My sister was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis last spring. It’s been a tough year for her, dealing with painful symptoms, figuring out medication and side effects, going to doctor’s appointments, and learning life with a chronic illness.
I hate it for her. I hate it so much. I want to take it away, to make it better. I hate that she has to suffer and struggle, and I want to make it better for her. But I can’t, and I hate that too.It is hard to watch someone you love hurting and struggling, particularly with things that are not quickly or easily resolved. Most of life’s pain isn’t quick pain. Things like grief, divorce, illness, cancer, addiction, loss, and chronic illness are long-term struggles.
When someone we love is facing these things, they are facing them for an extended period, for days that turn into weeks and months and years.And we don’t always know what to do in those situations, we don’t always know how to love and support people who are facing extended or intense struggles.
I know I am still learning myself, figuring out how to support people I love who are facing significant losses or fighting battles that last a long time.
Often, there are very tangible things we can do. We can always bring a meal, send flowers, write a note, and watch someone’s kids. These are tangible, physical actions that can provide care and support to someone who is struggling. These acts will be just as meaningful (maybe even more) on day 372 of the struggle as they were on day 1.
We can learn about someone’s struggle and do the best we can to understand what they are facing. I knew nothing about RA when my sister was diagnosed, and learning about the disease has helped me to know what questions to ask and to have a better understanding of what she is dealing with.
But just as important as the physical actions that we take, we need to be mindful of the mindset we are assuming as we engage with someone who is struggling. People who are in hard seasons need to be seen and cared for, and they need people who can enter into the struggle with them and hold space for their pain.
There are a few principles that it can be helpful to remember when we are caring for someone who is hurting.
First, remember that our job is not to fix the person who is hurting. We aren’t their doctor and we are not the expert in their suffering. We cannot tell someone how they should grieve or how they should handle their loss or illness or pain. Suffering is always an intensely personal and unique process. When we try and educate them or offer solutions, we are dismissing their process.
It is also not our job to take away their pain. Oh, how I want to be able to take away people’s pain. But I cannot, and efforts to do so only end up invalidating and minimizing their hurt. It is not my job to fix someone’s pain; it is my job to be with them in it, to hold space for their pain, and to care for them.
Before I engage with someone who is hurting, I need to consciously set aside my need to fix and take away their pain. I need to intentionally choose a posture of care and to create space within myself to simply be with them in their pain.
The best way that I know to care for someone who is hurting is to let them know that I see their pain and that it matters to me, that they matter to me. Then I ask them what they need. Sometimes they know and sometimes they don’t. Either way is fine. Sometimes I can help them meet the need, and sometimes I can’t. Either way is fine.
But holding space for their pain and their process communicates love and caring.
It helps me to remember that it is not my job to fix or take away the pain. My job is to love them when they are hurting, to hold space for their pain, and to present with them.
