I'm listening to a man tell a story. A woman he knows was in a devastating car accident, and now she lives in a state of near-permanent pain; a paraplegic, many of her hopes stolen.
I've heard it a million times before, but it never stops shocking me: He tells her that he thinks the tragedy had led to positive changes in her life. He utters the words that are nothing less than emotional, spiritual, and psychological violence:
"Everything happens for a reason."
He tells her that this was something that had to happen in order for her to grow. But that's the kind of bullshit that destroys lives. And it's categorically untrue.
After all these years working with people in pain as an advisor and adversity strategist, it still amazes me that these myths persist despite the fact that they're nothing more than platitudes cloaked as sophistication. And worst of all, they keep us from doing the one thing we must do when our lives are turned upside down: grieve.
Here's the reality: As my mentor Megan Devine has so beautifully said: 'Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.'
Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve.
Losing a child cannot be fixed. Being diagnosed with a debilitating illness cannot be fixed. Facing the betrayal of your closest confidante cannot be fixed. These things can only be carried.
Let me be clear: If you've faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way that your tragedy was meant to be, happened for a reason, will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life.
Yes, devastation can lead to growth, but it often doesn't. It often destroys lives — in part becausewe've replaced grieving with advice. With platitudes.
I now live an extraordinary life. I've been deeply blessed by the opportunities I've had and the radically unconventional life I've built for myself.
But loss has not in and of itself made me a better person. In fact, in some ways it's hardened me.
While loss has made me acutely aware and empathetic of the pains of others, it's also made me more inclined to hide. I have a more cynical view of human nature and a greater impatience with people who are unfamiliar with what loss does to people.
By unleashing platitudes and "fixes" on those we claim to love, we deny them the right to grieve.
Above all, I've been left with a pervasive survivor's guilt that has haunted me all my life. In short, my pain has never gone away, I've just learned to channel it into my work with others. But to say that my losses somehow had to happen in order for my gifts to grow would be to trample on the memories of all those I lost too young, all those who suffered needlessly, and all those who faced the same trials I did but who did not make it.
I'm simply not going to do that. I'm not going to assume that God ordained me for life instead of all the others, just so that I could do what I do now. And I'm certainly not going to pretend that I've made it simply because I was strong enough, that I became "successful" because I "took responsibility."
I think people tell others to take responsibility when they don't want to understand.
Understanding is harder than posturing. Telling someone to “take responsibility" for their loss is a form of benevolent masturbation. It's the inverse of inspirational porn: It's sanctimonious porn.
Personal responsibility implies that there's something to take responsibility for. You don't take responsibility for being raped or losing your child. You take responsibility for how you choose to live in the wake of the horrors that confront you, but you don't choose whether you grieve. We're not that smart or powerful. When hell visits us, we don't get to escape grieving.
This is why all the platitudes and focus on “fixes" are so dangerous: by unleashing them on those we claim to love, we deny them the right to grieve.
In so doing, we deny them the right to be human. We steal a bit of their freedom precisely when they're standing at the intersection of their greatest fragility and despair.
The irony is that the only thing that even can be "responsible" amid loss is grieving.
I've grieved many times in my life. I've been overwhelmed with shame so strong it nearly killed me. The ones who helped — the only ones who helped — were those who were simply there.
I am here — I have lived — because they chose to love me. They loved me in their silence, in their willingness to suffer with me and alongside me. They loved me in their desire to be as uncomfortable, as destroyed, as I was, if only for a week, an hour, even just a few minutes. Most people have no idea how utterly powerful this is.
Healing and transformation can occur. But not if you're not allowed to grieve. Because grief itself is not an obstacle.
Healing and transformation can occur. But not if you're not allowed to grieve. Because grief itself is not an obstacle.
The obstacles come later. The choices as to how to live, how to carry what we have lost, how to weave a new mosaic for ourselves? Those come in the wake of grief.
Yet our culture treats grief like a problem to be solved or an illness to be healed. We've done everything we can to avoid, ignore, or transform grief. So that now, when you're faced with tragedy, you usually find that you're no longer surrounded by people — you're surrounded by platitudes.
So what do we offer instead of "everything happens for a reason"?
The last thing a person devastated by grief needs is advice. Their world has been shattered. Inviting someone — anyone — into their world is an act of great risk. To try to fix, rationalize, or wash away their pain only deepens their terror.
Instead, the most powerful thing you can do is acknowledge. To literally say the words:
I acknowledge your pain. I'm here with you.
Note that I said with you, not for you. For implies that you're going to do something. That's not for you to enact. But to stand with your loved one, to suffer with them, to do everything but something is incredibly powerful.
There is no greater act for others than acknowledgment.
And that requires no training, no special skills — just the willingness to be present and to stay present, as long as is necessary.
