Everything doesn't happen for a reason...

[OneGrassRoot]

This blog post was so powerful that I had to share here in GD; I know it will resonate with many. Permission to post in its entirety. I'm now a huge fan of this gentleman, Tim Lawrence.

http://www.timjlawrence.com/blog/2015/10/19/everything-doesnt-happen-for-a-reason


I emerge from this conversation dumbfounded. I've seen this a million times before, but it still gets me every time.

I’m listening to a man tell a story. A woman he knows was in a devastating car accident; her life shattered in an instant. She now lives in a state of near-permanent pain; a paraplegic; many of her hopes stolen.

He tells of how she had been a mess before the accident, but that the tragedy had engendered positive changes in her life. That she was, as a result of this devastation, living a wonderful life.

And then he utters the words. The words that are responsible for nothing less than emotional, spiritual and psychological violence:

Everything happens for a reason. That this was something that had to happen in order for her to grow.

That's the kind of bullshit that destroys lives. And it is categorically untrue.

It is amazing to me—after all these years working with people in pain—that so many of these myths persist. The myths that are nothing more than platitudes cloaked as sophistication. The myths that preclude us from doing the one and only thing we must do when our lives are turned upside down: grieve.

You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've heard these countless times. You've probably even uttered them a few times yourself. And every single one of them needs to be annihilated.

Let me be crystal clear: if you've faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way, shape or form that your tragedy was meant to be, that it happened for a reason, that it will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life.

Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When dreams die, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve.

So I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of the grieving:

Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.

These words come from my dear friend Megan Devine, one of the only writers in the field of loss and trauma I endorse. These words are so poignant because they aim right at the pathetic platitudes our culture has come to embody on a increasingly hopeless level. Losing a child cannot be fixed. Being diagnosed with a debilitating illness cannot be fixed. Facing the betrayal of your closest confidante cannot be fixed.

They can only be carried.

I hate to break it to you, but although devastation can lead to growth, it often doesn't. The reality is that it often destroys lives. And the real calamity is that this happens precisely because we've replaced grieving with advice. With platitudes. With our absence.

I now live an extraordinary life. I've been deeply blessed by the opportunities I've had and the radically unconventional life I've built for myself. Yet even with that said, I'm hardly being facetious when I say that loss has not in and of itself made me a better person. In fact, in many ways it's hardened me.

While so much loss has made me acutely aware and empathetic of the pains of others, it has made me more insular and predisposed to hide. I have a more cynical view of human nature, and a greater impatience with those who are unfamiliar with what loss does to people.

Above all, I've been left with a pervasive survivor’s guilt that has haunted me all my life. This guilt is really the genesis of my hiding, self-sabotage and brokenness.

In short, my pain has never been eradicated, I've just learned to channel it into my work with others. I consider it a great privilege to work with others in pain, but to say that my losses somehow had to happen in order for my gifts to grow would be to trample on the memories of all those I lost too young; all those who suffered needlessly, and all those who faced the same trials I did early in life, but who did not make it.

I'm simply not going to do that. I'm not going to construct some delusional narrative fallacy for myself so that I can feel better about being alive. I'm not going to assume that God ordained me for life instead of all the others so that I could do what I do now. And I'm certainly not going to pretend that I've made it through simply because I was strong enough; that I became "successful" because I "took responsibility."

There’s a lot of “take responsibility” platitudes in the personal development space, and they are largely nonsense. People tell others to take responsibility when they don’t want to understand.

Because understanding is harder than posturing. Telling someone to “take responsibility” for their loss is a form of benevolent masturbation. It’s the inverse of inspirational porn: it’s sanctimonious porn.

Personal responsibility implies that there’s something to take responsibility for. You don’t take responsibility for being raped or losing your child. You take responsibility for how you choose to live in the wake of the horrors that confront you, but you don't choose whether you grieve. We're not that smart or powerful. When hell visits us, we don't get to escape grieving.

This is why all the platitudes and fixes and posturing are so dangerous: in unleashing them upon those we claim to love, we deny them the right to grieve.

In so doing, we deny them the right to be human. We steal a bit of their freedom precisely when they're standing at the intersection of their greatest fragility and despair.

No one—and I mean no one—has that authority. Though we claim it all the time.

The irony is that the only thing that even can be "responsible" amidst loss is grieving.

