I’ve felt embarrassed about my kids’ poor sleep for years. I will hear people talk about their infant sleeping through the night and immediately feel a rush of anxiety. What if people hear how poorly my kids sleep and think I’m a bad parent? What if you, right now, reading this, are thinking I’m a bad parent?

 

I wasn’t always reluctant to talk about these things. I can remember freely sharing my exhaustion and frustration in my early months and years as a mom. I had read literally every book and researched every resource I could find. I had tried everything, including a few methods that felt totally incongruent with my philosophy of parenting. And nothing worked.

 

When I would tell people about our sleep struggles, I would get overflowing buckets of advice. Advice that sounded like “You just need to read this book and do exactly what it says.” “You just need to let them cry it out.” “It’s simple learned behavior.” “You just need to change your bedtime routine.” You just, you just, you just.

 

And I would get so discouraged and defeated. First of all, did people really think I hadn’t tried those things? That I hadn’t spent a million hours googling and reading every book written on the topic? Was there something wrong with me or wrong with my kids that we couldn’t figure it out?

 

I eventually came to a sort of peace on the subject. My husband and I are intelligent and capable human beings. We know our children and, when appropriate, we work with our doctors. We have explored resources and figured out what works for us and what fits with how we understand child development and how we feel led to parent. So I stopped talking about it.

 

I eventually realized that it was the “just” that shut me down. It was the “just” that communicated shame. Once I became aware of it, I started to hear how often people use that little word. I started to catch myself saying it too. It wasn’t only me and it wasn’t only in regards to sleep issues. Just is everywhere, and it quickly became one of my least favorite four-letter words.

 

When we say, “why don’t you just….,” we are dramatically oversimplifying something that is very complex to the person living it out. We are implying that there is a simple solution that the person hasn’t thought of or tried.

 

If there was a simple solution, they probably would have found it.

 

Most of the time, when people share a struggle or difficulty that they are facing, they don’t want advice. Most people are intelligent and capable and think of the obvious (and not so obvious) solutions to try. They are doing the very best that they can, and by the time they communicate the struggle, they are already frustrated and discouraged.

 

When we share our discouragement and frustration, we are looking for support. We are looking for someone to communicate care and concern, to validate that what we are facing is hard and challenging. We are looking for reminders that we are loved and valued in the midst of the struggle. We want to know that we are not alone.

 

Sometimes, we may be looking for advice too, though I think this is fairly rare. If someone is sharing a struggle with you, pause before you offer advice. Have they asked for it? If not, maybe hold back.

 

If you feel like you have something to offer, ask them if they are interested in hearing your opinion or experience. If they are, start by asking questions that communicate respect. Say, “what have you tried so far?” Then offer your experience. Share it respectfully, expressing that what you think or what worked for you will not work for everyone. Be sure that any advice always comes with lots of support and heaps of openness and validation.

 

When we use the word “just,” we often inadvertently communicate shame and condescension. We dismiss the very real complexity of the situation the other person is walking through. It’s only four small letters, but it can pack a powerful punch, particularly when repeated as often as it is in our every day discussions.

 

Let’s just stop using the word just when we process struggles with people we love.