Disclosure: Surviving the holidays Part III of III
Dear Reader,
Grief (particularly during times of joy and celebration) is often experienced as a kind of isolation. Being alone can feel safer or more appropriate than attempting to mingle, network, or connect. This self-quarantine can be exacerbated by others’ fear of bringing up something that could upset us. How are you? is usually meant as a declaration of concern, not an actual query. We may instinctively protect ourselves by not sharing our truth even when it iswelcomed.
In addition, mourners can feel pressure to be over it already. Or might not want to risk making anyone else uncomfortable.
Even when we avoid saying what’s going on, our communal species is designed to communicate our emotions anyway. Our facial expressions and body language send signals to an individual we’re talking to non-verbally. These physical intonations convey emotions that are dying to be recognized. By disclosing our truth to a secure connection we are open to attunement – our verbal message and our body language are in harmony allowing for co-regulation.
What’s co-regulation?
During co-regulation, an emotionally distressed individual will stabilize based on the body language, facial expressions, and mirroring of a friend who is listening.
It’s important to find a person (a friend, a family member, a therapist, a kind stranger at the gas station…) who can be a secure connection. Someone who:
Will listen without interrupting
Won’t try to “fix” or “figure out” our emotions
Won’t give us (unsolicited) advice for our situation
Will mirror our pain and then give us a sympathetic signal
These are the keys to holding space for one another — the simple and rather natural reactions that allow us to be vulnerable without humiliation, rejection, or disconnection.
When I do want feedback, I ask. A friend I’m sharing with may help me see a takeaway that is more healing and appropriate (they can help me avoid globalizing) or they might identify with my experience (they help me avoid personalizing). Disclosure is vital to my emotional processing.
Death is universal
I was recently introduced to the Buddhist story of Kisagotami. Her young son died of a snake bite and in her grief Kisagotami carried his body from healer to healer begging for medicine to help. Every person told her There’s nothing I can do, until a wise man sent her to the Buddha. The Buddha told Kisagotami he could change her situation if she could bring him three mustard seeds (the equivalent of three grains of salt, today). The catch was that the seeds had to come from a household who had never experienced death. Kisagotami was hopeful, going door to door explaining her situation. Each family wanted to help, but one after the other had experienced loss, grief, death. Eventually she saw she was not alone. Death is universal and her fellow mourners were everywhere. She returned to the Buddha, enlightened, to become one of his first nuns.
The universality of death and loss alleviate the personalization (why me?). When we see that everyone experiences this, we see we are not alone. Loss connects me to every other person. Here’s the catch: I can only see that I’m universally connected to others’ experiences when I’m willing to share my own story, my own emotional state, my own present. There’s another twist to all this: when I’m honest about my sad moments I’m open to spontaneous joy, happiness and relief.
Good luck during your holiday adventures this year, Dear Reader.
