So very true. I like the circle diagram; it makes visual as well as cognitive sense.
When I was in the hospital right after the hysterectomy, a woman who had known me in childhood came in, quickly said "How are you feeling--was it an appendix?" and then launched into a diatribe against other people who had known me since childhood, members of the church I'd grown up in. Friends, in fact. On and on. I felt lousy anyway that day, but I felt lousier when she left than when she came. She didn't know that I didn't feel like talking, because I didn't get that word in edgewise fast enough (it hurt to talk, the day after surgery.) She didn't know that it wasn't a simple appendectomy but something far more serious. She didn't care. She just needed to dump on someone new, and there I was.
When my mother died, members of the church I was then attending told me all about how they'd felt when their relative died, or how they thought they'd feel IF their parent died, or how they were sure I felt, or how they thought I should feel. Nobody wanted to hear anything from me. I wasn't exactly the happiest person in the world when I went to the memorial service, but I was frustrated, annoyed, and grieving when it was over.
When my friend K- was dying of cancer, I had those experiences to fall back on and hope (HOPE) I managed not to say any bloopers in those difficult months. I do know that as a group, our support team did a great job, both in supporting her and her husband, but also in supporting each other. (I noticed that particularly when someone who hadn't been part of the team earlier waltzed in and started trying to shove arrangements around and take over. Person was, so to speak, taken out behind the woodshed and given a lesson the rest of us had learned.)
K- was the important one, and her husband next: if K- wanted it, or D- wanted it, it got done; if K- didn't want it (however much one of us thought it would help her and she should want it) we backed off. It _was_ all about her. Nobody on the team questioned her and D's decisions. I did ask once if they wanted some information about Y, and they said no, and I didn't pursue it. She and D- had that support all the way to the end of her life--in the room in hospice with her to the very end, and with D- afterwards. Checking in with each other--"You OK? Need a break?" "I'm just furious that X happened." "Yeah, me too. Let's snarl together."
"Hey, I'm down with a cold, can someone take over Thursday this week? I was supposed to do grocery shopping--here's the list." "Yeah, got you covered."
A lot of people are just nervous and don't know what to say. A lot of people want to help but don't know how. I think the circle diagram will do more good than my "Shut up and listen, dammit." Because they need to know what to listen FOR, and where they can say those things instead.
no subject
Date: 2013-04-08 08:07 pm (UTC)When I was in the hospital right after the hysterectomy, a woman who had known me in childhood came in, quickly said "How are you feeling--was it an appendix?" and then launched into a diatribe against other people who had known me since childhood, members of the church I'd grown up in. Friends, in fact. On and on. I felt lousy anyway that day, but I felt lousier when she left than when she came. She didn't know that I didn't feel like talking, because I didn't get that word in edgewise fast enough (it hurt to talk, the day after surgery.) She didn't know that it wasn't a simple appendectomy but something far more serious. She didn't care. She just needed to dump on someone new, and there I was.
When my mother died, members of the church I was then attending told me all about how they'd felt when their relative died, or how they thought they'd feel IF their parent died, or how they were sure I felt, or how they thought I should feel. Nobody wanted to hear anything from me. I wasn't exactly the happiest person in the world when I went to the memorial service, but I was frustrated, annoyed, and grieving when it was over.
When my friend K- was dying of cancer, I had those experiences to fall back on and hope (HOPE) I managed not to say any bloopers in those difficult months. I do know that as a group, our support team did a great job, both in supporting her and her husband, but also in supporting each other. (I noticed that particularly when someone who hadn't been part of the team earlier waltzed in and started trying to shove arrangements around and take over. Person was, so to speak, taken out behind the woodshed and given a lesson the rest of us had learned.)
K- was the important one, and her husband next: if K- wanted it, or D- wanted it, it got done; if K- didn't want it (however much one of us thought it would help her and she should want it) we backed off. It _was_ all about her. Nobody on the team questioned her and D's decisions. I did ask once if they wanted some information about Y, and they said no, and I didn't pursue it. She and D- had that support all the way to the end of her life--in the room in hospice with her to the very end, and with D- afterwards. Checking in with each other--"You OK? Need a break?" "I'm just furious that X happened." "Yeah, me too. Let's snarl together."
"Hey, I'm down with a cold, can someone take over Thursday this week? I was supposed to do grocery shopping--here's the list." "Yeah, got you covered."
A lot of people are just nervous and don't know what to say. A lot of people want to help but don't know how. I think the circle diagram will do more good than my "Shut up and listen, dammit." Because they need to know what to listen FOR, and where they can say those things instead.
no subject
Date: 2013-04-08 11:45 pm (UTC)I found this circle concept very valuable, and I hope I remember it when I need it.