Does silence speak louder than action
An interesting quote: "The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention."
Am reading How to help a grieving friend, because I know, in the past, I've made mistakes. I don't think I've focussed my own need of helping over the other's person's need to deal (fortunately), but I know I may have expressed care and concern in potentially offensive ways. I don't want to make such mistakes, since my intent is to help, not to hurt. I want to know how to be able to help. The time has come, these are not going to be isolated incidents in my life or the lives of those around me.
Reading this and related material also brought me to the realization that a friend was experiencing a bereavement type of loss last year. I hadn't understood it that way at all, even though I had attempted to help. It helps me understand it and see in perspective what I could have done better, perhaps what many around could have done (or not done) to help.
Also, this isn't just about bereavement. There are other types of losses to learn to help with some similar emotions. The loss of a job for example. Or powerfully in my case, the loss of my confidence combined with the loss of my desire to live. There were some who felt angry. Angry for feeling helpless, or angry at the irresponsibility of my suicidal thoughts. I was working too hard at simply staying afloat, leave alone cry for help or being able to identify what may help me. Through my own pains I am learning to recognize the pain of others. People may not always be able to ask for help, or know how they need help. It is up to me to find out. In the same manner, as I read, I realize through the experiences of others, how to help. And how to help beyond my own need and desire to help.
There isn't much that is right. Especially over the phone, or from a distance, anything one does has the potential of being devastatingly wrong, even if it may turn out to be right later. The only thing to do is actually to not do, but to "be" and to keep looking for ways to reach out. And "being" cannot occur easily nor satisfactorily from far away.
One thing to "do" is to risk myself. By looking for ways to help and attempting to do so, I "risk" it being not only wrong, but I risk that it may hurt the person I am trying to help. Last year, something made me unwilling to take on this risk in a particular situation. The risk was very high, and yet, against my own aversion to the risk, I tried.
Here are somethings I found revealing from the book and other readings:
ACCEPT YOUR ROLE IN MY LIFE
Don't designate yourself as the One
whom I spill my guts to
And don't be offended if you aren't
the person I choose
Just accept where I am.
Quietly.
FIND ANOTHER COUNSELLOR:
It really really hurts me
To hear you complain about your family
I'd kill to have my family be whole again
Go whine to someone else.
CARDS not EMAILS
I enjoy cards.
I can read them in private
And feel.
I don't need to come up with a response
Immediately.
FEEL & HURT
Don't tell me that time will heal me
I need to hurt right now.
Don't say, "I know how you feel".
You don't. You cannot.
Say instead, "That must be hard to accept"
Or, "I wish I could help take away the pain"
And don't tell me how I should feel
Let me tell you when I'm ready.
Don't ask me, "How are you?"
Don't tell me how quickly time has passed... for you.
Don't ask if things are back to normal.
I have lost my concept of normal.
Don't look for perspective too soon
Your need to move on may hurt me.
Don't send me flowers too soon.
I have not yet accepted the finality
Or the permanence of my loss.
WHAT TO DO:
Be specific in offering help.
Think of what needs to be done
And then go do it.
These are specific things.
Taxes, shovelling the snow off the sidewalk, childcare.
But be aware that my needs and your needs are distinct.
Remember important dates.
Anniversaries, birthdays, special ocassions
Remember the death day.
I cannot forget it, and you cannot make it any better
But comfort me
By telling me that you also remember
If I want to talk about the good things,
Or if I don't want to talk about my void, my loss
Listen to my cue.
Accept my new quirks.
I may never be "me" again.
Accept the new things I may try or do.
Accept "no" for an answer.
We don't feel like a family
So don't invite us to any formal family outings
Just include us in your plans but be ready to accept a "no"
It's exhausting for me to conceal my loss
So as not to impose on others.
It's not that I don't like you, or am not grateful
It's just that I'm tired.
In death, and in understanding loss and grief, there is always a new perspective on life. In reading about the huge void and separation that a person feels on the loss of a spouse, it reminds me to never take my relationship for granted. I want to love and cherish the husband more intensely. To relish every waking and every sleeping moment. To know, to honor and to feel the fear of losing him. It seems that every hour of this weekend has felt that way. Every minute of togetherness seems glorious.
I think of the upcoming wedding and the planning that friends J&C are in the midst of. They seem to cherish the idea of their separateness. They are choosing a Khalil Gibran reading to illustrate their togetherness without losing their individuality. I wonder if they would feel the same way towards the piece if they were to read the things I am reading. The potential pain of separation brings the poignancy of togetherness to light.
One of the things I read while sitting on the floor of the aisle browsing the entire section was this,
"If someone cries in my presence, I consider it a gift".
To those of you have honored me thus, I hope I have supported you in the manner that you need. My gratitude and admiration to those who have accepted my offering of help without judgement, and who have allowed me to help.
The need for connection increases in having to face the finality of a loss of connection. I ask forgiveness of those who have suffered a loss whom I have not supported with sensitivity.
