Being a helpful grief supporter is not for the timid, but often, even the courageous wonder how to support others well. We fear causing more harm, saying the wrong thing or forgetting something important to them. So this week, we’re going to review how to talk with someone who is grieving. Sounds simple enough, right? But the idea is equal parts simple and far more complex than we realize.
When I start to think about griefy moments and how to speak up on behalf of someone else, I am taken first to the idea of the window of tolerance. For those of you who are familiar with my work, you know the principle of the window of tolerance is crucial for self-awareness and growth.
We’ve talked about the autonomic nervous system before, but let’s quickly recap. Your ANS is responsible for scanning your environment for threats and pushing forward what it deems an appropriate response. The wider open your window, the greater tolerance and support you have internally for a threat, or demanding/stressful situation.
In times when life feels steady, our windows fluctuate open and closed on a regular basis. The dysregulation of fight or flight mode (a narrower window) occurs when a threat is perceived. In that instance, our window narrows and our bodies scan for safety, quickly choosing the best way to get into perceived safety. Whether that is a fight, a flight, a fawn, or other safety response, our body will often perceive a threat where none exists (thanks trauma and early relationship training).
As we grieve, our windows are narrower on a regular basis. The “wide open” state of connection doesn’t feel as accessible. Which also means there are more perceived threats to our wellness, and more opportunities for us to walk away and shut down the conversations that don’t feel like safety, security, or belonging.
With all that context (thanks for sticking with me), let’s dive into what to say to a person who is grieving.
What can we offer to the person in pain – in need of a reminder of their safety, security, and belonging?
Nothing.
Our role is not to be the encourager who offers scriptures and pithy quotes.
Our role is not to be the comforter who explains the purpose of their pain.
Our role is not to be the lifter who identifies silver linings and hope in the moment.
When scriptures and explanations and silver linings are offered to the grieving human with a narrow window of tolerance, what sounds like hope to you sounds like criticism in so many ways.
As grief literate people, we are offering our presence first and foremost. Our time. Our openness. A narrow window of tolerance doesn’t find safety and openness because someone says, “Trust me – I’ve been where you are and know what it’s like!” That’s a cognitive exercise asking someone to believe your words. And for the right person and trusting relationship, they may. But most people will experience your words as a judgment over their understanding of safety and processing of their grief…which is pretty unfair, considering that our bodies are the ones scanning for safety. Our minds and hearts and even spirits take a back seat when the body does not feel safe or regulated.
What you offer with your quiet presence, on the other hand, is co-regulation. Your nervous system has a chance to remain open and present with another person, offering the very comfort you think your words provide.
Our role is to hold space for another person to experience safety in their bodies, which allows their nervous system to notice again what safety feels like. To experience that more than once? That’s when a nervous system sends the sensations of security, and trust begins to build.
We don’t trust certain people in our grief circles because they say all the right things – myself included on both sides of that equation. We trust them because we experience evidence of their trustworthiness and care through their actions and their consistency.
The only way we can develop trustworthiness is through spending time together. It is the most generous gift of time – oo our presence – of our willingness to sit in the discomfort of grief and remain with our friend who asks us to stay.
What we say is, “I am here with you as much as you’ll have me. I’m okay being uncomfortable and sitting with you if that helps. I’ll go with you to appointments. I’ll help clean your home. I’ll offer my time in whatever way that matters.”
Why is that love? Because love does?
Because love costs us something. Sharing a scripture or a pithy poem is easy – it’s often insightful and probably helps for a split second before time crashes back in to remind us what is missing.
Love for a griever looks like spending your time with intention.
There will be times that a griever wants to hear your story or your opinion. And when that time arises, you’ll know – because they’ll ask you. Some ask early in their grief. Again, that speaks to their relationship to you and their sense of belonging with you. Be gentle here; this is still a tender space where your words can break connection, too. But when you move toward a griever with an open heart, willing to learn from them and their experience instead of talking at them in their grief, you will experience the same love you want to offer in return.
Grief is not an easy experience to navigate. Grievers often report the secondary losses of community and connections because of the discomfort of their pain. We simply do not know how to tolerate the intensity of grief – whether it is our story or not.
As you continue to offer your time instead of your wisdom to grievers, however, your own tolerance for discomfort will grow. Instead of platitudes to decrease the tension, you’ll learn to acknowledge the tension in the room with compassionate, open arms. Your loved ones in grief will see your willingness to stay in the pain with them as a soothing presence, with or without words of encouragement.
And when you realize it’s been months of grieving with the person, and still they remain open to you regardless of how much “progress” they seem to be making, you will find yourself grateful for the willingness to remain.
I will also say this – you may find yourself equally frustrated at the timing and duration of their loss. That’s a flag to you – that is your own nervous system struggling to remain regulated and open. Make space for yourself to rest and recover from the intensity of being a grief supporter. If anyone would understand, it’s the person grieving.
This is another strong reason why when it comes to grief support, we offer clearly what we can provide and what we cannot. We do not teach the person to rely on our words and wisdom to heal, but to experience their own story and uncover the wisdom within it. For when we grow weary and need a break, we don’t want our grievers to suddenly feel unsupported, either.
Healthy boundaries, which we’ve discussed many times, are crucial for managing the overwhelm of tasks, emotions, fatigue, and demands. Verbalizing those boundaries is an act of love and generosity – not withholding.
It is necessary to let a griever know what you can and cannot bring to their experience. I think of the relief pitcher in baseball. They’re always on deck, remaining warm and ready for the moment the in-game pitcher needs a break. As a griever, let your person know when you need them to step in for pivotal moments in life. Offering practical care tasks as a way to support you is a return generosity. You send a clear message that you don’t need their wisdom or words as often as you need their time. Whether that time is spent sat next to you on the couch or singing pop songs while they scrub your kitchen floor.
Our time is what we offer. Not our words. Not our insights. Not our favorite books. Not until they’re asked for. Our nervous systems are looking for attunement – someone to hear and see and know and love them and remain with them in the moments of stress or fear. The more we offer that safety and attunement to ourselves, and meet our own needs, the more acutely we will offer unspoken safety, security, and space for belonging to grievers, too.
Thank you for listening to episode 168 of Restorative Grief. This is one of my most commonly asked questions as a grief educator. How can I be with people who are grieving? It’s too scary, uncomfortable. I don’t want to hurt them but I don’t know what to say. Learning that our words are not the most powerful gift we can offer someone in grief is a lifelong lesson for some. I am wary and mindful of myself in this work for this very reason. As a writer, it would be easy to believe my written or spoken word is the best I can do, but without attunement and presence, my words are like a clanging gong.
If this is your first time listening to the podcast, I’m grateful you’re ending the year on this note with me. Setting your sights on grief education and understanding in the coming year is a gift for YOU as well; one that you will never regret opening. Be sure to subscribe and listen in weekly, as some of the guests and essays coming up are going to blow you away. The option to become a Patron and support this work with a small financial gift is also available with plenty of thank you gifts from me in return. Check out the show notes for links to the Patreon, the coaching group, and more.
And as always, before we go, one last thing. Please remember, the only solution for grief is to do the work of grieving. Thank you for listening. I’ll see you next week.
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