've made a positive impact on some complete stranger's life is pretty hard to beat. Being compelled to sit down and think hard about what might be bothering someone other than yourself is tremendously therapeutic, even when it fails entirely to turn into positive action. I've come to realise that far from tipping me over the edge, my inbox puts the world in perspective.

The particular satisfaction my job provides is available to all, but without the perk of observing emotional issues from an eagle's perch with an unobstructed view. Finding answers is far easier when you're emotionally unengaged and it's the most plausible reason why people still bother to communicate with the likes of me. My window to the wholly unique way in which each of us responds to often universal dilemmas offers confirmation that there is never just one side to a story or one way to view a problem.

You describe your friends by virtue of their issues and that might be the first thing to rectify. The troubles we face are not what define us but how we deal with them. It sounds as though you are reliant on a particular script, which may work for a sitcom, but not on a day-to-day basis. When life is in turmoil friends provide a safe place to sound out your problems, expand your understanding and seek advice. If you can't do that within your peer group, how on earth do you expect to thrive and survive in the everyday scrum of living?

You need to be proactive - arrange a weekly crisis group, observing the Chatham House Rule, where you can all talk frankly and offer support and possible solutions to each other. You'll be amazed how much easier it is to see a path through the jungle when you're not stuck in the thick of it. "Friends" isn't just a term for those you text, but a demanding relationship that comes with responsibilities and expectations. It would be ironic if what we've become in this era of mass communication are entirely self-serving organisms lacking compassion and time to help each other. It's definitely not what I'd call progress.