If you read yesterday’s post you might be thinking, “But Alison I know the parents of a child with special needs and they are amazing and, when the child was diagnosed, I did think ‘If anyone can handle this…’ and I told them and they thanked me. So there!”
You know what? Before Christopher, I said it to another couple whose first child has Down’s Syndrome, and it was so true: they are amazing and the mother taught children with Down’s syndrome, as had her mother before her, I mean seriously, this woman had training and experience. If there was anyone who could handle a child with challenges…but when it was said to me, over and over again it wasn’t a comfort, it just felt like pressure.
This is what we need to ask ourselves before we speak to someone going through something: what are we really trying to say?
“I have so much respect for you.”
“You’re a wonderful mother.”
“I admire you.”
Back up. What we need to ask ourselves first: does anything need to be said at all?
I’m here to tell you, most cases, it doesn’t.
What do you think?
All of us can use encouragement at one time or another. If it’s someone you don’t know intimately, it’s hard to know how to give encouragement so that it won’t be taken amiss. We struggled with infertility for a number of years. Lots of friends and family meant well…but their words to us didn’t always mean what they hoped it would. They tried because they knew we were struggling. I would have been disappointed had they not even tried to encourage us.
Re-reading this, I realize that I didn’t go far enough. I had something else I wanted to say but decided to tackle it later. It has mostly to do with the WHY of what we say to each other. My assertion is that a lot of what we say to “comfort” the ones suffering is actually being said to bridge the discomfort we feel that this suffering can occur and our visceral fear that it might happen to us.
Does that make sense?
I’m not talking about close friends and family, those we know are hurting for us, their hearts breaking with ours. I’m talking more about acquaintances.
And especially in the facebook age where we have the capability to blithely respond to deep suffering.
What I was going to get to was that NOT MUCH needs to be said to convey our concern and compassion. “I’m so sorry” can really go a long way.
So I need to clarify this.
Jeremy, thank you so much for responding. I want to have a conversation about this and learn and grow.
Alison, both your original post, and your response make sense to me.
Some of the least helpful responses came from our own family members. In part, it was that we probably expected too much understanding from them. In part, no one can hurt you like your own family.
When we’re witness to a tragedy, and in the presence of some one who is grieving, it is socially awkward. The desire to smooth over the social awkwardness is what is so galling to those who are grieving, I think. Much better to say, “we love you and are thinking of you,” and leave it at that.
With regard to the digital age and social media, I heard a talk yesterday that said, in effect, that social media is a way to keep others at a distance so that their relationship to us won’t bother us too much. In other words, it’s a way to minimize intimacy. A good, old-fashioned phone call has so much more capacity for relationship and intimacy than email or facebook posts.
I really appreciate you taking the time to write, both times, Jeremy. What I’m getting to is that we never have to solve things for people, and usually when we try, it’s not really about the person in pain, but us, and it rarely works.
I definitely agree about social media. It has its purposes. I had a fun and rollicking conversation with a bunch of cousins, my sister and an aunt a couple days ago that was really a celebration of our nutty family that is, and always has been, scattered across the country, but there was already intimacy there.
I really get the awkwardness you’re talking about too. There is a tension in suffering and, if you really want to love, you enter into it and sit with the sufferer there. Too often, the platitudes are an escape hatch for those of us on the outside.
In the coming weeks, I’m going to be asking questions about various situations and I would value your input when I come around to infertility specifically, and any other else, really. 🙂