Twisted
I wish this entire website could be an inspiring, triumphant climb from grief to glory. I wish I could promise that the path from pain to healing will be a smooth journey peopled only by wonderful companions along the way. I wish I could tell you that love always wins, that people are always kind, that being widowed or grieving automatically elevates you into the company of people who are treated as tenderly, gently and sensitively as your fragile state and bruised and aching heart would seem to require. Um, No.
In all my years ministering to and observing the bereaved and their families, I had a pretty low bar for how people act when they’re hurting. The reality is, people don’t always act out of their highest selves at the best of times – and death and loss are definitely not the best of times! But even I was surprised by some of the ways that people treated me when I was at my lowest ebb, including on the very day my husband died! And talking to my widowed friends, I know I am far from alone. People respond to grief – yours and their own – in a million different ways and very few have anything at all to do with you.
Incredibly, it can get quite nasty. It may seem hard to believe, but there is a side of human nature that can want to kick you when you’re down, that sees vulnerability as a chance to go for the jugular. I have been stung quite badly by people whose grief got twisted into very ugly shapes and I’ve also experienced the strange phenomenon of being attacked when I was hurting the most. It happens, it’s not your fault, there may be nothing you can do to prevent it, but with a little wisdom and forethought, you can be prepared when it happens and better able to let it go when you need to.
The problem is – people are complex creatures. Whether nature or nurture – we all grow up in a certain set of circumstances and are completely unique beings. As a hospital chaplain, I studied the pain scale used in rehab and hospital settings to assess and manage pain. “What is your pain like today out of ten, if one is a slight headache and ten is you’re being tortured?” “Oh, God, I’m a nine!” says one person, while another with the exact same injury or almost identical aliment says, “I don’t know, maybe a two or three?”
This method of gauging physical pain was created because health care professionals became aware that everyone’s pain tolerance is different, and the sensation of pain can be very subjective, so “What is this like for you?” is an important question. I believe this can also be true for psychic pain; someone’s ‘one’ may be another’s ‘ten’ since most people’s response to grief (and to most things in life) is very often autobiographical. If you listen closely, most people are usually talking about themselves, even when they think they’re not.
So when it comes to loss, people react out of their own history, their inherent character and also their unresolved wounds. And major losses like death can trigger other losses: old griefs, abandonment, estrangement, fear, diminishment, betrayal, and the ‘death from 1000 cuts’ that life can bring. This can result in some awful scenarios that add to your grief rather than assuage it. And it’s difficult to know when your loss might trigger someone else’s ‘ten.’
For grief does not exist in a vacuum; it affects not only you, it affects everyone around you. The person you loved and lost was loved by others as well and they are all coping with their loss, some better than others. If your spouse is younger, he may have parents who feel the grief unique to those who lose a child, or siblings and extended family who are also really struggling, but in ways that are different than yours. If you have children together, it can be challenging to make taking care of their needs paramount alongside facing your own grief.
And of course, blended families are always formed by loss (whether through divorce or death) and the ‘fault lines’ in those previous losses are likely to crack open again at this new loss. Children and step-children have their own complex feelings; friends’ grief is different but may be just as intense as family’s and your spouse may be pivotal in their chosen field and leave a huge hole in their work community and in the hearts of colleagues.
Bereavement theory tells us that when people close to each other are grieving, each in a different way, they cannot always be sources of comfort and understanding for each other – sometimes there’s simply not enough empathy to go around. And family systems theory tells us that any change in a system affects everyone and everything within the system, so even the simplest change you feel you need to make in response to the loss of your spouse can be misunderstood or have emotional consequences for others. In turn, their response to you can add hurt to your already wounded heart. Here are just a few real-life examples of unfortunate ways that grief can get twisted:
Adult children whose grief makes them resent a widowed parent’s choices – whether to find a new relationship, embrace more children, sell a house or make a necessary move
The couple grieving the loss of a child whose marriage is at risk because each is hurting so much they cannot help or comfort one another
Sisters, sisters-in-law or friends who are pregnant at the same time when one loses their baby and the others go on to have healthy children – and the relationship is never the same
Friends who you never hear from again after the death of your spouse
Family members who resent the terms of a will and cause drama and pain all around
A grieving adult child who invents/circulates a rumour that their father was cheating on his ailing wife in the last months of her life
Friends who cannot adjust to the loss of their friend and say to her remarried spouse “Seeing you with your new wife is like a knife in my heart”
Those are just a few examples but there are thousands more. I wish there weren’t. So how can we face the ways that grief gets twisted, particularly when it becomes something that compounds our hurt? To start with:
Expect it. Don’t be blindsided. Prepare for the many ways that people let you down because of their own woundedness. But also keep your eyes open for those who surprise you with their strength, kindness and understanding. They’re out there – just not always where you thought they’d be.
Understand it. Grief is awful. It’s hard. It can be all-encompassing. Grieving people are hurting and hurting people are often hurtful in turn. It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.
Don’t own it. It’s theirs to own, not yours. What has happened to all of you has triggered something in them. It’s not about you at all, even when it feels like it’s pointed your way.
Take care of yourself. There’s an old expression “Trust in God, but tie up your camel.” In modern parlance it means you can still hope for the best while preparing for the worst. You can have empathy for the ways that others’ grief is causing you pain, particularly if they’re someone you care about – and still make taking care of yourself your highest value. After all, one of the biggest changes in your life is that you used to have someone who put your needs and feelings first. Now you have to be that person for yourself. Love yourself the way you were loved.
Move past it. See a counsellor. Tell them to see a counsellor. Make plans to do what you need to do. Surround yourself with loving friends or family. Take the trip. Sell the house. Get the space you need from those who bring you pain. Pray for them. Forgive them. Fall in love again, even if it’s with yourself or with life. Let it go. And be happy.
Expect it, understand it, don’t own it, take care of yourself and move past it. You’ll undo those twisted knots before you know it.
