If one more effing person apologizes after sharing a sad, difficult, upsetting part of their lives with me, I’m going to scream. And my shriek will leave a tiny crack in the shell of robotic positive thinking that our happiness-obsessed culture shrouds us with.
I’ve written about this before, and it’s no surprise that I’m feeling it again a year later.
It’s winter. Trees are bare, skies are cold and dark, the world around us is not bursting forth. And yet.
And yet. We expect the eternal fruits of summer from ourselves. Regardless of season or circumstance, we should keep our chins up, find inspiration and, my personal favorite, be grateful.
Gratitude can blow me.
Here’s why: it’s become the well-meaning friend who just doesn’t get it. She’s trying to help, for sure, but here’s how good old Gratitude misses the mark: She’s only makes it worse if you use her to avoid difficult feelings.
Which is how A LOT of people like to use her these days.
It’s the polite and sunny way to end a particular kind of conversation.
I’m so sorry about your favorite grandmother who is dying. At least you can be grateful for the time she had.
Yeah. Thanks. Sorry for bringing up the whole dying grandmother thing. I don’t mean to be such a downer.
Why are sadness, grief, anger, fear, or disappointment so disturbing to us that we literally apologize for sharing them? We wish we hadn’t done it. Sullied the moment, spoiled the conversation.
It’s hard to hang out with pain that we can’t instantly fix.
And yet. And yet.
Hanging out with it, with a person in grief, with a bitter sadness, can actually be sublime. There’s a deep sense of wholeness that comes from letting the dark winter simply exist, without trying to jack it up on silver-linings of gratitude.
That’s why I feel–wait for it–grateful when a neighbor admits in a casual conversation over the fence that her cancer came back. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I know this is really heavy.”
Quite the contrary. Sharing your heavy reality creates more room for my particular mess.
So please. Bring on the downers. What stray puppydog facts and feelings of yours get smothered by the eternally sunny, productive and happy waters we’re all swimming in?
Make my comments box your own personal repository for whatever downer you’re sitting on.
I’d be most grateful.