A note for you, if you’re having a bad day.
Dear Friend,
Today, I’m proposing we break some rules.
The rules I’m talking about are the ones that surround what you are supposed to do or say when someone is really going through it. (Maybe you’re the one who is really going through it! In which case, the rules are around what people are supposed to do for or say to you.)
Years ago, I Googled “What to say when friend is grieving and it is really horrible and bad.” Google came up with a litany of articles, each one telling me what NOT to say: don’t tell them this happened for a reason; don’t tell them everything is OK; don’t tell them this might be fore the best; don’t tell them you can’t imagine how hard this is; but also don’t tell them that you CAN imagine it. This all seemed obvious to my millennial self, and unhelpful. I didn’t want to know what not to do; I wanted to know what TO do. And I figured that this long list of stuff that isn’t supposed to make anyone feel better is part of why so many people report that they often feel abandoned in their grief; in lieu of saying the potentially wrong thing, the people in a grieving person’s life say nothing. Nothing!
Over the years (and through my own experiences of grieving), I learned that “I” statements are most useful to me, and truthful ones (Like: “I remember the person you lost. Here’s a specific memory. That was so important to me. I feel sad they’re gone.”). But today’s letter is not about what will work most of the time with people you don’t know very well. Today’s letter is about what might work some of the time with people you unconditionally trust and can make mistakes around.
For instance, let’s talk about the much-maligned “at least” — as in, “It’s not so bad! At least you’re not starving at the bottom of a well!” To some extent, it can feel good to minimize difficult feelings. When you tell yourself things aren’t that bad, it can be possible to find a reframe. “At least” is a kind of a reframe, and it’s not always all the time a horrible thing to try on “at least” for size. But “at least” is like a shirt that’s a size smaller than you wear: you usually can’t get it to fit, and it can make you feel uncomfortably squeezed. I get that. AND STILL!, sometimes it’s what I want to hear.
Or, here’s a more specific for-instance. For instance, some of my closest friends are women I met on The Prayer Porch — a daily gathering of humans appealing to God, and largely in the Catholic tradition, but with a fair amount of twists. I’m not Catholic, per se, but I’m not sure WHAT I am. I’m “it’s-all-a-big-question-mark-and-I’m-cool-with-that.” (I was raised Catholic, drifted away, and most recently have gone to the Unitarian church.) And anyway, the point is, sometimes when I’m going through it, I want prayer. I want to be praying, and it’s meaningful to me when people pray for me. (Here’s a piece I wrote about this a while ago, lest I start to over-explain here.) But my secular peers would never leap to, “I’m keeping you in my prayers,” because for a lot of people, it feels bad to hear that. It can feel like you’re being left behind while your loved ones outsource your suffering to a smudgy higher power. “I’m keeping you in my prayers” can feel like a giant wireless bra, offering no support, really; if anything, it’s in the way. I get that. It’s not something I would say to just anyone. But the fact remains: sometimes (but not always!) it’s what I want to hear.
There is simply no one-size-fits-all turn-of-phrase to pull out when someone’s distressed. There are a lot of things to try, and most of them aren’t going to feel right in a given moment. The muumuus and caftans (fitting pretty much everyone on pretty much any occasion) of the distress responses are: “That makes sense” and “Thank you for sharing with me.” But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try on other things to see if something might surprise you. The key is finding the right people to try with.
When you’re with someone you love and deeply trust, and you’re going through a Hard Thing, try asking for different responses. Here just a few examples:
I’d love to hear what you’re honestly thinking right now, including pointing out my potential blind spots.
Can you ask me, like, ten follow-up questions?
Has this ever happened to you? I’d love to hear a story about that.
Would you repeat back what you heard? And maybe tell me what it sounds like I’m feeling?
I’m really stuck and want to be reassured that everything will be OK.
And tell your emotions-partners (is there a better term for this? THERE SHOULD BE. THIS IS A REAL THING.) to ask for things too. (Or, you can offer a bunch of options and see if they’re game for picking something that might sound good to them.)
Part two of this experiment absolutely requires honest reflection after you get a response. Some examples:
“Wow, that hurt me more than I thought it would. Can you also give me some validation?”
“I didn’t like that! Good to know.”
“That felt unexpectedly awesome to hear.”
“I’m feeling uncomfortable. Is is OK to try something else?”
“I’m gonna need some time to reflect on how this kind of support made me feel. Can we talk about it more tomorrow?”
If the idea of doing this with someone else sounds squidgey and weird and uncomfortable, that person might not be an emotions-partner for you. That’s totally OK! Your primary partner doesn’t need to be your primary emotions partner. We need different people for different things. But if you can’t think of anyone who fits the bill, consider making it a goal to find your person this year. (It’s gonna require you to get vulnerable, and that’s a good thing.)
For every 10,000 people who don’t want to hear about how their personal tragedy “happened for a reason,” there is one person who is comforted by that idea. Talk therapy is really helpful for a boatload of people; there are others who aren’t ready for therapy, and still others who need something more somatic. And it’s interesting to notice how your body feels when you try on something that your social circle says you’re not supposed to try on.
Some problems call for problem-solving; others call for quiet and time and holding of discomfort. I’ve now heard two therapists tell me that codependency isn’t a terrible thing in and of itself; it becomes a problem in the way it manifests and how it’s patterned. Are there times when a lie is the kinder thing? Are there times when the kinder thing isn’t necessarily the right thing? Are there times when yelling is an antidote? I’m venturing yes, yes, and yes.
This whole life is an experiment, and its time frame is limited. If you are lucky enough to have relationships that feel secure, consider it a tremendous fortune that you have a lab partner.
Love,
Sophie
PS - Here’s a set of slides I posted on Instagram with different types of verbal support to try!
Add this to your to-do list.
