When Loss Looms Over
When you are impacted significantly by a singular event or series of experiences, you understandably see the world differently.
The person you were before is no longer the same, and the person you want to be changes. There is, of course, an unmeasurable scale in which the severity of the event or experiences impacts the person you are and who you (want to) become. The second this change hits, loss becomes a part of your life. There is a mourning process involved, in which a person grieves the loss of the person they once were, the loss of the present they thought to be, and the loss of the future self that was envisioned.
To mourn and to grieve parts of us that are no longer there, or that have shifted or forcefully changed, is an ongoing process. A person is essentially grieving a part of themselves that is gone, however, they remain alive. Values and priorities shift, life can be disrupted, and we are confronted with an array of, sometimes unanswerable, questions. Why did this happen to me? Why can’t I just go back to my old self? Why can’t I feel ‘normal’ again?
Sometimes, dark thoughts can creep in. Anxiety, depression, or negative thoughts can flood the body like a huge wave crashing at the shore. Loneliness takes over. “No one understands,” “this is awful,” “I can’t believe this is happening,” are just a few of many phrases that run through the brain. There are no words to appropriately describe the deep, intense experiences that only you understand.
It can be near impossible to imagine feeling anything close to ‘happy.’ What does it even mean to be ‘happy?’ Happiness is a concept developed by society; it is the ultimate goal that many strive for. As we move through loss and are forever changed by certain events and experiences, we sometimes ask ourselves, “how can I ever be happy again?”
Through my many years as a medical social worker and psychotherapist, I’ve found myself having these conversations with my patients, families, and clients. The concept of pure happiness is one that I’ve sat with and struggled with as I bear witness to the most vulnerable times in people’s lives. Through many conversations, readings, and experiences, I’ve come to the conclusion that striving for happiness when you’re going through something so difficult can potentially be overwhelming and triggering. I’ve shifted my own internal and external narratives to reframe the conversation around happiness to be much smaller in scale. Instead of asking others how they may find happiness or how they can “be happy,” I think about the concept of joy and how to integrate joy into grief and loss.
Happiness is a state, while joy can be experienced in little moments. Joy is a moment in time, where you may find yourself smiling, maybe laughing, or simply enjoying a bite of mashed potato when you haven’t been able to eat in days. The darkness is still there. The loss is still present. But in that loss, in those dark moments in time, there is a spark of joy that makes life worth living in that moment. There is a glimpse where it doesn’t feel like you have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s in these little moments where we find a second to breathe. Where we want nothing more than to stay in the present moment. Yes, the moment passes, but we are temporarily relieved to find that it doesn’t have to feel this dark every second of every day. That we are allowing ourselves permission to feel something other than pain. Or that we can feel something else alongside the pain. That we can have multiple parts of ourselves and contrasting emotions at the same time. That we are complex. That is okay to be this way. We’re moving through it.
As someone trying to support others experiencing difficult times, or navigating aspects of loss and grief, it can be hard to know what to say or do. We cannot possibly understand what another person is experiencing, because we are not them. We have not had the same experiences. Or maybe we have, but we’re two different people who experience and respond to similar experiences in a different way. It can cause worry to say the wrong thing.
So, what do you say or do? While there is no “one size fits all” approach to supporting someone you love and care about, here are some starting points to think about supporting someone else when you do not or cannot understand what they are going through:
Ask open ended questions and remain curious. Be gentle with your words. For example, “It seems like it has been really difficult for you going through this. What has it been like for you?”
Choose your words wisely. Avoid using statements that over-identify with the person and name their experiences for them. Instead of saying “I know it must be hard,” try “It sounds like this has been hard for you,” or “While I don’t directly understand, I’m hearing that this has been difficult for you.”
Practice self-compassion and allow yourself to make mistakes. This can be acknowledged by saying “I may not always know what to say” or “it has been difficult to find words to say” and pair that with “however, I want you to know that I am here for you and want to show up for you in ways that I can.” Acknowledging that this person is not alone even though you cannot understand fully goes a long way.
Be present. Show up for the difficult times. Show up scared and do it anyway. Be present through the difficult times. Give someone your full attention, check in on them, and show them that you are there for them. Sometimes, even just sitting together without saying anything is enough. Show someone that they do not have to suffer in silence or struggle alone.
Do you have any more guidance, tips, or insight? Please write them in the comments! I am ever evolving and learning, and every situation and person is different.