A little perspective
This morning I was searching the web for information about a mysterious symptom I've been worried about, and came across the blog of this woman I can only describe as totally, utterly pathetic. As in, exuding pathos – in the extreme. In the last year she's dealt with ongoing fertility problems including several miscarriages, plus bipolar disorder, a diagnosis of cancer, thyroid problems and other health issues, and just a couple of weeks ago lost her father, also to cancer. I read several months' worth of entries, entranced. Even more interesting than the posts themselves were the comments they elicited – hundreds of them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, you poor thing, life's not fair, this sux, you deserve better, etc. etc. etc."
Reading all that left me feeling strange and surreal. What would I do if I had stuff like that going on in my life? Would I be able to handle it, or would my body/mind fall back into stress-induced depression? How would I respond to a friend going through something similar? How should I respond?
It's always bothered me when people say, after something has gone supposedly wrong, "I'm sorry." I think I might have written about this before; or maybe not – I find it incredibly hard to put my feelings on this topic into words. Sometimes something happens that demands to be acknowledged. Something you don't like, don't want, can't believe. That's when people always start saying "I'm sorry," because ... well, why? Because they want to connect, and you have to say something ... But saying "I'm sorry" is like saying, "This should not be happening. I want you to always get what you want, which is the same as saying I want to always get what I want, which we all know is not the way life is – we don't always get what we want – so what I'm really saying is, I don't like the way life is – I don't accept it – which is like saying I reject life."
So I guess that's why it bothers me when people say "I'm sorry." It's like saying, "I reject life." And really, when somebody's heart is broken what I think people are trying to do is connect, share the pain, let the person know they're not alone ... we want to embrace them and the life that's in them, and help each other be strong enough to bear it all and love our lives – not push it all away.
Why is it so hard to just accept pain? I know we're designed to avoid it – it's a survival mechanism, a way to keep the species alive.
What are some good ways to support a person who's suffering, without negating their experience? There are lots of things I don't understand and don't like, but to say "this should not be" seems ... well, how do I know what "should" or "should not" happen? I had some insight over this last week as well, when I was sick – there was a period of a couple of days when I began to panic just a bit, feeling like I had always been sick and was always going to be sick, and almost half wishing to just die and be done with it – I was very miserable. Eventually some of my practice came back and it occurred to me, "I can let these thoughts come and go – it's not required to seize hold of them and identify with them and keep them alive forever and ever."
Remembering that made me feel a lot better. But how do you support someone who doesn't have a spiritual practice to stand on, who doesn't have these tools, who feels they're just freefalling into an apparently bottomless pit of despair?
When I've been in pain I think the best thing anyone ever did was just to spend time with me. Not talking or doing anything, even – just sharing their presence with me.
Anyway, just some thoughts.
Also, I listened to this dharma talk today and liked it a lot (click here to listen – it's about an hour long and will start playing as soon as you click). It's more on dukkha – my favorite topic. I've been thinking about something he said about getting what you want vs. not getting it - that both conditions are dukkha, meaning "unsatisfactory." That's the actual word the Buddha used when talking about life, by the way – usually it's translated as "suffering," as in "Life is suffering," which seems like such a negative, bummer kind of thing to say. But what he really said was more along the lines of "life is unsatisfactory." An obvious understatement that is still somehow sort of not allowed to be spoken in the rich and happy can-do culture of twenty-first century America.
I think I started to feel about ten thousand times better about my life when I finally absorbed this simple concept – that getting what I wanted was not necessarily going to make me any happier than not getting it. I can practice equanimity (is that really the same as happiness? To me, it kind of is.) no matter what's going on – even if I'm feeling other emotions that we're not really "supposed to" accept, like anger, or fear, or sadness – whatever. I can accept it all as my life and my experience, and take an interest in it, and in that sense enjoy it all even if I'm lying on the couch crying and pounding my fists against the armrest.
Not sure where I'm going with all this. I just keep thinking of that woman's blog though, and wondering ... are there people in my life who are going through their own dark nights right now, and I don't even know it?
