Yet More Thoughts, Less Silly
Jan. 13th, 2011 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyspritePeople say 'I'm not good at this' when it comes to grief, or loss, or dealing with bad news, as though it were a skill or a knack, or something they should have learned in school, in between square roots and diagramming sentences. The truth is, though, no one is "good" at it. It's not the same twice, or for any two people, and no one ever gets to be good at facing tragedy. That's part of what makes it tragic, and part of what keeps us human.
Some of us are trained in how to handle bad news and grief - we're born with an extra dose of empathy, or we take classes and learn - but that just teaches us how to speak to other people about it, how to listen and support and dole out comfort. It's important, it's vital, but it doesn't mean we're better at handling that news ourselves, or confronting our own emotions in those situations. I don't say this to complain, or to ask for pity or support - I say it as a kind of support in and of itself. We're all lost sometimes. We all hurt sometimes. No one person knows the true path through this forest, or the right way to handle it.
There is no one right way. Everybody grieves in their own way, and that's the way it has to be. Some people hurt, and reach out, and surround themselves with light and noise and comfort - and that's good. Some people draw in, and need quiet and peace alone with their thoughts - and that's good. Some people need to be busy, making things and fixing things, creating order to counterbalance the chaos they feel - and that's good too.
Sometimes, you need a touchstone - a pin, a string of pink Mardi Gras beads around your wrist that let you know, no matter how helpless you feel, that you did something, a scrap of paper with a note in someone's handwriting. Sometimes you need to be the touchstone for someone else, in order to feel helpful and real, and to know that there are other people in the world who are still alive, and feeling the things you feel.
And it's all okay.
And most of all, it's okay to feel like it's not okay. It's okay to fall apart a little, and to not be sure of what to do or where to go from here. Odds are someone nearby, coping in their own way next to you, will feel better for knowing that they're not the only ones falling apart, will feel better for being able to let you lean on them for a little while, and later on, when you've got your feet back under you, will need someone to lean on in turn.
Some of us are trained in how to handle bad news and grief - we're born with an extra dose of empathy, or we take classes and learn - but that just teaches us how to speak to other people about it, how to listen and support and dole out comfort. It's important, it's vital, but it doesn't mean we're better at handling that news ourselves, or confronting our own emotions in those situations. I don't say this to complain, or to ask for pity or support - I say it as a kind of support in and of itself. We're all lost sometimes. We all hurt sometimes. No one person knows the true path through this forest, or the right way to handle it.
There is no one right way. Everybody grieves in their own way, and that's the way it has to be. Some people hurt, and reach out, and surround themselves with light and noise and comfort - and that's good. Some people draw in, and need quiet and peace alone with their thoughts - and that's good. Some people need to be busy, making things and fixing things, creating order to counterbalance the chaos they feel - and that's good too.
Sometimes, you need a touchstone - a pin, a string of pink Mardi Gras beads around your wrist that let you know, no matter how helpless you feel, that you did something, a scrap of paper with a note in someone's handwriting. Sometimes you need to be the touchstone for someone else, in order to feel helpful and real, and to know that there are other people in the world who are still alive, and feeling the things you feel.
And it's all okay.
And most of all, it's okay to feel like it's not okay. It's okay to fall apart a little, and to not be sure of what to do or where to go from here. Odds are someone nearby, coping in their own way next to you, will feel better for knowing that they're not the only ones falling apart, will feel better for being able to let you lean on them for a little while, and later on, when you've got your feet back under you, will need someone to lean on in turn.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-13 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-13 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 03:20 am (UTC)That's what I am.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 08:11 pm (UTC)"There is no one right way" - that applies to every emotional and spiritual process that we can go through.
Thank you. Putting this into my Memories.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-16 04:40 pm (UTC)