10 Empowering Thoughts to Hold Onto When It’s All Falling Apart
The Elephant in the Room: How to Talk to Those Experiencing Grief
When bad things happen to good people, we’re often at a loss of how to respond and what to say. The loss becomes the elephant in the room – too unwieldy to discuss yet too big to ignore.
Here are some thoughts on how to talk to people who are dealing with loss or tragedy:
Bringing It Up
Sometimes we hesitate to bring the subject, as though the person has forgotten that their husband has left or their family member has died. You don’t have to worry about saying something that will make them think about something that they’re not already thinking about.
When everybody refuses to acknowledge the loss, it can lead the heartbroken to believe that they are alone in their pain. The mention of it lets them know that they’re not alone in their memories and their suffering.
All that being said, be cognizant about when you bring it up. At work, the person may be doing all they can to hold their grief behind a dam of conviction. And a reminder at that point may breach that wall. Also, be mindful of their response to your words. If they change the subject or shut it down, respect their wishes. If they want to talk, listen.
If you’re the one suffering in silence, let people know if and when it is okay to bring it up. And if your friends and family cannot talk about it, perhaps it’s time to find a support group of people who can.
Speaking About Your Experiences
It’s natural for you to want to share your similar experiences. And there is quite a lot to be said about the power of “me too.” Yet be careful here not to minimize the experience of someone else by implying (or stating outright) that your situation was worse. Also refrain from claiming that you know exactly how they feel. Even if the circumstances are identical, the responses won’t be. Your experiences may allow you to empathize, but that’s a long way from actually being in their shoes.
If you stick your foot in your mouth by complaining about how bad traffic was on the way to their loved one’s funeral, apologize. And then forgive yourself. When we’re emotional, we often respond with nervous energy and a lack of appropriate filters.
If you’re on the other side and somebody says something ignorant to you, try to let it go. They are either trying to connect and they failed miserably or they haven’t experienced anything in the same universe as what you’re going through and they’re clueless.
Offering Platitudes
“It’s for the best.”
“God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.”
“It was meant to be.”
Just don’t. I am a huge believer in silver linings, yet there is also a hell of a lot of polishing that has to happen before you can see those. And for those in the midst of grief, there’s nothing shiny about what they’re seeing.
Often what people need more than an assurance that it will be okay is reassurance that it’s okay for them to not be okay right now.
Instead of platitude, offer condolences. Offer thoughts. Offer prayers. And offer to just listen, without judgement.
If you receive some of these platitudes, try to remember that they’re coming from a place of love. Those who care about you don’t want to see you hurt and they’re trying to reassure you (and them) that you’ll make it through.
Expecting Them To Be “Over It”
Grief does not speak calendar. They’re not going to be suddenly healed after a month. Or three. Or even a dozen. The pain of loss ebbs and flows, but it is always there like the pools left behind from an outgoing tide.
It’s unfair to expect them to be “back to normal” after a period of time. In fact, their normal may in fact be different now. Be compassionate about where they are in their pain. Accept that they have been changed by their experience and that this is not about making you feel comfortable.
If you’re experiencing people telling you that you should be “over it,” begin by asking yourself if there is any credibility to their claim. It’s easy to become stuck in grief and sometimes this is how others let us know that we need help to keep moving. If this is not the case, read this and try to refrain from punching the person.
Accepting Your Own Triggers
Loss has a strange way of bringing up all past losses. When you look at the faces at a funeral, some are crying for the life being honored on that day, some are crying at the remembrance of past losses and many are weeping for both.
Be mindful of your own triggers when helping someone else through their grief. These can be reminders about your past experiences or even triggered fears about what could happen to you in the future. This is one (of so many) reasons that losing a child is so hard – the other parents cannot bear to fathom that loss themselves and so they often create distance from the impacted family.
Be honest about what you’re feeling. If needed, get support for yourself so that you can be present for your loved one.
If you’re the one facing loss, understand that not everybody will be able to be present for you because of their own struggles. It doesn’t mean they care about you any less, it just means they are also wrestling with their own emotions.
Overall, the most important thing you can do for somebody else is to simply be there. Letting them know that they are not alone.
Live the Life You Have, Not the Life You Lost
Live the life you have, not the life you lost.