Am reading How to help a grieving friend, because I know, in the past, I've made mistakes. I don't think I've focussed my own need of helping over the other's person's need to deal (fortunately), but I know I may have expressed care and concern in potentially offensive ways. I don't want to make such mistakes, since my intent is to help, not to hurt. I want to know how to be able to help. The time has come, these are not going to be isolated incidents in my life or the lives of those around me.
Reading this and related material also brought me to the realization that a friend was experiencing a bereavement type of loss last year. I hadn't understood it that way at all, even though I had attempted to help. It helps me understand it and see in perspective what I could have done better, perhaps what many around could have done (or not done) to help.
Also, this isn't just about bereavement. There are other types of losses to learn to help with some similar emotions. The loss of a job for example. Or powerfully in my case, the loss of my confidence combined with the loss of my desire to live. There were some who felt angry. Angry for feeling helpless, or angry at the irresponsibility of my suicidal thoughts. I was working too hard at simply staying afloat, leave alone cry for help or being able to identify what may help me. Through my own pains I am learning to recognize the pain of others. People may not always be able to ask for help, or know how they need help. It is up to me to find out. In the same manner, as I read, I realize through the experiences of others, how to help. And how to help beyond my own need and desire to help.
There isn't much that is right. Especially over the phone, or from a distance, anything one does has the potential of being devastatingly wrong, even if it may turn out to be right later. The only thing to do is actually to not do, but to "be" and to keep looking for ways to reach out. And "being" cannot occur easily nor satisfactorily from far away.
One thing to "do" is to risk myself. By looking for ways to help and attempting to do so, I "risk" it being not only wrong, but I risk that it may hurt the person I am trying to help. Last year, something made me unwilling to take on this risk in a particular situation. The risk was very high, and yet, against my own aversion to the risk, I tried.
Here are somethings I found revealing from the book and other readings:
ACCEPT YOUR ROLE IN MY LIFE
Don't designate yourself as the One
whom I spill my guts to
And don't be offended if you aren't
the person I choose
Just accept where I am.
Quietly.
FIND ANOTHER COUNSELLOR:
It really really hurts me
To hear you complain about your family
I'd kill to have my family be whole again
Go whine to someone else.
CARDS not EMAILS
I enjoy cards.
I can read them in private
And feel.
I don't need to come up with a response
Immediately.
FEEL & HURT
Don't tell me that time will heal me
I need to hurt right now.
Don't say, "I know how you feel".
You don't. You cannot.
Say instead, "That must be hard to accept"
Or, "I wish I could help take away the pain"
And don't tell me how I should feel
Let me tell you when I'm ready.
Don't ask me, "How are you?"
Don't tell me how quickly time has passed... for you.
Don't ask if things are back to normal.
I have lost my concept of normal.
Don't look for perspective too soon
Your need to move on may hurt me.
Don't send me flowers too soon.
I have not yet accepted the finality
Or the permanence of my loss.
WHAT TO DO:
Be specific in offering help.
Think of what needs to be done
And then go do it.
These are specific things.
Taxes, shovelling the snow off the sidewalk, childcare.
But be aware that my needs and your needs are distinct.
Remember important dates.
Anniversaries, birthdays, special ocassions
Remember the death day.
I cannot forget it, and you cannot make it any better
But comfort me
By telling me that you also remember
If I want to talk about the good things,
Or if I don't want to talk about my void, my loss
Listen to my cue.
Accept my new quirks.
I may never be "me" again.
Accept the new things I may try or do.
Accept "no" for an answer.
We don't feel like a family
So don't invite us to any formal family outings
Just include us in your plans but be ready to accept a "no"
It's exhausting for me to conceal my loss
So as not to impose on others.
It's not that I don't like you, or am not grateful
It's just that I'm tired.
In death, and in understanding loss and grief, there is always a new perspective on life. In reading about the huge void and separation that a person feels on the loss of a spouse, it reminds me to never take my relationship for granted. I want to love and cherish the husband more intensely. To relish every waking and every sleeping moment. To know, to honor and to feel the fear of losing him. It seems that every hour of this weekend has felt that way. Every minute of togetherness seems glorious.
I think of the upcoming wedding and the planning that friends J&C are in the midst of. They seem to cherish the idea of their separateness. They are choosing a Khalil Gibran reading to illustrate their togetherness without losing their individuality. I wonder if they would feel the same way towards the piece if they were to read the things I am reading. The potential pain of separation brings the poignancy of togetherness to light.
One of the things I read while sitting on the floor of the aisle browsing the entire section was this,
"If someone cries in my presence, I consider it a gift".
To those of you have honored me thus, I hope I have supported you in the manner that you need. My gratitude and admiration to those who have accepted my offering of help without judgement, and who have allowed me to help.
The need for connection increases in having to face the finality of a loss of connection. I ask forgiveness of those who have suffered a loss whom I have not supported with sensitivity.