"Everything Doesn't Happen For A Reason"--essay on grieving

[Dr. Richard Grossman]

Hi everybody,

Here's a wonderful article on grieving, sent to me by a patient whose son died suddenly and tragically:

Everything Doesn't Happen For A Reason

OCTOBER 20, 2015

by Tim Lawrence

http://www.timjlawrence.com/blog/2015/10/19/everything-doesnt-happen-for-a-reason

All comments are welcome...


Richard

[Hopalong]

Wow, what a shattering and liberating article.
The comments below it are just as valuable to read...so so so many voices.

Richard, the article also made me think I went too far in giving advice to Amber.

(((((((((PR))))))))), please forgive me for that if it was so for you. (Busted.)

Thanks, Doc G, for this amazing read.

love to all,
Hops

[Meh]

I wonder if grief really is a cultural taboo. I mean it definitely seems like something a person does in private. It's sort of like using the toilet.

Well he used the words bullshit and jackass in his writings. I give him points for this. Benevolent masturbation is sort of, well I don't really know what that means.

The phrase "everything happens for a reason" is dismissive in some ways.  I think people say these things because they don't know how else to respond maybe.

I think everything does happen for a reason but maybe not a good or fair reason. Or maybe tragedy is outside of the real of an organized life.

Well I could say that I didn't really understand what people went through until I lost my brother.

Yesterday my co-worker asked me how I was and I told him "not happy" and then he asked why and I told him (it was work related). He then went on to tell me that it was my responsibility to change the situation and I got kinda of pissed at him. I wish people wouldn't ask me how I am if they don't really want me to answer them. Perhaps he doesn't like silence and wants to fill it up with pointless conversation. I don't know but it's annoying some of the phrases that exist.

[sKePTiKal]

Hops - nope; you didn't go too far - you don't need forgiving either. There ain't a whole lot that offends me anymore. I'll either think "bless their heart" or "what an idiot" (no, not you Hops) and walk away.

Garbanzo: nail, meet head of hammer... you got it. Our society has such a taboo about death, that there are a million platitudes, euphemisms, and coping mechanisms built into "what you do" traditions... all intended (I think) for the later stages of processing grief - for when one is preparing to pick up the pieces and put their life back together again. There is some kind social shame about tears... well, I do have my private time with tears and my kitty. But there is enough celtic viking dna in my system, that I do give way to the banshee side of grief. For a little bit. Opening the floodgates seriously reduces the pressure inside that builds up and threatens to destroy the dam.

People simply aren't ready for your truthful responses Garbanzo. They are pretending to inquire (I'm sure you know this) in some social "dance" of everyone getting along, just one happy family... HA. On my end of experience, I've had to tell the cancer resource "navigator" - that all this "help" is damned overwhelming. We are tired; we just need to veg-out in front of the tv & puter... and just sit still for awhile. I did give her a bone; one suggestion that I know would help - which would be the ability to have someone with him while I get some hours outside working in the yard. Of course, he's not comfortable with a stranger, he told me so; so there's some negotiating there.

The author gets it. And while I'm guilty of using that phrase in situations... I can still see that he's right. Sometimes there just is no reason for things.

Boy can I identify with this:

While so much loss has made me acutely aware and empathetic of the pains of others, it has made me more insular and predisposed to hide. I have a more cynical view of human nature, and a greater impatience with those who are unfamiliar with what loss does to people.

Above all, I've been left with a pervasive survivor’s guilt that has haunted me all my life. This guilt is really the genesis of my hiding, self-sabotage and brokenness.

I have to double check with myself, when I'm turning aside offers of help, that I'm not doing this. For the life of me, I don't KNOW what anyone can do to help. It's amazing what "doesn't matter" at times like these, you know? The weeds in the lawn, the half-finished projects, and fence boards falling down are almost expressions of what life is like, right now. 10 times a day, I think about calling the guy who said he'd be glad to come out with his crew and help me get the yard back in shape. 10 times a day, I think I'm not ready to let go of that task - I want to be able to do it myself - but I have not yet mastered the art of being in 2 places at once, despite all the practice attempts.

And I've been thinking about pulling out my bunny hat.

[sKePTiKal]

One more thing I "saw" in this essay...

People say: "Everything happens for a reason" because it is comforting to them and so they hope it is, to the person grieving too. They can believe it, because their earliest experience of life was predictable - parents who were always there, a daily routine in life, absence of drama and upset and terror. Daily acknowledgement of their uniqueness as a person. Some of us have tried to create that for ourselves, but we know it's a fiction. A veneer that shines up the turd of randomness and arbitrary nature of real life. It's the little white lie we tell ourselves and show to others, to be accepted into the society of "normals".

And when their life goes topsy-turvy, is shattered... they are amazed that we can step right into that mess and do what needs doing. Because we've been there before; we know this place intimately -- even if we don't like it much at all.

