Grief Literacy

Knowing when it’s safe to share, and how to hold space when someone does

Recently I attended a documentary film screening that was followed by a Q&A with the directors and subject. One person raised their hand and tearfully started explaining that someone she knew had recently died from the same condition as the subject of the film. The film had impacted her profoundly and she vulnerably shared how she’d cried the whole way through.

While I understood the point she was trying to make, it didn’t come across very well. First of all, she didn’t ask a question¹. Secondly, it felt incredibly centred on her own loss and experience, as opposed to being in relation to the film the whole audience just watched. It’s hard to talk about something so personal, in the way that she did, in a room with hundreds of people. It made it hard to connect with her and once she’d finished talking the panel host swiftly moved to the next audience member question with little acknowledgement of what she shared.

This might sound like a harsh recap, especially for me who touts grief literacy as vital for us all to learn. And I think there is learning for us all here.

I’ve been on both sides of this. I’ve been the one so awkward with another person’s pain I tried to shift the conversation, ignorantly thinking that was what was best for everyone. I didn’t know any better, but now I understand it was my own discomfort that drove my desire to change the subject.

I’ve also been the one sharing my raw pain and being met with awkward silence and the feeling like the air has just been sucked out of the room. What happened next was usually some version of my pain being ignored or dismissed or uncomfortably skirted around. As a result I felt shamed, misunderstood, and unheard in my pain, and like I couldn’t share my truth.

Grief Hijacking

Another common response is known as grief hijacking. It’s when someone hears about your loss and then starts talking about their own prior experience of loss. It can be veiled as a way to relate, but really instead of talking about the person new to their grief, the conversation shifts focus to consoling this other person and their past loss.

It happens because people are walking around without an outlet for their unexpressed grief. If someone else brings it up, it’s an opportunity to finally talk about their dead loved one. The grief valve gets released and emotions come flooding out.

That doesn’t mean that every chance someone brings up loss is the right time to share your experience. A simple way to check this instinct is to offer that you have experienced a loss and note that you would be happy to talk about it if it would be helpful.

This person saw this public screening of a film that touched her experience and felt called. My guess is that if she felt her grief was more acknowledged in her day-to-day life, she wouldn’t have tearfully expressed it here.

Part of learning how to grieve is knowing when it’s safe to share.

I’m all for expressing grief in healthy and safe ways. But this situation wasn’t ideal. Bringing up your raw grief in a heightened emotional state in a room full of hundreds of strangers, many of whom were itching to use the bathroom or get to the afterparty for a drink and some poutine² might not be the safest way to express it.

I would guess she walked away feeling like she hadn’t been heard, and I doubt I was the only audience member to feel like we didn’t meet her where she needed to be met. It’s hard to properly acknowledge loss in a room full of hundreds of people.

I’ve definitely over-shared about Mike’s death. Things have slipped out in moments when I felt like I couldn’t hold it in. Sometimes it happened when people asked prying questions and I was tired of evading them. Or if I was in a heightened emotional state and doing something challenging and needed to explain why I was crying uncontrollably on the return flight after burying my husband.  

At times this oversharing put me at risk, with strangers knowing how vulnerable I was and trying to take advantage of that. There were definitely times when I should have held back. Even if that meant lying to keep myself safe. I used to worry it was a disservice to Mike to not explain that he was dead. But I know understand that it might be essential at times.

Not everyone deserves to hear this truth.

I wish I could share this with my early grieving self. I would tell her that she doesn’t owe any of her story to the creepy man she’s paying to tow Mike’s motorcycle who’s now trying to purchase it because he can sense the vulnerability and smells a deal. You don’t owe him anything. And there are other people you can keep things from too. For you and your personal wellness and safety.

Mike and his sweet bike

The Importance of Acknowledgement

Part of existing as a grieving person is learning to know when it’s safe and appropriate to share your truth. AND we can also get better at holding space for grievers and acknowledging their experience.

My instinct is there was a better way that person could have shared her experience in a way that was safer and meant she was able to have an outlet for her pain. And it could have been made better by the host acknowledging her loss with something like, “thank you for your comment, we are sorry to hear about your loss and glad you are here with us tonight and connected with the film” before moving to the next person.

Anything is better than an awkward silence and pretending like someone just didn’t say that.

There is a time and a place to express grief safely.

And acknowledgement is key too.

1. Raising your hand at a Q&A and then proceeding to not ask a question should be a criminal offence. They should gather everyone who does this in a room together and make them answer each other’s “questions” as punishment.

2. Not a euphemism, this party had a poutine bar! All parties should have this.