When you need to fall apart
Do you know how reaffirming it is for your child to seek out your gaze at any given moment, and find your warm, loving, accepting eyes seeking them back?
These types of subtle yet powerful encounters really “hit the spot” for our kids in a way nothing else can. In attachment terms, we are talking about moments of attunement.
And when it comes to connection, these types of attuned encounters can be especially bonding if our children are hurting and turn to us for help.
A few weeks ago, I experienced one of these two-minute moments of deep healing and closeness with another human. It was just days after my dad’s funeral, and I was in the all-encompassing alternate reality that one is forced into after such a loss. And my moment of pain was met by a lifelong friend’s hug and gaze that said 100 times more than any words ever could, “I know. I love you. I know.”
This encounter went into the “helpful” category of the many things people did and said after my dad’s passing. With regard to what I needed the most during that time, it really hit the spot.
Because as you probably already know, we humans are hardwired to seek out a safe other to hold us close in our moments of deepest pain.
And yet, it is very common that when the pain, fear or shame around a loss are really big, many of us will tend to isolate.
Why is it that we are most tempted to separate ourselves from others in the moments where we most need attuned connection and care?
It doesn’t seem to make much sense. Or does it?
As I read the grief book that same friend gifted me (who lost both of her parents in the past year and a half), I was reminded of a very simple truth about why we, such social animals, isolate in times of grief.
They write, “...whatever one does to survive and manage the grief, being alone often feels safer than being vulnerable with people who may not understand.”
You see, in moments of significant pain, the risk of someone getting it wrong can seem far bigger than any imagined benefit. It feels safer to cut ourselves off than to feel cut off when we are not understood.
Can you relate to this?
The truth is, just as attuned support in times of struggle can be so deeply healing. A misattunement in these times can be incredibly painful. Mismatches between what we are needing and what we receive, can just make the hurt worse.
More simply said, if we are suffering and people miss the mark with their words or actions; this will likely add another layer to the pain we are already experiencing.
And also, when we are hurting, our resources may be so drained that it might be hard to muster the perspective and understanding that we can more easily grant others and ourselves in day to day misattunements (which happen all of the time!).
Here are a few things I encourage parents to avoid when practicing the art of holding space for their children’s expressions of pain. And in my experience, especially this recent one of losing my dad, these things generally aren’t helpful to us grownups either when our pain is big and resources feel low. Here are a few…
Asking for details that have not been offered to you, especially details that focus more on the “what” of the event and not the “how” of how the humans involved are doing. In the case of my dad being sick, it was not helpful for people to ask what he had or why he was in the hospital. And when our kids are hurting, it is rarely helpful for us to want or need to know what’s the matter, or determine if the event merits the degree of the response. They just need us to know and believe that if they are expressing that it hurts, it does hurt. And they need our care.
Telling people that they have to be a certain way. “You have to be strong!” Or calm. Or get it together. Or let yourself cry. There is no right or wrong way to be when you are hurting. Telling someone who feels like they are about to crumble that you expect them to be strong, or someone who is angry that they need to soften into their tears of sadness, will not actually help them to keep their heart strong, soft and open to healing.
Taking offense to when and how you are included in the person’s process. This moment isn’t about us, it’s about them. People choose who they feel safest with in these circumstances and all they need to know is that we are available for them. No matter how near, far, frequently or infrequently they want us to be there. Or in comparison to someone else. It does not promote trust if they feel that our willingness to be there for them depends on the status they will give us as their support people. This includes our kids.
Sharing your nuggets of wisdom or advice in their moment of pain. This is usually about timing. If people are figuring out their own version of what this all means, they usually just need a lot of space to talk about it. At another point, when the event isn’t so raw, they might love to hear your insights as well. But not usually when they are in the midst of the pain. Safest bet? Wait for them to ask, or ask them if your sharing would be helpful at that moment. Again, this applies with children as well.
We have all acquired conversational habits over time that push us towards gathering information, analyzing and coming to conclusions, instead of simply making room for the unpredictable feelings that in most cases just need to be witnessed.
And we can all learn how to switch these proactive habits out for the responsive ones that humans, big and small, really tend to need in their moments of great pain.
Because, again, we need to learn to provide that restorative connection that “hits the spot” if we want to be there for our children and loved ones in a way that,
will promote healing,
cultivate true resilience,
allow them to know their own wisdom and capacity through the inevitable and unpredictable blows that life will deal them.
Here are some of the most simple and helpful things I heard from people while my dad was in the hospital and after he passed…
“I am right here with you, and I love you. I am so sorry this is happening.”
“Take your time, I’ll be here. We will get through this together.”
“Would it be helpful if I dropped off something nice to eat and a hug for you?”
“I know you may not respond, and that’s okay. I just want you to know I am thinking and praying for him. And that I love you.”
“I would tell you that this pain will pass eventually. But that doesn’t help how shitty it feels at the moment, does it?”
“Hey friend, your father looks so beautiful and bright in the photo. Such a loving soul.”
These words, written with the time and thoughtfulness that text messages us to take, were exactly what I needed to hear. I felt seen. I felt held. I felt like someone else cared with me about what mattered the most to me (my dad). And I knew I wasn’t alone.
And you know what else hit the spot even more? The people who were able to look into my eyes, hug me, sit with me, and let me do whatever it is that I needed to do. Whatever sad, angry, exhausted, or even joyful remembering thing that I needed to feel and express. They could join me in my experience.
These people are the reason why, even though my world stopped when my dad got really sick and eventually died; and even though it is the hardest thing I have ever experienced in my life; I didn’t isolate myself.
It can be hard to find people like this. In fact, it makes sense if you can’t think of someone in your own life who can really do this for you. Or if they currently only exist for you in the context of a support group or counseling space.
Becoming this kind of person for others; and welcoming these kinds of humans into my own life in larger numbers than I ever imagined; has been an unexpected (and grossly underrated!) gift of healing while parenting.
A sacred gift that I have seen so many parents like you give yourselves with courage, hope and openness.
And a gift that allows you to do what this gentle parenting thing mostly comes down to; being able to be that person for your kid. Because they will always seek us out when they are hurting. Unless they realize it’s not safe enough to be worth the risk.
Read here about what it means and how it is that you can be that person that your children so need. And that they will be able to have in you throughout the rest of your story together.
You’ve got this. And I’m here to support you through it.