The woman looked at me with tears streaming down her face. “I know I should be over this already,” she said. “But I’m getting worse.”
This particular woman had lost her healthy husband of 40+ years suddenly in an accident. About six months had passed when we spoke. We discussed many things about the death and their relationship leading up to it. The accident was particularly horrific and it made many people around her uncomfortable to discuss it. She found herself resentful of other’s good health and as a result, was feeling guilt comingled with sadness and anger just about every emotion in between. She also had children and grandchildren that were grieving and felt responsible to be strong for them, and in the process, pushed her own grief aside.
In my work with clients and grief, I have discovered there is no clear-cut formula, no “correct” timetable of events or feelings to check off a list. And I hate the phrase “get over it.” I just hate it. People grieve at their own pace, in their own way. Grief is deeply personal and manifests itself differently in everyone. One person might want to talk about the loss at length to process it; the next person might retreat inward and not want it mentioned at all. Grief is fluid, and hits at certain, random times – usually when its least expected.
The client and I continued to talk. I was pretty direct with my response. “Why do you need to be over it already?” I asked her. “It was a tragedy. You’re still in shock and grieving. You lost someone you love and you miss him. Don’t put a timetable or expectation on yourself to be a certain way at a certain time. Allow yourself to grieve and don’t ever apologize for it – to anyone.”
I know this woman is still grieving, and will be in some stage of grief forever. And I hope she feels permission to do so.
If you are grieving: grieve. Don’t apologize for it. Ever. Sometimes, there is no “getting over it.” There is coping, sure, and figuring out how to move forward in an unexpected direction. But getting over it? That’s simply at times impossible. And an unrealistic expectation that can minimize and impede the grieving process.
If a loved one is grieving, don’t judge their grief or tell them how to grieve; be a safe place for them to rant, vent, laugh or cry. Never tell someone to “get over it “ or that “it’s time to get over it.” People deep in grief need people that can listen to them on the good, bad and ugly days. Above all, encourage them to see a professional counselor or therapist that specializes in grief, and can be there to help them navigate their journey forward.
Recently I had a client facing a tough weekend situation – a family reunion of sorts, and he had no idea what the outcome would be after the visit. Of course, he knew what HE wanted the outcome to be……a reconciliation…….but had zero clue which way it would fall out. Because he is at high-risk for relapse, there were many concerns on my end how this client would handle an end result that wasn’t what he would consider to be a positive one.
In session, I talk a lot with my clients about feelings, actions, reactions, thoughts, emotions……well, you get my drift. I did the same thing with this client regarding pretty much every potential scenario. At the end of the session, I told him his motto for the weekend, no matter what happened, was this: productive or destructive.
This technique is pretty simple, and easy to implement in any facet of our lives. I ask clients to stop and consider these four questions, which apply to most situations:
- Are my words or actions productive or destructive?
- Do I consider the other person’s words or actions productive or destructive?
- Will I frame my reaction in a productive or destructive way?
- Can I change something from destructive to productive? Or is it not possible?
From this point on, I’ll refer to this technique as POD.
ACTIONS There’s nothing worse than doing something we either instantly regret or stew about for days. Of course, once our actions are out there, we can’t take them back or change them. But we can prevent them from happening by pausing to think if the action will be POD, then act accordingly to the result we would prefer, or on which side of the action coin we would rather be.
REACTIONS Of course, it’s Counseling 101 that we can’t control anyone else’s actions. What we can control is our own reaction. This is where POD is extremely helpful. If someone is being destructive, how helpful is it to respond likewise? What is the reaction(s) that would be most productive in x, y or z situation?
WORDS Much like our actions and reactions, we can’t change them once they are said and done. Words (spoken, written, texted) must be thought out and used mindfully and carefully. Before you send that email, text, or say that snarky reply to your partner, consider if those words will make the situation POD. How will those words be received?
RELATIONSHIPS I use POD often with couples in solving or working on conflict. I ask couples to think about the characteristics of their relationship that are productive, and the ones that are destructive. We focus on why certain aspects are productive, and how we can take the destructive ones (if we can) and move them into the productive category.
WORK What is your style at work? Are you a productive co-worker or a destructive one? How do you handle POD bosses? Is your overall work atmosphere POD? Many times clients talk about work issues, and we use the POD technique to sort out myriad challenges and issues. POD can also be used to assess whether it’s time for a work or career change.
But back to my client. POD helped him through his situation, even when the outcome wasn’t necessarily what he wanted. He also used POD to apply a productive, positive coping skill, instead of resorting to his past destructive one of self-medicating with drugs.
