Take your platitudes and leave

There was an article in the NY Times yesterday about what not to say to a grieving person. It said never say, “Everything happens for a reason.” 

And that is good advice because when you say “everything happens for a reason” to a grieving person, they may want to punch you in the face. Because most people are polite, they will not punch you in the face, but don’t be surprised if you are kicked out of their inner circle of safe and trusted friends.

People said this to me shortly after Riley died. They also said this to me after Riley was born and we were told that he would need three heart surgeries to survive (though he ended up having six during his 11 years). Luckily for them, I restrained my fists. But it makes me wonder how this asinine phrase became a popular reply to grief. Please give me an example of when this has been useful. Seriously.

I imagine it comes from religion where we’re meant to put our faith in some greater power who has a master plan. And the only way we can make sense of a child’s death, or a young parent’s death or your house being swept away by a hurricane, or any other tragedy, is that it must serve some higher purpose.

But, honestly, life is random. We are powerless. And if we acknowledged this unspoken contract with the universe, we’d probably stay home more often. Because we get into metal boxes and move at high speeds on highways. We let our kids go to school. We know that people walking around are carrying guns. We know that there are contagious diseases. We live in earthquake zones or in places dubbed "Tornado Alley." We know that there are alligators and bears and bacteria that can overwhelm our immune systems. Every single day we don’t die is pretty astonishing. And getting to live another day is not because some higher power granted me the opportunity to do so because I am good or deserving. It is just luck. I think luck is too terrifying for most people to acknowledge.

So, what do you say when someone you love is faced with unimaginable tragedy? The article recommended: “I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t know how you feel, but I am here to help in any way I can.” Or something like: “I am always just a phone call away. I am here for you.” And, of course, if they are sharing with you how they are doing, validate their feelings. 

The article reminded me that I've been wanting to read Everything Happens for a Reason, and Other Lies I've Loved, by Kate Bowler.

If you are incapable of being there, of sitting with discomfort, of saying something less painful than "Everything happens for a reason," please, just take your platitudes and leave.

Grief and the ADAA

I just had a piece published on the Anxiety and Depression Association of America's website. They have a great library of personal stories that you can filter via disorder (anxiety, panic attacks, bipolar, grief, substance abuse, etc.), and I'm a huge believer in the power of connecting with others through stories. 

Over the years, I have been in individual therapy, and I've spent years in couples therapy. I spent a year in a support group for families who have children with congenital heart defects and three years in a support group for bereaved parents. (Just need to acknowledge how fortunate I am to have health insurance to cover chunks of the costs... access to this stuff should be a right, not a privilege.) And through all of it, I've learned a lot about self-care and supporting others who are struggling. 

It feels good to be reading. It feels good to be running. It feels good to be writing. It feels great to get published. Go forth and read!