I recently re-watched the movie Stand By Me for the first time in many years. As with every exposure to one of Stephen King’s masterpieces, I was again struck by the particular insight the author has into the expanding and mysterious world of a child. As with all of my previous encounters with the story (either in book or movie form), I was drawn to the character of Gordie. He is the quieter, more introspective one of the group. He observes. He analyzes. He is both in the moment and aware of the bigger picture.
And he is also invisible.
We learn that his older brother, one of those “shining” boys that attracts the adoration of all, was killed the previous year in a car accident. The grocer doesn’t see Gordie, he only sees the brother of the one who was taken too soon. Even his parents barely acknowledge their surviving child, protecting the older brother’s shrine of a room over the needs of Gordie. We see them going through the motions of life without purpose. Nurturing the one who is gone while neglecting the one who is left.
They are living the life they lost, not the life they have.
It’s easy to do. When the loss is acute, it demands attention. It insists that it be the primary focus of every day and every breath. And in healthy grieving, the loss never fades completely, yet it no longer occupies the front seat, displacing everything else.
But sometimes grief becomes stuck. And the loss remains the number one, relegating the ones who remain to a place of invisibility and inattention.
Nurturing what was instead of what is.
It’s hard to change the future. But it’s even harder to change the past.
Live the life you have, not the life you lost.
Permission Granted
When I was a freshman in college, I spent a brief period in a grief support group. I was reeling from the deaths of over a dozen friends in the previous few years. There was a young man who had recently lost his mom to cancer and a woman whose brother was killed the previous year in a head-on collision. Three other women rounded out the group. They had all miscarried.
All of our losses, although different in degree and detail, had much in common. But there was one factor missing for the ones who had suffered the loss of their unborn child; they didn’t feel like they had the right to grieve. Either explicitly or implied, they had all received the message from people around them that theirs was not a “real” death and that their level and duration of grief should match that fact. Their grief, rather than being supported, was minimized.
Unlike the rest of us, who were deemed “faultless” in our losses, these three women had faced accusations and associated guilt that they were somehow at fault. That they were responsible for their loss. They had the added burden of a sense of culpability and a target for blame.
I ached for these women.
Their loss was real. Their pain was real.
And the fact that their pain was downplayed and finger-pointed made their grief all the more real.
A divorce is a death.
Not of a person.
But of a marriage.
It is loss of the possibilities of the future.
It is collapse of a partnership and a family.
It is the cleaving of lives and often self.
And part of what makes divorce so difficult is that it is the demise of a marriage and yet there is a stigma attached to grieving its loss. There are no wakes, where loved ones gather and offer support. There are no obituaries published to disburse the news and quiet the rumors. You garner uneasy looks in you mention how you miss your spouse, especially if he or she is playing full-on offense in the divorce. There are no established rituals for mourning a marriage (and I don’t count the uptick in the often-gaudy “divorce party” a grieving ritual). And there are certainly no memorials planned.
It is a complicated grief. The person is still alive, yet the memories are now tarnished perhaps beyond recognition. They become sort a walking dead.
There is always a questioning and doubt as to what you could have done to alter the marital course. And it is a tricky path to walk between responsibility and needless guilt.
You may feel confusion because you initiated the divorce and yet you don’t understand why you are so sad to see the end you hoped for finally arrive.
You hear statements from others like, “My divorce is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” while you’re still reeling from the loss and grieving in silence.
The loss is real. The pain is real.
And the fact that the pain was downplayed and finger-pointed makes the grief all the more real.
So hold a funeral for your marriage, a sign of acknowledging the end and a first step of letting go. Take some tangible piece of the marriage (no, not your ex!) and release it through burial or a funerary pyre.
Write a eulogy for your marriage, telling the whole story from hopeful beginning to bitter end.
Plant a memorial tree symbolizing your roots in the marriage and your limitless growth above.
Re-purpose a memento from the marriage to serve as both a memory of what was and a reminder that you can transform your future.
It’s okay to mourn your marriage.
It’s okay to grieve your loss.
Permission granted.
The Stages of An Ending
Ever since Elisabeth Kubler-Ross developed the 5 stages of grief to describe the emotions that terminal patients experience, similar stages have been used to describe loss in all its forms. These descriptions are helpful; they help to confirm that our wildly fluctuating emotions are normal and okay while also providing hope that we can progress out of a current stage.
This article from Psychology Today is one of the better descriptions of the stages after the end of a relationship that I have read. However, I experienced a couple stages that are not described.
How about you – what stages would you add?
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 