How *should* you react? Coping with grief, stress, and difficulty
I've been having a few conversations this week about what people *should* do in what can only be described as terrible situations. Grief, loss, stress, life upheavals... things that make us go "AAAARRGHHHHH". There's a whole host of ideas about what we *should* do and how we *should* behave and we tend to dole that advice out to ourselves quite regularly, even if we don't do it to other people.
(Advance apologies for the length of this blog. I appreciate you choosing to give your time to read it.)
I really dislike the word *should*. We need it because it describes appropriate behaviour, without which society would be much less organised and wouldn't really function. Imagine yourself in any social situation with a young child (or a dog) who doesn't understand what they should do - imagine the chaos of trying to explain the social and behavioural boundaries to the child, or dog. These things we take for granted are implicit rules we have learned over time so that society runs (relatively) smoothly and we don't have to exert huge amounts of brainpower trying to figure out what to do.
So, *should* is necessary.
As with most things though, over-application tends to cause trouble.
Over-application of *should's* tend to be used critically. Although it can be directed at other people, I want to focus on what happens when we direct it at ourselves, because self-criticism is an inescapable attack.
Think of the last time something happened to you that was related to stress, grief, or another difficulty. How did you cope? What did your internal narrative say? Was there a time during that situation that you thought or felt, "I *should* be doing X differently" or, "This isn't how I *should* be doing this", or "*shouldn't* I be handling this like so-and-so did?" or, "Is this how normal people deal with this?"
(that last one is my favourite... what the **** is normal?!)
The strange thing about what I do (psychotherapy) is that, on the one hand, I love to question what's happening with your thoughts and, on the other hand, I love to see you accept yourself without endless criticism. So although I think it's great to see you questioning your behaviour or thoughts with questions about whether you're doing the right thing, sometimes these thoughts can go too far and drive you into self-critical attacks, which adversely affect your mental health.
Lets move away from the abstract and use a concrete example of a time when I had *should* thoughts during a process of grieving...
My cousin Nicky (40yo) who lived in England was diagnosed with a rare form of terminal cancer that claimed her life less than a year after diagnosis. When I was 6, I moved from England to Australia and have lived here ever since. I was about 14 when I went back to England and properly 'met' Nicky, because I didn't have a good memory of her from before we left. I kept in contact via social media and text, and went back every few years. I spent my first (to my memory) and last Christmas with her in 2015. Despite our age difference, we were close and very similar - especially with quirks like not liking different foods touching on our plates, and curling our hair when we got tired (which my son does too)!
When she died, I felt strange. Someone so important to me had passed away but nothing in my day-to-day routine had changed. It wasn't like being back in England with the rest of my family, where I imagine time would've stopped and the world would have been forever altered. It took a few hours for me to cry, but when it happened I completely broke down into a soggy mess.
(That's how a client of mine describes breakdowns. I love the accuracy. She would've done too)
Then I just felt lost, a bit empty, but still strange - I kept thinking, "*shouldn't* I be crying more? *shouldn't* I feel like the world has collapsed?". I felt sort of hollow. I booked in for a memorial tattoo and then got back to business. I had the kids to look after and 2 jobs to do, plus a house to run. I still felt strange, but I felt like I could function... which is not how I imagine I would react if someone who was geographically (as well as emotionally) close to me had died. I started to wonder if I didn't care. I started to wonder if I was a shit person.
In the days leading up to my tattoo appointment, I kept seeing things that reminded me of Nicky and I would go to text her about them (this still happens). It's like I'd forgotten she wasn't there anymore. Which is terrible, right? (That's what we tell ourselves... As though there's a 'proper' way to grieve). Then I remembered she wasn't there and that hollow feeling came back. Maybe it was denial? Maybe I was repressing the emotion? Repression is something I became very adept at a few years ago, so it seemed reasonable that I may be using it as a coping mechanism.