So if anyone tells you some form of get over it, move on, or rise above, you can let them go.

If anyone avoids you amidst loss, or pretends like it didn’t happen, or disappears from your life, you can let them go.

If anyone tells you that all is not lost, that it happened for a reason, that you’ll become better as a result of your grief, you can let them go.

Let me reiterate: all of those platitudes are bullshit.

You are not responsible to those who try to shove them down your throat. You can let them go.

I’m not saying you should. That is up to you, and only up to you. It isn't an easy decision to make and should be made carefully. But I want you to understand that you can.

I've grieved many times in my life. I've been overwhelmed with shame and self-hatred so strong it’s nearly killed me.

The ones who helped—the only ones who helped—were those who were there. And said nothing.

In that nothingness, they did everything.

I am here—I have lived—because they chose to love me. They loved me in their silence, in their willingness to suffer with me, alongside me, and through me. They loved me in their desire to be as uncomfortable, as destroyed, as I was, if only for a week, an hour, even just a few minutes.

Most people have no idea how utterly powerful this is.

Are there ways to find "healing" amidst devastation? Yes. Can one be "transformed" by the hell life thrusts upon them? Absolutely. But it does not happen if one is not permitted to grieve. Because grief itself is not an obstacle.

The obstacles come later. The choices as to how to live; how to carry what we have lost; how to weave a new mosaic for ourselves? Those come in the wake of grief. It cannot be any other way.

Grief is woven into the fabric of the human experience. If it is not permitted to occur, its absence pillages everything that remains: the fragile, vulnerable shell you might become in the face of catastrophe.

Yet our culture has treated grief as a problem to be solved, an illness to be healed, or both. In the process, we've done everything we can to avoid, ignore, or transform grief. As a result, when you're faced with tragedy you usually find that you're no longer surrounded by people, you're surrounded by platitudes.

What to Offer Instead

When a person is devastated by grief, the last thing they need is advice. Their world has been shattered. This means that the act of inviting someone—anyone—into their world is an act of great risk. To try and fix or rationalize or wash away their pain only deepens their terror.

Instead, the most powerful thing you can do is acknowledge. Literally say the words:

I acknowledge your pain. I am here with you.

Note that I said with you, not for you. For implies that you're going to do something. That is not for you to enact. But to stand with your loved one, to suffer with them, to listen to them, to do everything but something is incredibly powerful.

There is no greater act than acknowledgment. And acknowledgment requires no training, no special skills, no expertise. It only requires the willingness to be present with a wounded soul, and to stay present, as long as is necessary.

Be there. Only be there. Do not leave when you feel uncomfortable or when you feel like you're not doing anything. In fact, it is when you feel uncomfortable and like you're not doing anything that you must stay.

Because it is in those places—in the shadows of horror we rarely allow ourselves to enter—where the beginnings of healing are found. This healing is found when we have others who are willing to enter that space alongside us. Every grieving person on earth needs these people.

Thus I beg you, I plead with you, to be one of these people.

You are more needed than you will ever know.

And when you find yourself in need of those people, find them. I guarantee they are there.

Everyone else can go.


http://www.timjlawrence.com/blog/2015/10/19/everything-doesnt-happen-for-a-reason

[arcane1]

1. That a TREMENDOUS pet peeve of mine!

The other, which comes up at work at least once a year: Change is always good. If you don't like a particular change, it's because you have a losing attitude

[Blue_Tires]

7. +1

[hollysmom]

2. IN my own life, I have seen things happen for no reason, who lives or dies is sometimes random.

life seems so random to me. But then I am abn atheist, so that probably is more obvious than to the religious.

[mmonk]

3. True.

[OneGrassRoot]

16. ...

Hi, friend.

[gratuitous]

4. And often we totally miss the reason something happened

John 9 is a classic example, following an age-old discussion. The subject is a man blind from birth; both sides agree that his blindness is a punishment from God, but they disagree on who is responsible. One side says this must be a judgment on the man's parents. The other side says the man himself must have offended God somehow, because the brunt of the judgment fell on him.

Jesus gets roped into the discussion, and is presented with the whole “God’s judgment” angle as a pre-condition for his answer. Jesus neatly avoids the trap, and returns an answer that nobody was expecting. Saying that “things happen for a reason” is an invitation into that same trap, and folks would be well-advised to avoid it in the same way.

