“How to be Happy”: Reflections on Avoidance

Why are some of us comfortable with the topic of grief while most avoid it with every ounce of our being?

Back when I was working as a Bereavement Counselor, I scheduled a talk at a Senior Citizen Center. I was greeted by a confused receptionist who could not find my listing on the daily calendar. She called the Events Coordinator and said, “Oh yes, they put you in room 7B.” I found my way to the designated room but as I approached the door I became equally confused because the large A-frame sign sitting on the floor, outside the doorway read,

“How To Be Happy” 11:00 a.m.

I walked back to reception and more calls ensued. The coordinator was summoned and nervously explained that she didn’t think anyone would come if she used the word “grief.” But it was more than that. She feared her community would unravel if they touched upon the hard truths. She feared they would bring sadness to the lunchroom and infect the entire group. She couldn’t handle a day of sad Seniors.

I cannot imagine a community that needed it more. Yet this common avoidance is pervasive, and unfortunately shuts out many who need permission to talk. What she wasn’t seeing was that this was largely her discomfort; that in a room full of 70 and 80-year-olds, grief was the elephant in the room; and that suppression of emotions can lead to other problems (usually somatic) in the long run.

We changed the words on the whiteboard to read, “Grief Support”, announced it on the intercom, and waited while a dozen people found their way to the meeting. They shared poignant stories and profound insights about how their losses had shaped their lives. They extended kindness and compassion to each other. Members who had sat with each other in the lunchroom, at the bridge table, in the dance hall or painting class for years, now saw each other with new eyes. It did not usher in a shroud of gloom and doom, it offered a new intimacy and opportunity for bonding. There was a sharing of the kind of wisdom only the weathering of age can bring. There was nothing to fear.

My point, in telling this story is that our avoidance of openly discussing grief perpetuates a taboo that affects us and our children, on so many levels. I apologize if you came to this point in your reading expecting some snappy steps to happiness. I don’t believe it’s a realistic expectation in the early days of grief, though you can cultivate joy over time, with intention.

Why do we ignore another’s grief, tiptoe around the edges, and convince ourselves that they will talk about it if they want to? Simply because we feel inept. The time doesn’t feel right…ever. It is awkward. No one has taught us the skills we need to tolerate profound sadness and pain. Why do we deny our own grief, distract ourselves with busyness, and protect ourselves by isolating? The grief is still there. By minimizing and denying our own and each other’s pain, numbing our emotions with alcohol, food, or binge watching shows or electronic games, we perpetuate the avoidance. Experiencing sadness is a part of being human. So is joy. So is anger, resentment, and stress. So is kindness. So is grief.

It is instinctual to flee from pain. We fear experiencing it. We fear “catching” sadness as one catches a cold. No one has taught us how to shore up our boundaries to learn on a visceral level that we don’t have to carry or embody other people’s pain. Sensitivity is a gift that sometimes carries a price, but so does lack of sensitivity. Sensitivity is a remarkable barometer, a skill, a tool for navigating life. If we can approach the information it provides with curiosity rather than fear, we can harness its superpower.

Practicing boundary-setting skills can help us feel less vulnerable. Remaining open-hearted does not necessarily result in depletion. In order to keep one’s heart open and offer compassion, healers (as well as friends, partners, and family members who are making an effort to be supportive) can benefit from learning grounding skills and setting healthy and respectful limits. We cannot carry another’s grief for them. We can serve as a bright spot on their path. We must trust in the integrity of each individual to restore and to grow, to process at their own pace, with their own organic resources.

Don’t be afraid to ask your grieving friend or relative, “Where are you in your grief process now?” It offers them an opportunity to consider their growth. It offers them an opportunity to reflect. It offers them sincere concern and support. Your relationship can benefit.

It is okay to just sit with sadness, hold its hand and say hello. To overcome our discomfort we need practice and the confidence building that comes from small successes. We need to know that we can have the difficult conversations, and that we can learn to gradually increase our tolerance for emotional pain. It will shift and subside.

We avoid negative emotions from living in a culture that is grief phobic and does not offer awareness, from a lack of role models, from adverse childhood experiences. Society reinforces the “keep your chin up” and “look on the bright side” pose. Trying to put a silver lining or positive spin on deep pain is reductive, dismissive, and exhausting. Fending it off can be more exhausting than allowing. Fending it off for too long can allow it to build up and burst forth in unexpected ways at unpredictable times. We can reduce the impact of these surprising surges by making room for its presence in our lives.

Your grief will resurface through memories, dreams, and sensory associations. It will gently try to get your attention. If you ignore the little signs for too long it will knock a little louder. Try not to ignore it. Denial only works temporarily, and over-reliance on this coping mechanism can keep us stuck in lower developmental levels where our skills do not evolve. The cost to relationships is dear. Thanks to Brene Brown’s helpful talks, we know that you cannot selectively numb one emotion without numbing all.

Many of us are coping with grief, health problems, conflict in relationships, job loss, financial insecurity, etc. This is the path of humanity. Do not be afraid of grief for it comes bearing gifts of healing. It comes with lessons for the future, with choices of who and how you want to be.

Allow yourself time to grieve, then take breaks from it. Mix in play, mix in fun. Stir it up and move it out of the body, through exercise, talking, writing, and creative endeavors. Connect with the sacred in whichever way you can. Get outside and bask in the delights of nature. Pour love into all your relationships, including your pets, or your neighbors pets. Seek inspiration in readings, poetry, art, or music.

Release your emotions a little here and a little there, or have a good long cry if that calls you. You can set aside intentional time to remember, to miss them, to feel gratitude for what was once. Feel your sadness and then seek out the small things in life that bring you joy. Joy still exists, right alongside grief. It too is waiting for you to say hello to a full, deep, rich, and balanced life.