Advice from a Rebel Leader
We’re Sorry We Told You To F**k Off
We are overwhelmed, but we still meant it. Here’s why.
We know you don’t understand what went wrong so quickly. All you meant to offer were condolences. In your attempt to console and comfort, you received a jarring retort that caught you off-guard. Congratulations! You are now a card-carrying member of the Grief-Illiterate Club.
Listen, we know it hurts. So although we, the grieving, owe you nothing, I’m here as an emissary to explain what happened, why you’ve been relegated to the club, and to offer guidance on how to avoid renewing your membership in the future.
Before I dive in, please bear in mind that we are not heartless; we are heartbroken. Grief slapped us in the face, but since we are not allowed to slap back — you may be in danger if you’re the next face we see. I suppose this warning is a bit too late.
We do appreciate the attempt at kindness. Which is why I’m willing to offer this explanation as to why you’re free to exit, stage left. Take it or leave it; but either way, please leave. As my dead mother would say, “I unfriend you, you dumb bunny.” She never really meant it, but it sure did buy her some time and space to work through the stupid things said to her in times of sorrow.
So You Stepped In Shit. Now What?
This is an opportunity for you to understand how you unintentionally joined ranks with the masses mishandling grief. You’re not the only one to royally trash an opportunity for empathy and active listening. Below are some common ways you might fumble in the healing process for another.
- Trying to fix the unfixable
Did you show up with a bunch of ideas and encouraging platitudes? Solutions to distract or make us feel better? Keep your brilliant solutions to yourself, along with anything resembling, “It’s okay.” We don’t need to feel better. We need to be allowed to feel. There is nothing to fix. - Inadvertently minimizing our loss
Did you just ask us how close we were to the person who died? Fully irrelevant. No more questions like that. Are you disappointed we need time off work over the loss of our dog? Again, keep that judgment to yourself. Maybe do a little self-reflection on how mean that judgment might sound. - Dismissing our loss as ephemeral
No, things will not get better soon. Time doesn’t heal anything without intention, and the only intention we have right now is to avoid the people who make us feel like the sun has evaporated from existence. We want to believe the sun is still there, even when we don’t feel it. Your discomfort with the unending melancholy is yours to carry; not ours. We will take all the time we need. No, we do not have any idea how long that will be. Grief lasts as long as love lasts. - Overidentifying with our pain as your own
You don’t know how we feel. Saying so implies that you asked about our feelings, then summarized them back to us like an active listener. Since we’re here in what comes off as a dressing down, it’s more likely that you want our feelings to end so you can feel better. And while we’re at it, don’t insert yourself as a supporting cast member in our story. If you want to hear how we feel, we will share. But only if we feel safe to do so without being dismissed or trivialized. You may have lost this person as well, but that doesn’t mean your pain is less or more important than ours. Give us a chance to speak without being spoken over. - Hijacking the empathy
We cannot count the number of times we’ve ended up consoling the one who delivered the meal to our doorstep. If you are willing to show up for someone else in their grief, do not take the opportunity to detail your miscarriage, your divorce, your father’s passing. This is not a time to relate. It’s a time to see us and say very little beyond, “You’re right — this sucks. I’m so sorry. I’m here.”
Cleaning Off Your Boots
If you recognize some of the behaviors above, don’t panic. We don’t really want to lose you, too. So it’s likely that with time, we will move through our grief and open the door again. If you need to apologize, do it without excuses or expectations. Showing up for someone in grief is not a time for, “Show and tell.” This is, “Shut up and observe.” Make amends and make space.
When you are invited back, be specific with your help. Offer a meal on a certain night; a ride or help with cleaning. Grief steals our ability to make decisions or even handle the usual dinner-sized plates of responsibility. We’re at salad plate capacity right now — remembering that will give you a little insight into what we need without having to pester us for an answer.
If you’re still reading, you’re owed a second round of applause along with our gratitude. Even WE feel annoyed with how condescending our attitudes sound in the face of grief. We snapped, but you love us. You’re hurt, but you can understand that we’re hurting, too. It would be really easy to dismiss our pain and push back against being wronged. Thank you for sticking with us and trying to learn.
The age-old adage “H.A.L.T.” applies here; if we are hungry, angry, lonely, or tired, we should address those needs before we preternaturally unhinge our jaws and swallow another well-wisher whole. But that’s just not how grief works, and it certainly isn’t how grief support works either.
I became a grief coach for both sides of the table. We need better methods to support our loved ones who are hurting without causing more damage. We need better tools for managing our grief so we can hold compassion in our hearts for the many who have the fortune of never encountering loss in their own life. Taking the time to listen, even when we are flippant or flagrant, means the world is becoming more grief literate, one person at a time. So read as much as you can about grief, but stay away from old school thinking about moving on and stages. That’s the kind of shit that sets your club membership on automatic annual renewal. And that’ll cost you.
The next time you are granted access to a loved one in grief, may you find excessive grace for our disregard of social norms and comfort in the silence of simply holding space.
Mandy Capehart is a certified grief and life coach, and creator of The Restorative Grief Project. The Restorative Grief Project is an online community focusing on one another’s stories and new methodologies for grief, creating a safe environment for our souls to heal and our spirits to be revived. Registration is currently closed, but you can join the waitlist at www.MandyCapehart.com/grief or follow along with weekly columns on Ask A Grief Coach!