[REP]

5. Ah, the foundation for one of my favorite quotes from Shaw

"But the deepest annoyance arising from the miracles would be the irrelevance of the issue raised by them. Jesus’s teaching has nothing to do with miracles. If his mission had been simply to demonstrate a new method of restoring lost eyesight, the miracle of curing the blind would have been entirely relevant. But to say “You should love your enemies; and to convince you of this I will now proceed to cure this gentleman of cataract” would have been, to a man of Jesus’s intelligence, the proposition of an idiot."

And saying to me, for example, that I'm not being punished with kidney failure but instead I've been made an instrument to manifest a god in which I do not believe is as bad as saying, "these things happen for a reason."

[gratuitous]

6. I suppose that's one way of looking at it

After all, why should you and your failed kidneys be subjected to the indignity of inclusion in the community, respected and dignified as a fellow human being, if the underlying cause may be related to a god in which you do not believe? Far better to suffer alone. I can't argue with that kind of logic.

[REP]

9. Saying that malady or misfortune is punishment or providence

"is the proposition of an idiot," to quote Shaw again. Sometimes shit just happens for no good reason.

[gratuitous]

12. Thanks, but no thanks

I appreciate your attempts to stuff words into my mouth and to imply that I said things I didn't. You seem extraordinarily touchy about accepting good will and camaraderie from other human beings, highly suspicious that it might be tainted by your prejudice against people of faith. That's too bad, but many people appreciate it when others can commiserate with them in their misfortune, whether it happened for what you consider a good reason or not.

[REP]

14. You were the one who responded with a parable in which Jesus declares himself the light of the world

One could well interpret that as a Jesus-flavored variety of "good will come of this thing that is causing you distress." It is a fine thing to think, but perhaps something best kept to oneself.

[OneGrassRoot]

8. "there are blessings in every tragedy," "it's all an illusion"...

and my personal favorite, "You created your reality. Create differently."

So many platitudes that amplify the suffering. Ugh...people.

to you, REP, for what you're enduring.

[REP]

11. I get tired of hearing about my "good attitude"

Well, yeah. No one likes a whiner and it doesn't help. If it did, I'd whine 24/7. But I don't think I have particularly good or bad attitude, and having a chronic illness has taught me things like "it's never just a cold" and what it's like to get very tired very easily, but has yet to make me a better person. Objectively, it's made me a worse person, in terms of functionality.

Next time you hear the "create differently" line, tell them you're trying but they're still there!

[OneGrassRoot]

13. I hear you...

and about using the line "I'm trying, but you're still here!"

Nice. I'll use that.

[hifiguy]

10. It is utter and complete horseshit.

And I hate, Hate, HATE it when someone is stupid enough to say it, especially if they actually mean it.

The universe gives not a whit, hoot, farthing or fig for any human being or anything else. If science tells us anything, it tells us nothing more profound than just how insignificant humanity is in this vast and, if the quantum mechanics are correct, thoroughly random universe in which we happen to find ourselves.

Life and the universe have only the meaning our puny brains can give it and absolutely nothing more. But our consciousness can give it meaning through relationships with friends, family, art, and nature. Those are enough. No metaphysical navel-gazing is needed.

Not one bit of quantum mechanics or Einstein's general relativity contradicts the proposition that it all simply could have popped out of the quantum foam 13.7 billion years ago and evolved to what we see today.

The wonderful Douglas Adams perhaps said it best:

"Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?"

See the beauty and share it. That is all that is necessary to appreciate the garden in its totality.

[Stuart G]

15. Yes, well said..no reason sometimes..just is..nt

[passiveporcupine]

18. Our puny brains

Life and the universe have only the meaning our puny brains can give it and absolutely nothing more.

I agree. And for religious people, who have to find a reason for everything, and continually offer up platitudes to people in grief, it's because they have to justify to themselves why their GOD would even allow horrible, evil, nasty things to happen to people.

One Grass Root, this was great...thank you so much for posting it.

[PasadenaTrudy]

17. When my sister died

of pancreatic cancer, I was devastated. She was seemingly healthy as a horse, vegetarian, avid runner. She died a month after her dx. I was visiting my therapist, and I remember her saying "It was just her time to go." I remember thinking, "how can you or anyone know this?"