When I got my tattoo done, I felt whole again. It was like a weight had been lifted off me. There was something material, tangible, to attach to my grief. I could keep her with me; carry her spirit around with me. That's the thing about Nicky, she was the kind of person you wanted to know. She had such a light and energy and kindness to her. She always tried to find the best in people and would persist with people she wasn't keen on until she found something she liked and could connect with them on. I'm not really like that - I was raised by a very judgemental mother and my first instinct is often *judge*... then I rethink it and consciously decide who I want to be.
(That's hard to admit given I'm a therapist and I *should* probably be empathic from the get-go. But if I can't admit who I am and be authentic with others, why would people share their darkest stories with me?)
So this way I get to keep her spirit with me. I like to think she has seen it and is checking in on me every so often. Which is also a contradiction given I'm not really religious and I'm not sure I believe in Heaven... but I was a huge fan of Charmed when I was growing up so I suppose I'm still confused on that one...
ANYWAY. Sorry.
What I am trying to get at is: Would you feel as though I was doing something wrong in my grieving process? Was it strange that I didn't cry for days or that my life didn't stop completely? *Should* I have done it differently?
Maybe you do. I'd actually love to hear your thoughts if you'd like to comment.
Being prompted to think about it by my conversations this week has brought me to the conclusion that, given the circumstances, the *should's* served the purpose of criticising myself. I was struggling with Nicky's death, but not in the typical can't-function-endless-crying-world-stops sort of way. I was lost, and there was emptiness, but I wasn't crying endlessly. The *should's* were only serving to amplify my distress and divert my attention away from what had happened - for me, it was easier to self-criticise than it was to address the fact that my beautiful cousin was gone. Especially because my day-to-day life hadn't changed much (e.g. I know I won't bump into her at the shops or a family dinner, because that's never happened). That's why I chose to get my tattoo. It was my way of channeling my grief and carrying her memory with me. It stopped me from self-critically *should-ing* and allowed me to remember her and live in a way that keeps her alive.
So, back to you...
You may be going through something now, or have gone through something recently, where you accusatorially criticised yourself for not doing what you *should* do. Maybe the things you were doing were destructive or not helpful, OR maybe they were serving a purpose for you at that time, so you could process the information and work through it at your own pace.
For example... (This one's not about me, I promise)
One way of coping with grief is distraction. *Should* you be focusing on the issue instead of distracting yourself? Not necessarily. Distraction allows you to attend to the issue slowly, at a pace you can cope with, so you don't collapse and can still function. It can become destructive in the long run if you overuse that coping mechanism, but it may be effective in reorienting yourself in the short-term.
Gratitude journals, for example, are distractions: they divert focus away from the negative parts of the day to the positive. Is that distraction bad? I don't believe so. However, consistently seeking the positive and never allowing the negative in could get you into (mental) trouble.
Like food, everything is good in moderation!
Our coping mechanisms exist because they help us feel safer. It's a long explanation (get in touch if you want to discuss) but things like distraction, repression, addiction, etc., are behaviours that have somehow helped you handle your life in the past. Whether they continue to be useful in your present is up for debate, but I guarantee that self-criticising with *should's* is unlikely to be useful... instead, those serve as a psychological attack where you become your own (inescapable) worst enemy.
I know this has been long, so I appreciate you sticking around to read it.
What I'd like you to take away is that there really isn't much utility in asking yourself "*should* I do X differently?" when you're grieving or stressing or struggling... It tends to serve the purpose of psychological self-harm.
Try:
Oh, and as always... Be kind to yourself, please!
(Advance apologies for the length of this blog. I appreciate you choosing to give your time to read it.)
I really dislike the word *should*. We need it because it describes appropriate behaviour, without which society would be much less organised and wouldn't really function. Imagine yourself in any social situation with a young child (or a dog) who doesn't understand what they should do - imagine the chaos of trying to explain the social and behavioural boundaries to the child, or dog. These things we take for granted are implicit rules we have learned over time so that society runs (relatively) smoothly and we don't have to exert huge amounts of brainpower trying to figure out what to do.
So, *should* is necessary.
As with most things though, over-application tends to cause trouble.
Over-application of *should's* tend to be used critically. Although it can be directed at other people, I want to focus on what happens when we direct it at ourselves, because self-criticism is an inescapable attack.