Reading all that left me feeling strange and surreal. What would I do if I had stuff like that going on in my life? Would I be able to handle it, or would my body/mind fall back into stress-induced depression? How would I respond to a friend going through something similar? How should I respond?
It's always bothered me when people say, after something has gone supposedly wrong, "I'm sorry." I think I might have written about this before; or maybe not – I find it incredibly hard to put my feelings on this topic into words. Sometimes something happens that demands to be acknowledged. Something you don't like, don't want, can't believe. That's when people always start saying "I'm sorry," because ... well, why? Because they want to connect, and you have to say something ... But saying "I'm sorry" is like saying, "This should not be happening. I want you to always get what you want, which is the same as saying I want to always get what I want, which we all know is not the way life is – we don't always get what we want – so what I'm really saying is, I don't like the way life is – I don't accept it – which is like saying I reject life."
So I guess that's why it bothers me when people say "I'm sorry." It's like saying, "I reject life." And really, when somebody's heart is broken what I think people are trying to do is connect, share the pain, let the person know they're not alone ... we want to embrace them and the life that's in them, and help each other be strong enough to bear it all and love our lives – not push it all away.
Why is it so hard to just accept pain? I know we're designed to avoid it – it's a survival mechanism, a way to keep the species alive.
What are some good ways to support a person who's suffering, without negating their experience? There are lots of things I don't understand and don't like, but to say "this should not be" seems ... well, how do I know what "should" or "should not" happen? I had some insight over this last week as well, when I was sick – there was a period of a couple of days when I began to panic just a bit, feeling like I had always been sick and was always going to be sick, and almost half wishing to just die and be done with it – I was very miserable. Eventually some of my practice came back and it occurred to me, "I can let these thoughts come and go – it's not required to seize hold of them and identify with them and keep them alive forever and ever."
Remembering that made me feel a lot better. But how do you support someone who doesn't have a spiritual practice to stand on, who doesn't have these tools, who feels they're just freefalling into an apparently bottomless pit of despair?
When I've been in pain I think the best thing anyone ever did was just to spend time with me. Not talking or doing anything, even – just sharing their presence with me.
Anyway, just some thoughts.
Also, I listened to this dharma talk today and liked it a lot (click here to listen – it's about an hour long and will start playing as soon as you click). It's more on dukkha – my favorite topic. I've been thinking about something he said about getting what you want vs. not getting it - that both conditions are dukkha, meaning "unsatisfactory." That's the actual word the Buddha used when talking about life, by the way – usually it's translated as "suffering," as in "Life is suffering," which seems like such a negative, bummer kind of thing to say. But what he really said was more along the lines of "life is unsatisfactory." An obvious understatement that is still somehow sort of not allowed to be spoken in the rich and happy can-do culture of twenty-first century America.
I think I started to feel about ten thousand times better about my life when I finally absorbed this simple concept – that getting what I wanted was not necessarily going to make me any happier than not getting it. I can practice equanimity (is that really the same as happiness? To me, it kind of is.) no matter what's going on – even if I'm feeling other emotions that we're not really "supposed to" accept, like anger, or fear, or sadness – whatever. I can accept it all as my life and my experience, and take an interest in it, and in that sense enjoy it all even if I'm lying on the couch crying and pounding my fists against the armrest.
Not sure where I'm going with all this. I just keep thinking of that woman's blog though, and wondering ... are there people in my life who are going through their own dark nights right now, and I don't even know it?
1 Comments:
Wow, this is a really thought-provoking entry for me, Tina. I really appreciate the phrase "I'm sorry" and use it all the time for exactly the opposite reason why you hate it. I use it to mean simply, "I feel empathy for you. I care about you." It has nothing to do (in my mind) with rejecting life or even feeling like the situation is "wrong" or "unfair."
It's one of the few phrases that I feel safe in saying to someone who's having a difficult time because I always thought it was kind and neutral (not giving advice, not telling them how they should feel about anything). Now that I know you feel differently, I have something to think about.
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