Be there. Only be there. Don't leave when you feel uncomfortable or when you feel like you're not doing anything. In fact, it's when you feel uncomfortable and like you're not doing anything that you must stay.
I acknowledge your pain. I'm here with you.
Because it's in those places — in the shadows of horror we rarely allow ourselves to enter — where the beginnings of healing are found. This healing is found when we have others who are willing to enter that space alongside us. Every grieving person on earth needs these people.
I beg you, be one of these people.
You are more needed than you will ever know. And when you find yourself in need of those people, find them. I guarantee they are there.
Everyone else can go.
- Author whose son died 14 years ago has words of hope for those who have lost loved ones - Upworthy ›
- Psychologist's 'Ring Theory' can help you not say the wrong thing to people in grief - Upworthy ›
- Zoom memorials highlight the ironic cruelty of trying to mourn together during the pandemic - Upworthy ›
- Surfer takes the names of people's lost loved ones out for 'one last wave' ›
- Surfer takes the names of people's lost loved ones out for 'one last wave' - Upworthy ›
- A woman with a disability gets real about dating and sex. She's funny and honest. - Upworthy ›
- A woman with a disability gets real about dating and sex. She's funny and honest. - Upworthy ›
12 non-threatening leadership strategies for women
We mustn't hurt a man's feelings.
Men and the feels.
Note: This an excerpt is from Sarah Cooper's book, How to Be Successful Without Hurting Men's Feelings.
In this fast-paced business world, female leaders need to make sure they're not perceived as pushy, aggressive, or competent.
One way to do that is to alter your leadership style to account for the fragile male ego.
Should men accept powerful women and not feel threatened by them? Yes. Is that asking too much?
IS IT?
Sorry, I didn't mean to get aggressive there. Anyhoo, here are twelve non-threatening leadership strategies for women.
Encourage.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When setting a deadline, ask your coworker what he thinks of doing something, instead of just asking him to get it done. This makes him feel less like you're telling him what to do and more like you care about his opinions.
Sharing ideas.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When sharing your ideas, overconfidence is a killer. You don't want your male coworkers to think you're getting all uppity. Instead, downplay your ideas as just "thinking out loud," "throwing something out there," or sharing something "dumb," "random," or "crazy."
Email requests.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Pepper your emails with exclamation marks and emojis so you don't come across as too clear or direct. Your lack of efficient communication will make you seem more approachable.
Idea sharing.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
If a male coworker steals your idea in a meeting, thank him for it. Give him kudos for how he explained your idea so clearly. And let's face it, no one might've ever heard it if he hadn't repeated it.
Sexism.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When you hear a sexist comment, the awkward laugh is key. Practice your awkward laugh at home, with your friends and family, and in the mirror. Make sure you sound truly delighted even as your soul is dying inside.
Mansplain.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Men love explaining things. But when he's explaining something and you already know that, it might be tempting to say, "I already know that." Instead, have him explain it to you over and over again. It will make him feel useful and will give you some time to think about how to avoid him in the future.
Mistakes.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Pointing out a mistake is always risky so it's important to always apologize for noticing the mistake and then make sure that no one thinks you're too sure about it. People will appreciate your "hey what do I know?!" sensibilities.
Promotions.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Asking your manager for a promotion could make you seem power- hungry, opportunistic, and transparent. Instead, ask a male coworker to vouch for you. Have your coworker tell your manager you'd be great for the role even though you don't really want it. This will make you more likely to actually get that promotion.
Rude.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Sometimes not everyone is properly introduced at the start of a meeting. Don't take it personally even if it happens to you all the time, and certainly don't stop the meeting from moving forward to introduce yourself. Sending a quick note afterward is the best way to introduce yourself without seeming too self-important.
Interruptions.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When you get interrupted, you might be tempted to just continue talking or even ask if you can finish what you were saying. This is treacherous territory. Instead, simply stop talking. The path of least resistance is silence.
Collaboration.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When collaborating with a man, type using only one finger. Skill and speed are very off-putting.
Disagreements.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When all else fails, wear a mustache so everyone sees you as more man-like. This will cancel out any need to change your leadership style. In fact, you may even get a quick promotion!
In conclusion...
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Many women have discovered the secret power of non-threatening leadership. We call it a "secret power" because no one else actually knows about it. We keep our power hidden within ourselves so that it doesn't frighten and intimidate others. That's what makes us the true unsung heroes of the corporate world.
About the Author: Sarah Cooper
Sarah Cooper is a writer, comedian, and author of 100 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings. Her new book, How to Be Successful Without Hurting Men's Feelings, is out now.
The comedic book cover.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
A satirical take on what it's like to be a woman in the workplace, Cooper draws from her experience as a former executive in the world of tech (she's a former Googler and Yahooer). You can get the book here.
This article was originally published on March 25, 2019.