The spiritual bypass, dosey doe (no.12)

Post #12

I have four brothers, three living.

My parents second born, William Todd, came into this world with a hole in his heart.

He lived three days then died.

I came along years later. My dad would often talk about little Billy with ease, as another member of our family, my mom would not.

My young 4 or 5 year old mind would rationalize Billy’s death with versions of, “well if you’re going to lose I child, it’s better to lose them when they are a baby, before you’ve had a chance to get to know them.”

How could my young mind make sense of such a devastating loss?

It was a defense mechanism.

It was my way of coping, and trying to make sense of the loss of the brother I never met.

Since my mother never spoke of Billy, my young mind assumed she’d gotten over it and had nothing to say.

Until many years later, in my late 20’s she was taking me the airport one cold January afternoon and said, “They say you should get on the floor and play with your kids, I never got on the floor and played any of you. I was so worried something would happen.

As a mother, you think everything you do will contribute harm to your child. With Billy, I wondered what I’d done wrong to have him die.”

That was it.

The only time she ever spoke of her loss.

And now that I’m a mother, I get it.

I try to have compassion for my young mind, how could I ever truly comprehend that sort of loss, the death of any child at any age is incomprehensible. Just as losing a parent at any age is devastating.

We so often hear, “he lived a good life” or “she’s in a better place”.

People mean well, but it’s spiritual bypassing.

Must we silver line everything?

Is being with another’s pain so friggin uncomfortable we can’t even allow them to grieve the loss of a loved one for one moment before we must feel the need to contextualize “their” loss for them.

As if we know how they must be feeling?

How can we know if we don’t allow ourselves to get in the muck with them?

What if instead of attempting to make it better with words, we moved into acceptance that nothing we can say will make the pain go away.  

However, there are things we say that make it worse.

I imagine you might feel helpless and that’s a sucky feeling to be with, let me encourage you to just be with the suck.

If empathy feels out of reach, perhaps share with the griever what you see. “I can only imagine the pain you’re experiencing and I’m not even sure what to say right now, but I’m gonna stay here right by your side.”  

Have the courage, to be a witness.

And If you really want to help…

Don’t run. Don’t hide.

Definitely don’t hide behind God or any sort of platitude like

“it all happens for a reason” or “it’s a blessing in disguise”

that does not help.

I know, we’ve all done it, I’ve done it.

Now that we know better, we do better.

Sit and cry with them.

Be with them, hold them, and be willing to get messy.

This applies to job loss, heartbreak or any other trauma.

Go against the grain and release the desire to make it better.

Get down and dirty, climb into the muck, don’t be afraid to feel something too.

Empathy is measured by the receiver and we know, we can feel when someone is “in it” with us and when they’re just floating above the fray. Doing anything and everything possible to not get dirty, to not feel. Because feeling can be so very tough. So very painful.

Now of course, you can’t do this with just anyone, that’s a large emotional capacity.

Therapists can’t do this, their very job and survival depends on them maintaining some distance. I’m guessing you most certainly can stretch do with your bestie, your child, your partner.

Your core inner circle.

These people are counting on you.

Can you show up for them?

If you feel triggered, because what they are experiencing is bringing up your stuff, then tell them that.

A very close friend, in one of my greatest time of need, bailed on me, exited the friendship. Just left.

It was only 4 years later, in making amends did she reveal, my trauma triggered all her stuff from childhood. And she didn’t know how to handle it.

I know now, she did the best she could. And still I deserved better.  

So, we will fall down.

We’ll get it wrong, that’s part of being human, rupture, repair. 

Rinse and repeat.

I get it, we are programmed to protect ourselves from harm. And I’m basically telling you to move toward pain.

Yep. The pain is the only way through.

That’s the only thing that will actually make it better.

The next time someone’s pain makes you uncomfortable, you have a unique opportunity.

Get curious, ask, what’s coming up for you?

Offer a safe space to name their feelings, their anger, their grief or anything else.

Don’t ask them to rise about their emotions.

Emotions are data like anything else.

Encourage them to feel what they are feeling, be a safe space for them to express whatever needs to come out.

Don’t try to turn their loss into a learning experience, if they come to it on their own, that’s theirs, it’s not our job to make their trauma a teachable moment.

Today, I want to hold my 5 year-old self, cradle her and let her feel the loss of the brother she never knew. Let her feel all the big feels.

I want to tell her loss is complex and scary and let her know she’s gonna get through this.

Together. Me and her. We’ll get through.