Think of the last time something happened to you that was related to stress, grief, or another difficulty. How did you cope? What did your internal narrative say? Was there a time during that situation that you thought or felt, "I *should* be doing X differently" or, "This isn't how I *should* be doing this", or "*shouldn't* I be handling this like so-and-so did?" or, "Is this how normal people deal with this?"
(that last one is my favourite... what the **** is normal?!)
The strange thing about what I do (psychotherapy) is that, on the one hand, I love to question what's happening with your thoughts and, on the other hand, I love to see you accept yourself without endless criticism. So although I think it's great to see you questioning your behaviour or thoughts with questions about whether you're doing the right thing, sometimes these thoughts can go too far and drive you into self-critical attacks, which adversely affect your mental health.
Lets move away from the abstract and use a concrete example of a time when I had *should* thoughts during a process of grieving...
My cousin Nicky (40yo) who lived in England was diagnosed with a rare form of terminal cancer that claimed her life less than a year after diagnosis. When I was 6, I moved from England to Australia and have lived here ever since. I was about 14 when I went back to England and properly 'met' Nicky, because I didn't have a good memory of her from before we left. I kept in contact via social media and text, and went back every few years. I spent my first (to my memory) and last Christmas with her in 2015. Despite our age difference, we were close and very similar - especially with quirks like not liking different foods touching on our plates, and curling our hair when we got tired (which my son does too)!
When she died, I felt strange. Someone so important to me had passed away but nothing in my day-to-day routine had changed. It wasn't like being back in England with the rest of my family, where I imagine time would've stopped and the world would have been forever altered. It took a few hours for me to cry, but when it happened I completely broke down into a soggy mess.
(That's how a client of mine describes breakdowns. I love the accuracy. She would've done too)
Then I just felt lost, a bit empty, but still strange - I kept thinking, "*shouldn't* I be crying more? *shouldn't* I feel like the world has collapsed?". I felt sort of hollow. I booked in for a memorial tattoo and then got back to business. I had the kids to look after and 2 jobs to do, plus a house to run. I still felt strange, but I felt like I could function... which is not how I imagine I would react if someone who was geographically (as well as emotionally) close to me had died. I started to wonder if I didn't care. I started to wonder if I was a shit person.
In the days leading up to my tattoo appointment, I kept seeing things that reminded me of Nicky and I would go to text her about them (this still happens). It's like I'd forgotten she wasn't there anymore. Which is terrible, right? (That's what we tell ourselves... As though there's a 'proper' way to grieve). Then I remembered she wasn't there and that hollow feeling came back. Maybe it was denial? Maybe I was repressing the emotion? Repression is something I became very adept at a few years ago, so it seemed reasonable that I may be using it as a coping mechanism.
When I got my tattoo done, I felt whole again. It was like a weight had been lifted off me. There was something material, tangible, to attach to my grief. I could keep her with me; carry her spirit around with me. That's the thing about Nicky, she was the kind of person you wanted to know. She had such a light and energy and kindness to her. She always tried to find the best in people and would persist with people she wasn't keen on until she found something she liked and could connect with them on. I'm not really like that - I was raised by a very judgemental mother and my first instinct is often *judge*... then I rethink it and consciously decide who I want to be.
(That's hard to admit given I'm a therapist and I *should* probably be empathic from the get-go. But if I can't admit who I am and be authentic with others, why would people share their darkest stories with me?)
So this way I get to keep her spirit with me. I like to think she has seen it and is checking in on me every so often. Which is also a contradiction given I'm not really religious and I'm not sure I believe in Heaven... but I was a huge fan of Charmed when I was growing up so I suppose I'm still confused on that one...
ANYWAY. Sorry.
What I am trying to get at is: Would you feel as though I was doing something wrong in my grieving process? Was it strange that I didn't cry for days or that my life didn't stop completely? *Should* I have done it differently?
Maybe you do. I'd actually love to hear your thoughts if you'd like to comment.
