Permission to listen: Being present in times of distress | Parkview ...

This post was written by Kathryn Cochran, chaplain, Parkview Health.

We all respond in our own ways when someone we care for is in pain. When we encounter our loved one suffering—whether from a sudden accident, difficult diagnosis, financial strain or the death of a loved one, for exampple—we want to help. Or at least we think we should help. But how? We each show up uniquely to suffering. Some of us jump into action—feeding, cleaning, gathering helpers, running errands. Others avoid or want to run away. We might wonder how on earth we could possibly offer meaningful help. Sometimes, the suffering is so terrible that we feel the need to pull away from it.

If you are navigating a time of grief or difficulty alongside someone you care about, and feel paralyzed by how to show up for them, I have good news. There is something that is guaranteed to help. You can listen. It might not look like much, but lending an empathetic ear can accomplish important things for someone in pain. Listening can help them feel seen, heard and cared for. Listening acknowledges their experience and their losses and reassures them that they’re not alone.

Below, I’ve shared a few ways that we can let go of some of the anxieties we might have around helping others in times of distress. We might consider them as permission to turn from fast, fearful inclinations and to instead slow down, take a breath, and be present with someone in pain.  

Bad news can be shocking, and pain is often exhausting. Whatever your loved one is going through, they are probably tired. And at the same time, there are daily needs to meet. If you have the opportunity—whether by making a phone call, delivering groceries or running kids home from practice—take a moment to notice where your loved one is at that day. Are they weary? Talkative? Busy? Barely able to move?

As you notice them, it’s okay to slow yourself down. You won’t be able to do everything for them, and you don’t have to. Take a breath. If you are visiting someone in the hospital, take a seat. You don’t have to stay long, but you can be present while you are there. When we slow down, it gives our loved ones permission to do the same. And it gives us permission to simply be there with them.  

One of my natural tendencies is to avoid bothering others, at all costs, especially if they are grieving or going through something hard. If I’m dropping off a meal, I’m ready to leave quickly so that I don’t intrude on their time, energy or space. This can be good, but there are times when those in pain want us to stay. When they invite us in. There are times when they want us to be there with them. When that’s the case, what do we do?

It’s tempting to fill the space with words. We want to help, and we’re likely a bit (or very) uncomfortable, so we talk. But that kind of talking often serves to comfort us, not them. It’s okay to be quiet. It’s okay to let silence fill the room. When we do that, we let our loved one take up space. We let their pain be present.

If you’re not sure of what to say, you don’t have to say anything. We’ve all experienced—and try to avoid—“awkward silences.” But it’s often in silence that good things can happen, like honesty. Silence makes room for reality—for pain and feelings and questions that might not have easy answers. When someone shares with us that they feel lost or scared or devastated, we don’t have to come up with the right words. We can offer our quiet attention. It’s a presence that says, “I see you, and I am with you.”  

Slowing down, sitting still and offering quiet companionship can be respectful, soothing, and even productive for those we sit with. But being present with someone in pain can also be uncomfortable. When someone shares about their grief, it can bring up our own feelings and fears. Or it can trigger our desire to fix problems or run away from them. With the permission to slow down and be quiet, we know we can offer our loved one the gift of listening. But that doesn’t necessarily make it easy.

As you listen attentively to another person, you also have permission to listen to yourself. What is coming up in you? You may notice feelings or questions that are uncomfortable or unwelcome. As you listen to your loved one, note your own discomforts and set them aside for later. And then come back to them. As you care for others in distress, you will be affected by their stories. Attend to what has come up for you later, when you have time. You might need someone to listen to you! As you listen to others and to yourself, you will learn how much discomfort you are comfortable with.  

Finally, you have permission to not fix it. Whatever it is. Years ago, when my husband was in seminary, some of his classmates had suffered harm. As they were sharing about their experience, he asked, “What can I do? How can I help you?” Their response: “Just listen to our stories.”

When we’re confronted with the suffering of others, we want to help. We care. We want to fix what’s wrong. It’s tempting to offer advice or solutions that worked for someone we know or read about online, but with a hard diagnosis or a loss, there may be nothing we can do to change that reality.

What we can do is simply be there. We can listen to their stories. Listening is helping. When we offer the gift of our presence, we open up room for tears to fall, for grief to emerge and for honest sharing. When we slow down and create space for another, we encounter unexpected gifts, like what matters to their hearts and our own. And we may notice ways to help going forward that are truly helpful. When we listen in times of distress, we offer those we love our quiet attention, our willing hearts.