21 Mar 2017
This past year has been tough. Amazing in a lot of ways, but also challenging.
A little over a year ago, I uprooted my life, left my beautiful and supportive community of friends and moved across the country. It was absolutely the right decision for me and much of it has been wonderful, but it’s also been hard.
It has been lonely. Exhausting. Full of grief. I have felt unsettled and ungrounded. I still feel a bit lost and uncertain about where my life is going.
I know that all of this is simply part of the process of change and creating a life in a new place. I know that as time continues and I keep showing up, I’ll create another community, make new friends, sort out my personal and professional life and things will feel better. I have no doubts that this time of feeling lost and lonely will be worth it as life continues to unfold.
But sometimes the process really sucks.
The hardest part has been being without my support system. I mean, I still have them via the phone or Skype – but it’s not quite the same as sitting down with them in person, being in their presence, and talking. Plus, I really really miss the hugs!
Some days, when things are particularly hard, I doubt my decision to move and wonder what the ever-loving hell I was thinking.
But there is one person that I have met here that helps me stay centered. She helps me ride these waves of loneliness and uncertainty and doubt until I can remember to trust the process and stay on track.
I don’t really know her all that well personally. She’s my supervisor at work.
She knows more of my story, because, well, I’m the mother of two dead children who works at a facility full of pregnant and parenting young mothers. That causes quite a bit of my personal shit to come up.
I keep trying to pinpoint exactly what it is about her or what she does that feel so supportive and helpful.
The best I can come up with is that she sits with me.
She doesn’t try to fix it. She doesn’t pretend to have magic answers. She doesn’t try to change what I’m feeling. She doesn’t really do anything in particular.
She simply listens and sits with me.
That allows me to sit with myself and whatever I happen to be feeling in that moment. It helps me to take a deep breath and remember to trust the process.
And in those moments when she sits with me, the weight of all the grief and change and uncertainty doesn’t feel quite so heavy. I don’t feel as alone or lost. I feel heard and seen and supported. She lets me be me and be wherever I am.
Sometimes, what we need isn’t a quick fix. We don’t necessarily need anything fancy or elaborate.
Sometimes we just need someone who will sit with us.
She sits with me.
It makes a world of difference.
01 Dec 2015
It’s hard to see people we love be in pain and not be able to do anything about it. We want them to feel better, to smile, to laugh, and to be okay again. Feeling better sooner rather than later would be even better.
As humans, we are problems solvers. We want to fix things, to find ways to get past problems or challenges faster and easier. We like things to be neat and orderly and fit nicely into boxes and categories.
Grief is none of those things. It’s not fixable. We can’t rush it or make to move through faster. It is anything but neat and orderly or easily categorized.
Grief is messy. Grief is painful. Grief is confusing. Grief is complex. Grief is not going to go away overnight.
I get it. I’ve been on both sides of the situation – the griever and the one sitting with the grieving.
We can feel helpless and overwhelmed and lost on either side.
So, if we can’t fix things for those we love when they are grieving or make them feel better or make the grief go away faster, how we do help?
Be there with them in it. Instead of pulling away or trying to gloss over the pain and the heartbreak, lean into it with them.
Ask them how they are doing.
Sit with them in silence.
Give them a hug or just sit beside them.
Bring them food or take care of household chores so they have one less thing to try to figure out in the heaviness and disorientation of grief.
Send them cards, texts, emails to let them know you are thinking of them.
Remember them on holidays or the anniversaries of birthdays or death days – then let them know you remember too.
Speak their loved ones names.
Tell them you miss their loved one too – or that you wish you could have known them.
However you decide to share your presence, Be Proactive.
Don’t wait for them to reach out to you.
Grief is overwhelming and too often those living with it feel burdensome or hesitant to ask for support.
Instead of waiting for them to ask for support, reach out to them and offer ways to help.
Can I get your groceries for you this week?
Do you want some company? We can do whatever you need.
How about I take care of your lawn this week so you don’t have to worry about it.
I know _______’s birthday is coming up, do you want to do anything to honor it?
Would you like to go for a walk together? We can talk or not talk, whatever you need.
Send books you have found or see that could offer comfort.
Send them notes to let you know you’re thinking of them.
If something reminds you of the one they’ve lost, send them a message telling them about it.
Do something. Reaching out, even if imperfectly, is almost always infinitely better than not. Grief can feel so very lonely and isolating. Sometimes people think they are helping by giving space or not reaching out – but that usually just increases that sense of isolation.
Also, reach out and continue to reach out even if they don’t respond or respond with no for a while. Your act of reaching out still helps. Don’t give up too soon.
Remember, support is different than fixing.
Your support helps. It comforts. It helps us know we aren’t alone. It brings a little light into the darkness.
It doesn’t fix our grief. Nothing can. Nothing save our loved one returning to us from the grave will ever fix this.
Be patient with us. This thing called grief will last far longer than either of us want. In fact, we will have grief and miss our loved one until the day we join them in whatever comes next.
This pain and this longing and this emptiness that we are feeling is a natural part of losing someone we loved so very much. The greater the love, the greater the grief.
This pain doesn’t need to be fixed – nor can it be. It does need to be acknowledged, recognized, and allowed. Chances are, you will tire of this grief long before it eases or lightens for us. So will we.
It cannot be fixed and it cannot be rushed. It must simply be felt and lived through.
Your support does make the load a little easier to bear.
At some point, it’s highly likely our grief will make you very uncomfortable. Perhaps it will bring up your fears around loss or remind you of old grief of your own. Or perhaps it will seem so foreign and unfamiliar to you that it will scare you.
Either way, please, lean into that discomfort and leave the platitudes and cliques left unsaid.
Telling us that “time heals all wounds” or “he/she is in a better place now” or “it just wasn’t meant to be” or “everything happens for a reason” or any of the thousand other well-worn platitudes does not help.
Whether any of these sayings are true or not does not matter in the least (let’s face it, truth varies widely across belief systems and people). Besides, true or not true, in the face of grief they simply aren’t helpful or useful.
They are an attempt to fix our grief and to ease your discomfort.
And if you’d said such things before, don’t worry – we’ve all said them a time or two in our lives. Even those of us most familiar with grief.
We’re human and we make mistakes. It’s more important to forgive ourselves and make a point to find other ways to handle our discomfort in the future. It never hurts for us to take a good look at why loss makes us feel so uncomfortable or afraid – if fact, if we all did, our world might be a more peaceful and loving place.
In the end, it comes down to this:
If in doubt, simply acknowledge or ask.
If you aren’t sure if what you are offering for support is helpful or not – ask.
If you aren’t sure what they might need or want from you – ask.
If you don’t know what to say – acknowledge that and just say that.
If you are afraid, as many are, that bring up their loved one will hurt them more, ask them if they want you to talk about them or say their name. (FYI, 99% of the time, they’ll say yes.)
Connection and compassion require far less than we tend to think they do.
Be proactive and reach out.
Offer support instead of fixing.
Embrace your own discomfort.
Simply acknowledge or ask.
But most of all, love. In the end, all any of us really want is to feel seen, heard, and loved.
It’s as simple as that.