We are not all OK
It’s time to lean into our suffering
Literally everyone I know is suffering. Even though the world is starting to open up again, many of us are still feeling the loss of our old lives and freedoms, the intense fatigue of the last two and a half years on Zoom and the fear of our uncertain futures. And while our natural tendency is to want to get rid of the discomfort and make ourselves feel better, what we really need to do is lean into what we are experiencing.
Eighteen years ago, when my husband was diagnosed with Stage 3 colon cancer, we had a six-month-old and a four-year-old. I woke up every day with a sense of dread that followed me around. It was like having a bad case of the flu lodged in my heart and stomach that never seemed to get better. I tried to tell myself everything would be fine and that I needed to be positive for my family, but the more I tried to push away the feeling, the worse it got.
Seeing how much I was struggling, one day my husband handed me a book — When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön, a Buddhist nun, author and teacher. The book did not end my suffering. But it did help me stop trying to outsmart my pain and accept my current situation for what it was — crappy.
What seemed to me like counterintuitive advice at the time was incredibly freeing. The more I let myself feel bad, the less awful it felt. Pema had given me permission to feel sad and scared, without trying to fix it. She showed me that I could be open and compassionate with myself and make friends with my suffering. She showed me how to lean in.
I am happy to report that my husband survived his cancer and I learned a whole new approach to dealing with the pain and suffering that continues to ebb and flow in my life. I also became aware of the opportunity to help others lean into their own emotions.
Most of us are raised to think that helping others to forget their pain is a kindness, a nice thing to do. The problem with this notion is that in our efforts to take away the pain, we make it harder for them to accept it and make peace with it. In essence, we increase their suffering.
For instance, I have stopped telling people that “everything will be OK.” I realized that it is the equivalent of telling someone to snap out of it or buck up. This does not open people up or make them feel heard. It shuts them down. And it’s the opposite of comforting when you are upset.
When my friend broke down and told me that her son had been diagnosed with Asperger’s at the age of four, I had never seen her so devastated. All I wanted to do was make her feel better. Instead, I told her how sorry I was. I tried my best to sit with her in her sadness. I did not try to make it better. There was no making it better at that moment. I leaned in with her.
I have also stopped saying “I know how you feel.” When my husband was sick, there were a surprising number of people who said this to me and then proceeded to share their own cancer war story (about a brother, an aunt or a family friend). This just made me feel worse and that they clearly did not understand the depth of my suffering.
Pat phrases like “look on the bright side” or “if it’s any consolation” are also not useful, especially when followed with an example of someone who you think is worse off. Sure, the story of the woman from your gym who just lost her job and her dog in the same week may seem worse than the situation your friend has found herself in. But that’s not the point. The point is we are all entitled to our suffering, whatever form it takes.
I found Pema’s words so powerful that, over the years, I have shared them with others going through a tough time. When a neighbour confided in me that he was on leave from work due to a breakdown, I dropped off a copy of the book with a note telling him how sorry I was for his suffering.
A few days later, he showed up at my door and stood there silently for a few minutes, with tears in his eyes. As I stood there, pondering what to say, he stepped towards me, arms outstretched, and gave me a big hug. And, so, in turn, I did the only thing that felt right in that moment: I just leaned right in.