A few people have said to me: I'm so sorry this is happening to YOU. As if my experience is so much more worthy of their attention than Mike's. Chances are they could read the confusion on my face. Why NOT me? Why NOT him? We're not "special"... we haven't paid our dues to the "get out of life without any sadness, struggle or tragedy" club. And we didn't win that lottery. Maybe that's also a case where things don't translate well -- maybe they intuit that we've been through a lot of these kinds of things and that came up on the roulette "wheel" of life again. And they're just fumbling for the words... I dunno. Maybe I'm just too stuck in my own experience to realize how terrified people are that this will happen to them too and they're just doing the best they can. Just like me -- but I have a lot more practice.

[lighter]

Doc G:

This article makes me feel ill thinking about saying the right thing to all people at all times who are struggling with death and dying.  I know I can't do that, and it's unfair to presume I could begin to meet the needs of all.... different words and acts comfort different people.  No two will ever share the same views, IME.   

This article makes me less inclined to share, or engage with people struggling with losing loved ones, only bc I don't want to add any more strife or hurt to their lives. 

It makes me feel more inclined to listen to my intuitions.... meeting people where I am.  Listen to what makes me feel lighter or heavier, and just ask them....

what can I do? 

How can I help? 

Rather than chiming in with MY experience, MY opinions based on what I've observed in the world.

::shaking head::

"No good deed goes unpunished" was one of my father's favorite sayings.  He's been right so so many times, IME. Such a shame when our intentions are to help, or at least do no harm.

Maybe.... sometimes.... just asking what someone feels they need, and not DOING DOING DOING what would make us feel better is......  safer?  Less hurtful if we'd miss the mark by offering what might comfort us, but not them?

Lighter

[Dr. Richard Grossman]

Hi Lighter,

Sorry, I haven't had a minute to respond--helping my father transition to assisted living.  But I'll be back to you as soon as I can...

Richard

[lighter]

Aww, take care of your father, Doc G:

I'm not worrying about a response. 

The article gave me much food for thought, and I continue to ponder it.

Thanks for providing the link.

Lighter

[mudpuppy]

I agree with most of what the guy said, and have said a lot of it myself, but he seems rather angry and unforgiving and what he accuses others of; lacking understanding.

Most of the people saying stupid things haven't been through something similar or they have but still think they have to ease the pain with words or advice.

They mean well and as long as one recognizes that even if you're grieving you should be able to extend them the charity of knowing they meant well but didn't know how to do it.

Especially because one day while we're still grieving, they will have moved on with life and we'll kind of resent occasionally that they no longer come around with their bad advice and stupid platitudes.

So of course grieving is mostly private; it's between you and the person who is gone or you and God or you and the universe. Other people can either sit with you silently, as he says, or they can sit and say stupid things or, and this happens too, some can sit and say things that will help you. It might be weeks or months later but some people do know when to speak and what to say. Sometimes they turn out to be the people who said the stupidest, most hurtful thing the week before and if you push them out for the bad you miss the good.

From what I've seen, outside of intentionally harmful or disgusting behavior, external sources have little or no effect on the course or endurance of grief. It does what it will with us depending on how and who we are and we end up changed for the better or worse, also probably dependent largely on who we were before hand.

I'm pretty much the same person I was before;  I just exist in a different world that now has a background radiation of loss and sorrow and the sense of being robbed of something.

mud

[sKePTiKal]

... we'll kind of resent occasionally that they no longer come around with their bad advice and stupid platitudes.

Indeed. People will feel pushed away, if I continue saying - I'm OK; really, I'm fine. Lighter was saying she felt a bit self-conscious about knowing just what to say; yep - I know what you mean! I've never had the "right thing to say" on the tip of my tongue because I often just want to scoop up the grieving in my arms and rock them and tell them over & over to just cry it all out; that it will be OK, even if it's not completely OK. That crosses way too many boundaries. But life (and therefore death, because it IS a part of life) is a "shared experience" among more people than just us. And people are willing to venture into lives - even if it's just to peer into the window and speak the common platitudes of etiquette. There is something nice about that too.

The fact is that I am pretty self-reliant; and pretty well prepared (or am able to leap logistical tall buildings to become so, as I discover what I need) and emotionally, prefer this written word environment or the solitude of just me & my kitty to deal with the messy, blubbery, wailing part of grieving to actually being surrounded by real people with all their idiosyncrasies and quirks and -- as I'm still programmed to notice -- their own needs, which I still feel obligated to meet somehow. But we know strong people do break, if they don't learn how to bend and the more "rigid" something is - the more "fragile" it is to changes in environment.

Perhaps there is something useful to work with to create new rituals or traditions or etiquette, in the concept of the Irish wake. Originally, it was simply sitting with the body of the departed to pray for the ease of the spirit on it's journey to the "next world". But maybe it also works the other way around a little too. Allows time for the grieving to expand and narrate and write dialogue in their heads - and experience emotional release - for the final goodbye? I mean, I'm open to the fact that sometimes there are communications across that divide too. Different ways to explain it; but it's real in a way that overly structured traditional services, aren't.