Is there a place you can go to shout? If so, go there. Shout. If there is not such a place, find one.
Hold something warm for long enough to say out loud, “This is warm.” Or longer.
A drawing.
My book came out this week! I didn’t really get to have a book release party, because Covid prohibited it. (Although I did play Pictionary with my friend and fellow cartoonist and new-book-haver Eugenia Viti — whose book “Be Pregnant” is TERRIFIC.) But when my first book came out, I got to have a party at my favorite bookstore Women & Children First, and I drew a picture of that time, modeled from a photo my friend Jen O’Neal took of me that I loved. Here it is!
What’s on my mind this week.
(This will be about new parenthood. Skip it if you don’t want to read about new parenthood.)
We started to give T food that isn’t milk. Her first food was an infant classic: the humble avocado. She was interested in it, and swallowed it, and indicated that she would be open to having more by gaping her mouth. I used to think many baby things were, frankly, boring and gross. For example: baby puke. EW! HOW DID PEOPLE TOLERATE THIS!? But T pukes all the time and it’s just not a big deal at all, all of a sudden. It feels more like having to constantly endure spilled water than having to endure puke. I don’t know if this is a chemical shift that happens after you give birth, or if it has to do with knowing everything about a particular human body: what goes into it, what comes out of it, how much it sleeps, how much it laughs. But, as a person with inexplicable eating aversions (can’t stand chewing noises, or watching someone chew, or old food on a plate, or washing the dishes of a stranger, or food on the ground outside that’s been eaten; I even find it difficult to eat in front of other people myself), I was most nervous about dealing with my baby’s eating-of-foods habits. When people posted pictures of their babies with food all over their mouths and tables and eyebrows (“HOW!?,” I used to think), I felt affronted. It was disgusting. It triggered my gag reflexes just to look at these images. I worried that I would feel similarly horrified by my own daughter’s inability to keep food insider her mouth. But it’s the same as with the puke, the poop, the acne, the earwax: somehow it’s different when you spend all your time with the baby. Suddenly I was like, “Oh! I get it! IT’S HILARIOUS! She has never TASTED ANYTHING BEFORE. And now she is tasting A PEACH. A liquid peach. This is the way a human face looks the first time its body consumes a peach. It’s a DELIGHT!” And yeah, she gets the food everywhere (including eyebrows), and spits most of it out because she has no idea how to eat; and yeah, her puke has changed colors (yikes), and her poop has gotten a lot more… profound. But mostly it’s total bliss to sit with her and stick spoonfuls of puree into her gummy mouth and watch what it looks like when a person discovers something new, over and over again. (Also, PS, she has two teeth now. Jesus.)
Extras.
Please brace yourself as I just nerd out about how much I am in love with Petey USA. Like most people, I discovered him on TikTok as a comedian and was uncharacteristically charmed. I am usually not into cis, white, California boys who drink a lot of beer. But his comedy was so nice, sort of like a curse-word-ier iteration of Joe Pera’s, and I was like, “Yeah. I dig this.” This was about a year ago, by the way. I didn’t really want to admit to liking a TikTok celebrity. But I did have a dream about him that made me feel like we actually knew each other in real life, which made me feel a little nervous, like I was at risk of having a parasocial relationship with this guy. Then in November, The New Yorker had an article about how he was making earnest music. I was like, “That’s stupid. He should stay in his comedy lane.” But then my Discover Weekly on Spotify randomly put his song “Microwave Dinner” on a playlist for me, and I was immediately like, “WHOA. WHAT IS THIS.” Then I listened to it three times before I realized THIS WAS THE SAME PETEY. THEN I listened to his whole alum and Have. Not. Been. Able. To. Listen. To. Anything. Else. Like, I am OBSESSED. The last time I felt this way about a musician, it was LIZZO. The music is pretty emo, and I have now listened to everything he has on Spotify and “Lean Into Life” is definitely the best thing he’s put out, by far. But it’s just kind of not like anything else. It is poppy, it’s screamy sometimes, it’s (indeed) earnest, it’s about friendship. You think it’s one thing and then it’s another thing. He loses points for writing too much about MDMA and stuff, but whatever, he’s 29, and he’s having a good time. I don’t think this music is for everyone, but man. IT IS SERIOUSLY FOR ME.
My daughter T has formed opinions about music, that are definitely real opinions. Her top three favorite songs are: “You’re Welcome” from “Moana” (the clear winner), “What Else Can I Do” from “Encanto,” and “Try Everything” by Shakira from “Zootopia.”
Still on songs, and I want to point out the song “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron, which is a FUCKING BOP.
I got my haircut at Barbara & Barbara, and it is still my favorite salon in Chicago. My hair was cut by Moon, who is new there, and who is just truly terrific.
Started eating farro last week, and whoa.
Molly Anne Bishop, of whom I am a fan, has a whole new crop of clay-related merchandise. I am terrible with clay, but her stuff is so cute that I would probably buy it anyway. Also, her print of warblers is the central focus of my daughter’s bedroom.
MY GIRLFRIEND KAT IS GETTING MARRIED THIS WEEKEND. Over the past five years, I have fallen more and more in love with Kat every single day. She and her partner Brendan are two one-in-a-billion people, and it is one of the things that makes me believe in the general goodness of the universe that they found each other.
Haha.Heremindsmealittleofyourhusband.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyUUCfCQysItoobadIcan'tgetmyspacebartowork.anysuggestions?
Sophie! I am so grateful for your weekly newsletter. It's the high point of my week, every week. (For a while, there were two high points: you and episodes of Somebody, Somewhere). I also bought your book and it's just like having a book bestie.
Also I love Petey USA so much and also felt a little weird not being on TikTok but loving a TikTok star, so thank you for validating me :)