Please, allow me to kick you in the teeth.

…then you can tell me “everything happens for a reason.”

It’s a familiar scenario.

Person: I am so sorry to hear that your dad passed.

Me: Me too.

Person: Just remember everything happens for a reason.

Me: *rears back foot*

These exchanges of faux-concern are unfortunately the majority of conversations most of us endure while grieving. But, let me tell you, anyone who “consoles” you by implying that tragedy was somehow graciously given to you to benefit your future growth is full of sh*t. Cut them out of your life immediately.

Let’s be clear. Everything does happen for a reason. We learned cause and effect in elementary school:

• If Johnny doesn’t listen in class, he will fail the test.
• If Mary eats 18 cupcakes, she will gain weight.
• If you tell me “everything happens for a reason,” I will kick you in the teeth.

Everything happens for a reason, but the reason is not one’s future self-improvement.

My dad did not die at 59 so I could grow as a person. He died because he had cancer.

Your boyfriend did not cheat on you so you find the strength to move on. He cheated because he didn’t like you anymore.

You did not get fired so that you could find your true career path. You got fired because they didn’t want to work with you anymore.

If I’m coming off as harsh, it’s because I hear there are 4 stages of grief, and today I happen to be in good ole’ number three: pure, white-hot anger.

But honestly, considering how our culture treats grief, how could I not be? When faced with tragedy, how can we not feel angry when society brushes it off and implies it’s ultimately for our betterment? That we should somehow reflect and praise this time of suffering for it will eventually lead to greatness?

There are millions of websites like Upworthy and TED that highlight amazing people who overcome tragedy and achieve greatness. I like them too. I love a good story about a kid whose grandparents were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s that has now invented motion-sensor socks to help his caregivers. But I bet even he would tell you he’d trade it all to have his grandfather back. He may have harnessed a terrible event and created good, but that amazing story is a testament to his hard work and perseverance in the face of disaster, not divine fate.

There are also millions of statistics that represent those who did not overcome tragedy and achieve greatness. The staggering number of couples who divorce after the loss of a child. The number of children likely to commit suicide if they’ve lost a parent to a similar fate. The way that depression can trickle down into a family tree like a leaky faucet.

And that’s the part we don’t talk about. We love to tell each other that “everything happens for a reason” and “things get better with time,” because it’s easier than offering a “how are you feeling” or “please call me if you need a friend right now.”

What if instead, we said, “You’re so strong for getting through the day.” “It’s amazing that you’re not laying in your bed for a week straight.” What if we praised people’s small steps at recovery instead of implying that it’s ultimately destined to arrive?

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to throw things and scream until your lungs give out. It’s okay to throw a pity party, but I hope you won’t stay there. Bad things happen, but the effects don’t have to continue.

And please remember, if you choose to break that cycle, it’s because YOU worked hard, YOU built a great support system and YOU chose to move on, not because “everything happens for a reason.”