Well, if you couldn't tell from the title, I'm feeling more than a little cranky. I'm telling you, getting old ain't for sissies. Now that I've got that out of my system... What really prompted this post is not the fact that I'm aging (and it would seem poorly, at that). It's that there is a lot of pain in the world and a lot of pain happening for a lot of people I know here. My heart is heavy and breaks for them. It's one of those things that you know if you could do something... anything... to relieve the suffering of a friend you would but there is simply nothing that can be done except to be present and listen. And that is something that can be a struggle for me (and I'm guessing some of you, too). The pain being experienced around me is everything from grief to sickness to loss to growing pains. It is truly important to say here that just because someone is experiencing a different pain it in no way diminishes your own. All too often I hear people say: "Yes, this is hard... but I try not to feel bad/talk about it because I know so many people have it so much worse." Ok, that is probably true, but that does not change the fact that this painful situation is your reality right now and you have absolutely no reason to hide it, deny it, or apologize for it. You are allowed to be sad and to hurt if something happens. It doesn't have to be the worst pain that was ever felt in the world in order to matter. You matter therefore your pain matters. I do have to add possibly one of my favorite things having said that you matter... I'm not even a science person and that makes me giggle. Anyways... back from that tangent. Pain. It really does seem to be everywhere. Something I read once said: "Don't just see the reaction, see the pain behind it." Basically, it is along the lines of the theory that behind every person who hurts others is a person who has been hurt. When people are in pain we do some of the darnedest things. We may lash out. It might be that if we hurt we want everyone around us to feel some of that pain, too. Because pain is lonely and we generally don't like to feel lonely. Or we may withdraw. Perhaps it is just too much and we don't want to have to keep answering the question: "Are you ok?" or "What's wrong?" This can be especially true when you can't quite put a finger on why you don't feel right, you just don't. Saying that can sometimes result in quizzical glances that can feel heavy with judgment. Or you might just plaster a smile on your face, say everything is fine, but those who know you can see the lines of stress around your eyes and around your smile. It's hard to force a smile to reach your eyes when you're in pain. Regardless, this world is hurting. I see it all the time on social media. Posts that are derogatory, which we know is not going to change one single thing, are shared repeatedly. People spend exorbitant amounts of time debating some topic on Facebook and both parties are just going to walk away feeling righteously indignant and as though they "won" the argument. (Let me just tell you, no one "wins" on a Facebook argument... we ALL lose.") How, then, can we respond to the pain a friend is experiencing? One common way I see happen that really isn't super helpful to the person in pain but really helps the comforter feel better is to play "magic fixer." This is where you try to "solve" the other person's problem, even if it's not something necessarily "fixable." Typical responses tend to be: "Well, maybe if you..." or "Don't worry, it will get better" or "the pain gets less, I swear." They are characterized by the feeling that if you can just 'fix' it or the person the pain disappears. The reasons this approach is often unhelpful are: 1) A lot of times there isn't a way to "fix" the problem. It's an issue that cannot easily be resolved. 2) More than likely your "solution" or quick-fix has either been tried or dismissed as not effective. So, unless the person you're talking with says: "Hey... I've got this problem, can you help me figure something out?" Offering solutions is not going to ease the pain. My husband is notorious for this. It got to the point where I had to learn to preface statements with: "I don't want you to try and fix this..." He appreciates the heads up and cue for what to do and it saves me the frustration of having to nix or shoot down unrequested "fixes." If it is unclear to you as to whether or not the person would like your help trying to fix the situation the best course of action is just to ask: "Would you like me to help you think through some possible solutions?" or "Would it help to try to talk through different avenues?" More than likely what your friend/partner/spouse/child is looking for when they come to you hurting is not a list of possible solutions, but rather just someone to listen. Not to listen with the intention of responding with a solution. But just to really hear what they are saying and to acknowledge their pain. It's truly a holy space when someone chooses to share in this way because it is an indicator of trust in you that you will hold their pain without belittling/dismissing them or trying to turn them into a project. This is also incredibly difficult as I mentioned earlier. Because most of us have been taught to listen with the intention to formulate a well-crafted response. Pain isn't rational. Pain does not expect nor need a well-crafted response. Pain demands to be felt. And sometimes that pain can be too much for one person to endure and so they seek out someone they trust to share their suffering and hopefully find a partner in shouldering this burden to make it even just a fraction lighter. Why is this hard? Most people do not like to see others in pain, especially those for whom we care. Our natural instinct becomes to try and get rid of what is causing the pain regardless of it is actually something that can be gotten rid of. In essence, then, we are fighting against our natural impulse to fix and instead, choosing to enter into the pain with the other person and just being. Acknowledging to them that, yes, this does indeed suck, and it is painful, and that their feelings aren't completely out of whack. It's providing a space to be angry, upset, and hurt without fear of judgment or repercussions. There aren't a lot of places that it is socially acceptable to just completely break down and react with whatever primal feeling is within you. To find that kind of space in a trusted person is like finding gold. It's something to be treasured and held dear. David is often that space for me. The space where I can go and yell or scream or cry about how unfair it all is, how much it hurts, and how I don't want this to be my reality without having to backtrack and explain or make excuses or apologies. He gives me the safe space in my life to just finally breathe. When I saw my therapist the other day, one of the first things out of my mouth was "I feel like I can't breathe. It's like I can't take a deep breath or everything is going to fall apart and hurt so much." In the midst of painful situations or difficult times we might hold our breath - figuratively or literally - just trying to power through. Yet, unfortunately, it can happen that you get through that first awful thing and find yourself walking right into another one. If this happens enough times in a row you haven't had the chance to stop and take that deep breath that will clear your mind and let you think rationally. This is why it's so important to have that person or people in your life who can be your breathing space. And it's why it's so important that we learn and practice the art of simply being with one another. Because you have no idea how long it's been since the other person has been able to take a deep breath. Well, I guess what I want to boil this all down to is to ask you to walk gently with anyone you encounter. You have no idea what weight, grief, sorrow or hurt they are bearing. Live gently. Leave space in your life for loved ones to breathe. And if you feel sorrow pulling you down find that safe person in your life who will just listen and provide you the room to finally breathe deeply once more.
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AuthorI've been Robyn for my whole life. I've been a wife for 10 years and a mom for 5 years. I've been a pastor for about 10 years. I'm still stumbling, but I'm still standing. Archives
April 2019
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