Being prompted to think about it by my conversations this week has brought me to the conclusion that, given the circumstances, the *should's* served the purpose of criticising myself. I was struggling with Nicky's death, but not in the typical can't-function-endless-crying-world-stops sort of way. I was lost, and there was emptiness, but I wasn't crying endlessly. The *should's* were only serving to amplify my distress and divert my attention away from what had happened - for me, it was easier to self-criticise than it was to address the fact that my beautiful cousin was gone. Especially because my day-to-day life hadn't changed much (e.g. I know I won't bump into her at the shops or a family dinner, because that's never happened). That's why I chose to get my tattoo. It was my way of channeling my grief and carrying her memory with me. It stopped me from self-critically *should-ing* and allowed me to remember her and live in a way that keeps her alive.
So, back to you...
You may be going through something now, or have gone through something recently, where you accusatorially criticised yourself for not doing what you *should* do. Maybe the things you were doing were destructive or not helpful, OR maybe they were serving a purpose for you at that time, so you could process the information and work through it at your own pace.
For example... (This one's not about me, I promise)
One way of coping with grief is distraction. *Should* you be focusing on the issue instead of distracting yourself? Not necessarily. Distraction allows you to attend to the issue slowly, at a pace you can cope with, so you don't collapse and can still function. It can become destructive in the long run if you overuse that coping mechanism, but it may be effective in reorienting yourself in the short-term.
Gratitude journals, for example, are distractions: they divert focus away from the negative parts of the day to the positive. Is that distraction bad? I don't believe so. However, consistently seeking the positive and never allowing the negative in could get you into (mental) trouble.
Like food, everything is good in moderation!
Our coping mechanisms exist because they help us feel safer. It's a long explanation (get in touch if you want to discuss) but things like distraction, repression, addiction, etc., are behaviours that have somehow helped you handle your life in the past. Whether they continue to be useful in your present is up for debate, but I guarantee that self-criticising with *should's* is unlikely to be useful... instead, those serve as a psychological attack where you become your own (inescapable) worst enemy.
I know this has been long, so I appreciate you sticking around to read it.
What I'd like you to take away is that there really isn't much utility in asking yourself "*should* I do X differently?" when you're grieving or stressing or struggling... It tends to serve the purpose of psychological self-harm.
Try:
- Figuring out whether you're using a coping mechanism or if your behaviour is appropriate to the context. E.g. Was I repressing my emotion, or was my reaction appropriate given the context of mine and my cousin's relationship?
- If you are using a coping mechanism, what is it doing, or can do, for you?
- Is that useful in this context?
Oh, and as always... Be kind to yourself, please!
Sophie Gray - Think Gray Psychotherapy
sophie.gray@thinkgray.com
www.thinkgray.com
Shameless Self Promotion: I run monthly workshops in Crows Nest, Sydney, called Dealing with your Sh*t.
Participants learn to understand themselves, their emotions, and other people, much more deeply and use this to build resilience against stress, difficulty, and life challenges. Please contact me for expressions of interest.
Great post Sophie... Made me reflect on my own 'process'. The key to all of this for me is the distinction between subjective and objective grief. Many people (I have suffered this and have observed others in the family - and friends of Nicky) focus on objective grief - what they perceive they should be doing. However, if people took the time to think about what the objective is, they would realise that all they are doing is focusing on what they think others will think of them. This is no good for the healing process and can result in an obsession. I saw a film recently in which a couple had lost a child and after 15 years of 'grief' the father said '...we need to move on, grief has become our most treasured possession'. For me this was a pivotal moment in my own journey and sums up how objective grief can become your defining trait - 'i can't go on holiday - people will think I am fine...' etc. Objective measures of what we are feeling or how we judge ourselves can infiltrate other aspects of our life too such as objective measures of success (something I am researching into students undertaking a university education). As you say such objective measures are never good for the 'self'... Anyway just my musings. Mark. (Your other cousin) xx
ReplyDeleteI think that's a really useful distinction between objective and subjective grief and those expectations we have on ourselves based on what we think other people think. Would love to know the outcomes of your research too - keep me posed! Love your favourite cousin ;) ha!
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