Her voice quieted to a whisper, and she leaned over to me. Even before she said her next statement, I knew what was coming. I’ve seen that posture and expectant look before.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she said.
“I assure you I won’t,” I responded.
“I still expect to see him when I walk into the next room.” She sits back and releases herself as if the weight has just been lifted, albeit ready for a wave of judgment.
My first reaction is that twinge of heartache that comes from both sharing in the rawness of someone’s loss and also knowing she has been living with this secret for months now.
I sit quietly and check myself, making sure I don’t have an awkward knee-jerk reaction. The truth is that I experience moments like this with most clients. Confessions like this don’t come in the exploration session. It might not even be in the first week of our work together. It’s when we start to dig deep.
Now, I could talk about this phenomenon of grief. I could speak about the time it takes for our brain to catch up with the losses we experience.
But this is not that type of piece.
Instead, I want to share about our need for safe spaces when we are grieving. Too often, the spaces we thought would be safe leave us feeling vulnerable, exposed, and shattered.
Why is that?
Here are a few reasons:
- Our friends (often those closest to us) are not always equipped to help us immediately after a major loss.
- We often receive hurtful (albeit well-meaning) platitudes that shake us to the core.
- We are bombarded with misinformation when it comes to grieving.
- We can be our own worst critic of our grief experience.
In the story I shared, and other similar stories, these experiences are prefaced by a slew of examples of heartbreaking insensitivity by family and friends. Many previous safe spaces have long been lost. In the aftermath of a loss, the words of others and harsh words for ourselves often rain down relentlessly—applying painful salt to our wounds.
Many of these judgements come from well-meaning encouragement, but aren’t the words we need to hear. “It’s been a year already—don’t you think you should start dating again?” “You’ve been so upset lately. I think you should start doing things that make you happy so you can seem like yourself again.” “What are you doing to help get over this? You’ve changed so much.”
When people make these statements, it’s not often from a mean-spirited place. It’s likely that they love you and see you’ve changed so much and are grieving themselves by how much you may have changed in your own grief. They want you to feel better and to get “back” to how you used to be. But the reality is, you’ll never be that person again because of the weight of grief you carry. You’ll simply become a new version of yourself—one of resilience, strength, and some sadness..
Dealing with these statements comes with a mix of emotions and circumstances I often find in my coaching space. Most of the time, people aren’t just facing the major loss, but they are also experiencing the loss of friends and safe spaces in the aftermath.
So what can we do?
Creating Safe Spaces With Others
We’ve all heard the stories in the aftermath of a major loss. It may come in the comment to a mother who’s just lost a child: “Heaven just needed another angel.” I’m not sure if anything hurts more. It feels like someone is keeled over in pain and is getting kicked in the stomach.
What’s worse is that these sharp words or comments often catch people completely off-guard, making them feel incredibly unsafe.
These are the steps I walk people through in anticipation:
- Practice your response to seemingly insensitive questions.
- Expect out-of-character comments from everyone.
- Allow forgiveness and grace to be a boundary you form against hurtful words and the feelings of loss you may experience when people surprise you (and perhaps not in the good way).
- Embrace the people who have perhaps experienced loss and embody the art of true compassion.
- Look beyond your normal circle of friends and family and be choosy.
Don’t expect your closest friends and family to be the ones who will walk the closest with you during the loss. They’ll only be there for you to the extent they can offer—and it’s usually not as much as the person grieving would like. This gap creates disappointment on both sides. So understanding the extent your loved ones can help can save you much-needed energy early in the loss.
Creating A Safe Space For Yourself
You want to know a secret?
I’ve never told a client that they need to create a safe space for themself, but that’s often what happens. The last thing someone needs to hear is that they now have another task: Creating safety.
Instead, this is a quiet walk with someone experiencing one of the most difficult times in their life.
By modeling safety and the ability to listen with my whole self, I (hopefully) give someone the opportunity to be present, heard, seen, and loved (as my dear mentor coach reminds me).
One word is the catalyst for this in someone’s life: Curiosity.
As we experience a major loss, we are like explorers in uncharted territory. Curiosity is a beautiful posture to a unique time in our life. This approach gives us space to release judgment and love ourselves in a time of great pain.
If you’re realizing you haven’t had a safe space to heal in quite some time, please reach out and schedule some to speak with me. Perhaps this is a reminder of a place of healing that has been waiting for a quiet, listening ear and a healthy dose of curiosity.
You can schedule an appointment with me here.