Tough times can come in many ways and friends can help (or not) in many ways too. I remember a friend sharing an article on Facebook, unfortunately I cannot remember the title or author to properly credit it, but I can remember it’s message. It warned against advice and spoke of how the soul needs to be witnessed. I suspect I am not alone in having received “advice”, most of it well-intentioned, that was completely inappropriate, when what I really wanted was to feel understood, and for how I felt, to be acknowledged and allowed.
When tough times come, whether it is a loss or some other form of challenge, we are often faced with a range of responses. I remember venturing out about a month after I had lost my baby, to a firework display, and a colleague saw me, and turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction rather than have to talk to me. Then there were the platitudes, which while well meant, diminished the pain I felt. We are not good at being with loss in a culture that believes that life should go our way, and that we can and should have what we want. So it is not surprising that we struggle when faced with loss, our own or a friend’s. What do we say?
Maybe we don’t need to say anything. Maybe what we need to do is listen and allow space. Maybe how well we can listen is far more helpful than anything we might say.
On a coaching course I came across 4 types of listening described. Cosmetic listening, the most superficial type of all, is really reserved for if we are on the receiving end of a boring monologue and don’t want to be rude. Then there is conversational listening for the more bidirectional conversation where we listen and then consider how we will respond. Finally, we have active and deep listening where it is far less about what we are going to say, and far more about understanding fully what the other person is seeking to convey. When we deeply listen we really seek to be with the experience of the other person, to be there with them to understand and empathise. And when our heart is breaking I think this is what we need.
Not everyone can do this type of listening, many people cannot. I remember phoning the support line at SANDS (support after neonatal death and stillbirth) when my husband and I were trying to conceive and struggling. Because of my history and loss, this was perhaps unsurprisingly bringing up a lot. The fear that we wouldn’t get pregnant and fear that we would and I’d lose it again. The lady who took the call just talked and talked about how my second pregnancy (which at the time I didn’t even know if I was going to have) would be hell. She obviously intended and wanted to be helpful having volunteered her time for the helpline, but she just didn’t get it. It wasn’t a given that I was having another pregnancy (and at 53 at the time of writing I think I can safely say the second pregnancy did not happen). Perhaps a little less talking and a little more listening might have helped.
What about our friends? Brene Brown in her book “The Gifts of Imperfection” talks about someone having earned the right to hear your story. As someone who overshared unwisely in my younger days, there is a sage lesson here. When it comes to sharing vulnerability, choose wisely. Not everyone is a natural empath and not everyone can truly listen. That doesn’t make them a bad friend period, but maybe not the best person for that moment.
There is only one type of person that will be shown a red card in this respect, and that is the person who uses my vulnerability for their own gain or to manipulate me in some way at a later date. That to me is the same betrayal of trust as telling the world something that should have remained private.
The person who cannot listen, or gives well-meaning but unhelpful advice, is just human. Maybe they haven’t had the opportunity yet to learn what it is to listen. For me being able to listen is still a work in progress. In my younger days I too gave the “advice” believing I was being helpful.
When it comes down to it, we all have to find our own solutions. If there were easy answers we’d being doing it already. When I was younger I asked a lot of advice, as I didn’t trust my own capacity to judge a situation and plan what to do. Little did I know back then of the wisdom that lay within, and does for all of us. So in tough times, it is not advice that we need from our friends, it is someone to just be with us while we work it out for ourselves.
If advice is genuinely needed, whether it be financial, legal or medical or other then there are qualified professionals for that.
Another question for tough times is how much can we expect from our friends? I can’t remember what the article was titled, but it was in a magazine years ago and the subject was just that, how much should a friend be expected to do? Unfortunately, I cannot remember the scenario completely, but I think a friend had fallen on hard times and expected to move into the author’s home for an unspecified period of time, which was more than the author wanted to give. And it raised the question of when should some things fall to family (though even family should be allowed limits in my view – maybe another blog for another day) and friendship be confined to tea and sympathy.
No-one has ever asked to stay with me for more than a short period, but I have had a friend ask for advice that was beyond what I felt qualified to give in a highly emotive situation where there could most definitely be consequences. I had to kindly tell this friend that I could not advise them on what to do, that I didn’t have the knowledge and that incorrect advice could be more harmful.
My best answer to this conundrum is that no-one is obligated to look after us and solve our problems for us. People give what they are able to and that line is in a different place for different people and that is ok, but good friends can be with us while we figure it out for ourselves.
Comments