The holiday season is in full swing and Christmas is a mere
23 days away. My last post was about gift-giving, with the intent of exploring
that theme in the following days. Well, today’s post has a slightly different
spin, as the gift I’m going to talk about is a bit more intangible, and perhaps
part of the conundrum. Before I explain, I do want to acknowledge Carin
Channing at The Therapy Booth. As a dear friend, her November 29 post inspired mine.
My boyfriend and I broke up a few days ago. The details are
unimportant, as these ponderings mostly have to do with the responses I’ve
received since then, thus the title. And as anyone with a broken heart knows,
the last thing anyone wants to hear during a time of grief is anything. Really.
Most well-meaning, heartfelt condolences and advice are at best ignored,
because it’s just too painful to hear any of it. And loving friends risk
cynical, nasty reactions from the newly single.
Here are the top three “helps” I’ve been given since
Wednesday, two of which came within the first 24 hours, and my internal
responses:
What have you learned from this?
I’m a strong supporter and practitioner of learning what I
can from all of life’s experiences. However, I generally don’t have a handle on
the real lesson within hours of a relationship ending. Sometimes it takes weeks
or months, or sadly, years. My immediate response is spurred by hurt, not
introspection. So, while I could tell you that I’ve learned I was foolish to
open myself to love, that men are idiots and not to be trusted, and that I am
being told by the Universe that fulfilling romantic relationships are not for
me, I suspect that those aren’t my take-aways. And vocalized aloud, I’m likely
to be told I’m wrong about those things, which I don’t want to hear, either.
You need to go out with other men. Let me set you up with
______ (fill in the blank).
I’m sad, I’m hurt, and I’m sadly still in love with the guy
that broke my heart. On top of all that, I’m terrible company right now. I’m
prone to tears, and under the wrong (right?) conditions, bitchiness. I don’t
want to leave my house. I don’t want to talk to anyone. And need I remind you
I’m still madly in love with someone else? Why on earth would you set me up
with someone you like? So, no, I don’t want to be fixed up on a blind date. I’m
in my 40s. I don’t see the value in rebounding by dating a string of men. I do
see the value in grieving, at home, alone. When I’m through, maybe I’ll take
you up on your offer. However, you should pay careful attention to my previous
commentary about the take-aways.
He’s just scared and probably still loves you. Maybe you
should think about staying open/trying to help him through this fear.
Now, this may be valid. He’s suffered a lot of loss and
probably has abandonment issues—it takes one to know one and like attracts
like. However, for as correct as this might be, I have my own vulnerability and
fears to revisit. And no matter how he really feels, I can’t get around the
fact that his interest has waned over the last few months and that he has, for
all intents and purposes, pushed me away. He didn’t say, “help me through
this.” He said, “I don’t know how I feel about you, I love you, and here’s a
laundry list of reasons we shouldn’t be together.” This could be interpreted in
a number of ways. My current interpretation is that he doesn’t love me, he
isn’t interested, and that he was trying to let me down easily. All I can say
with any surety is that he says he doesn’t know, so neither do I. For now, I’m
going to tend to my own heart, until I hear otherwise.
Okay, my rant is over. We’ve all said things to make someone
feel better during a time of loss because we all know how painful it is. My
friends are ultimately well-meaning, and I know that with their words come with
caring, love and compassion. They are trying to ease my suffering in order to
ease the two-fold suffering of their own. One, they hurt for me. Two, they are
being reminded of the pain they felt from their own past hurts. So, I try not
to judge them and keep my responses silent. Which brings me to the theme of
this post: the gift of silence.
I know for myself, and probably most people, we really don’t
want to hear anything anyone has to say shortly after a break-up. Nothing makes
us feel better. Even chocolate and alcohol fall short. The best gift that can
be given during this time is the silent treatment. A gentle “I’m sorry” or “I
love you” is fine. Even better, a knowing, compassionate nod. If you are the
receiver of what sounds like platitudes, please try to be gentle with yourself
and your loved ones. If you are the giver, before you speak, ponder what words
make you feel better when your heart is in pieces. If you can’t come up with
any, stay quiet and maybe give a hug instead. Silence isn't just golden, it's worth a thousand words.