This week, if faced with something challenging, hard or unexpected, stop and think to yourself: is my reaction going to be POD? Will my words make turn the situation POD?
I hope everyone has a productive week.
I used to run a life skills group at an alternative high school for 10 at-risk boys. These boys were products of broken homes and expelled from their regular schools due to various run-ins with the law. Many of these boys were one adjudication away from being locked up in jail. All were mandated to see me once a week for 12 weeks in my group.
The boys called me “Miss,” something I learned while living in San Antonio is a title used for women, usually out of politeness, but sometimes as a safe alternative to a name they didn’t remember or know.
Our group met on Wednesdays, and at first, I was met with loads of resistance. How would I, a middle-aged white “Miss” from the suburbs, possibly connect with 10 Hispanic boys that had lived lives the polar opposite from my own? But each week I went, they all showed up, and we formed a routine. The first day, I gave each boy a journal and assigned a random writing topic. Each boy could either write and share, or write and close their journal. Upon finishing, I had to collect each journal and pencil per the school rules, because in this particular environment, a pencil could be used as a weapon. We set group rules, which included one person talking at a time (which was always a problem, as they boys tended to speak over each other); no disrespecting other people’s differing thoughts or views and minimal profanity.
One boy in the group, who I’ll call Angel, was usually unruly during group and spoke out of turn often. I was constantly redirecting him. He was on the physically smaller side, wore glasses and had a slight lisp. I learned he was bounced around from home to home as a young child, most recently living with his Grandmother in Oklahoma. He was sent back to San Antonio to live with his mother the prior year, a mother who, according to him, had various children and men in and out of the home, with case workers visiting on the regular. The past year, Angel made some bad choices and landed himself in the juvenile school as well as my group.
At the end of group, I always asked for a rundown of everyone’s plans for the upcoming weekend. One week, Angel told me he was excited because an uncle was driving him up to Oklahoma after school on Friday to visit his Grandmother, and he was looking forward to visiting old friends in the neighborhood and having the famous peach cobbler his Grandmother promised to make. He was so excited and enthusiastic about the weekend and I could see a shift in his usual body language. I told him to have safe travels and that I couldn’t wait to hear about his visit during our next group. I left the school happy for Angel and his obvious anticipation and joy, something he didn’t demonstrate very often.
The next week I showed up for group, and they boys walked in, single file in their jeans and white t-shirts (the school uniform), hands in their pockets (Standard Operating Procedure for safety in this particular school environment). I saw Angel and said, “Hey, did you bring me back a piece of that peach cobbler from Oklahoma?” He didn’t have much of a reaction, In fact, he didn’t answer me at all, which made me a bit curious as well as worried. Did I say something to offend him? Should I not have brought it up? Did the weekend go awry, with a family fight?
The boys sat down, and I watched Angel. The boys were rowdy as usual, but Angel just sat and stared at the table. We did our journal exercise, and Angel glanced over at me as he wrote. After notebooks and pencils were collected, I asked who wanted to start telling me about their weekend. One boy started recounting about the movie he and his girlfriend watched. Angel interrupted, normally a set group-rule no-no, but one I allowed in this particular moment.
“Miss, I can’t believe you said that about the peach cobbler,” he said. Uh oh, I thought. I blew it. I should have not said a word unless he brought up the weekend. Rookie mistake. I began silently cursing myself for even mentioning the cobbler and his trip.
Before I could answer, he continued. “No one ever remembers anything I tell them” he said. “I told you about my Grandmother’s peach cobbler and you remembered. No one ever listens to me the way you do. My mom didn’t even ask me about my weekend. You always remember what I tell you from last group. I wish I lived with you,” he said.
“Yeah, Miss always remembers what we say, it scares me sometimes,” chimed in another boy, one who recently revealed at the age of 16, he was going to be a father.
To me, asking Angel about his weekend wasn’t anything special or extraordinary – as a counselor, after all, my job is to listen. That moment made me realize the power of listening – not listening to talk next or to get your point across, but actively listening. These boys looked forward to having a person listen to them each week for an hour-and-a-half. The times they all talked over each other was simply because they wanted to be heard.
One of the biggest complaints I hear from children of all ages I work with is that they feel like no one listens to what they have to say. When someone is talking, just listen. Look them straight in the eye when they are talking with you. Ask someone a question about themselves, their work, school, about what is going on in their lives. It’s a small thing to do, but one that can leave a big impact. 10 boys in an alternative high school showed me what a difference listening can make, and what a gift it is to give to someone else.
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