I got stuck being the source of personal reminiscences and stories about my Dad, for his service. I don't know why my brother - who actually spent time with him; not me - didn't. Twiggy and I had pretty much called a truce and figured out a way forward that met each other's needs... and there I was having to dredge up the mental snapshots that she engraved on the memory so many years ago. It wasn't who everyone else there knew; it was who he was BEFORE the divorce. I was searching for a way to illustrate a personality and character that stands on its own and paints the picture, but all I had was that interpretation of my experience with him - and according to the overseer of all facts (my mom) that interpretation made me a heretic. WTH? That's what I went with.

Lighter - you can't go wrong saying some things like -

I'm so very sorry
You are in my thoughts, daily

And then simply check in with those people to just ask, how they are today? and let them talk - or not - as it goes.

And then repeat the question: is there anything you need or want me to do? A way I can help? And let them know if they think of something later - to call.

The dance is between a rote, pro forma, standard boilerplate expression of sympathy... and crossing boundaries, which shift during grieving. Maybe just acknowledging that you see the boundary would be a real relief to some people?

[mudpuppy]

Perhaps there is something useful to work with to create new rituals or traditions or etiquette, in the concept of the Irish wake.

The Jews call it "sitting Shiva" after someone dies.
Basically, for a week, visitors usually bring food but when they enter the home they don't initiate conversations. If the mourners [immediate family] wish to talk they will start a conversation, if not then there will pretty much be silence.
If a conversation does start the visitors are expected to talk about the deceased which keeps the conversation off of the mourners, which is a good thing.
There are lots of rules which I am not inclined to follow like not taking a shower and wearing the same clothes all week but otherwise it seems like a pretty good institution.

The dance is between a rote, pro forma, standard boilerplate expression of sympathy... and crossing boundaries, which shift during grieving. Maybe just acknowledging that you see the boundary would be a real relief to some people?

The problem is if you know the person means well when they something hurtful or stupid it is very hard to let them know, because you cross a boundary yourself if you do. They're trying to help and usually are uncomfortable already not knowing what to say and very often are grieving themselves over the loss.
I imagine it's been going on ever since Alley Oop got stepped on by his dinosaur, which I guess is why rituals and rules have occasionally been developed. But rules are simple and people are complex so you just get through it as best you can, like millions, I suppose billions of others have.

mud

[Hopalong]

I think it helps to not be so afraid of each other.
Not the dead person, who has gone elsewhere.
Not a dying person, who is enduring the transition.
Not the grieving person, who may or may not feel erratic.
Not ourselves, who arrive at the doorstep with clay on our feet.
Not mistakes, which the dead and dying have made, and both the
grieving and the comforter can make too.

If we can stop being scared of each other and just be present, with an open heart,
no script, listen more than we speak and be brave and real...it'll be okay.

Death has guns, but we have flowers.

love,
Hops

[Dr. Richard Grossman]

Hi Lighter,

Sorry…finally, I have some breathing room to respond to your post/thoughts…

How does one enter the world of someone else who’s experienced the destruction of the basic core/meaning of their existence?  So much that we have to offer will appear/feel trite to them.  So many times they will feel:  “If you only knew…”   We can only do the best we can and we must realize it can never be “good enough,”  But if we can find a way to let the person know, again to their core, that they are not completely alone—well, that is an extraordinary accomplishment.  Listening, without advice, and without judgment—and always being open and encouraging of hearing more and more pain, more and more memories of the person they have lost—and long hugs at the end of sometimes insufficient time together—have always “worked” best for me over time as a therapist and human being.

Richard

[Hopalong]

This is probably the most extraordinary piece of writing on death and friendship I've ever read.

http://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/a34905/matthew-teague-wife-cancer-essay/?src=longreads

Hops

[sKePTiKal]

That was pretty close, to what I've gone through.
 
Thanks, Hops.

The relief part feels scandalous; taboo. And yes, I find myself tuning my emotions to what people are expecting to find in me... so as not to disappoint them. Yesterday, two neighbors that are complete strangers came by to say they saw the obit and they were so sorry and to introduce themselves. They thought I was new to the neighborhood. Brought a camellia cutting and some muffins. It was nice of them - but I babble like a complete idiot because I have no idea what to say to people beyond thanking them for their kindness.

I'm getting SO MUCH "you need to do this" input, that I feel paralyzed and not wanting to do anything for fear of stepping on someone's toes. So, I'm staying in this big messy house and putting it into the condition I wanted from the beginning. For now. I might run up to the cabin for Christmas -- because there is no phone, no internet, no tv -- and I feel peace and a sense of delighted adventure simply being alone right now. It works for me.

Try explaining that to kids that think I'm one step away from a nursing home, myself. I've had to put the kibosh on that idea, right quick. They mean well -- but that is their own fears and not reality, at this time.