Judgement in Grief
Why do supposed words of comfort feel like judgement?
One surprising thing I found since Mike died is how judged I’ve felt in my grief. At the time in my life when I most needed support, I felt isolated, misunderstood and judged. The judgement came from all directions, including people close to me, acquaintances, other grievers, strangers, doctors and one awful dentist. It took me a while to understand the feeling, long enough to need a few more fillings.
It probably sounds counterintuitive (grieving people should be centred and held!) but it’s a reality of the grieving experience and caused me a lot of suffering. Suffering which is avoidable if we become better about talking about grief. It’s no one individual’s fault, rather a result of existing in a grief phobic society.
I’ll share a variety of things people have said to me since Mike died, mostly in the early days. The reason I remember them is because it hurt. You may think they’re not that bad, and this is part of the disconnect. I’ll try to explain why someone may say something – usually well intended – it can be heard in a very different way when your person is dead. It also depends on the relationship between the two people. A trusted friend may offer something while we’re chatting, and it wouldn’t necessarily bother me as much as something a doctor has responded with when I’m asking for help in a dark hour.
The aim of this isn’t to shame anyone for a specific thing they said (except maybe that dentist). But to share in the hope that when we know better, we do better.
Judgement around how you’re coping
“I can’t believe you’re back at work… I can’t believe you’re out of the house... I would be on the floor… I wouldn’t be able to keep going... You’re so strong!”
While these may not seem unkind, I noticed they always felt bad to receive. It stung, and then I was confused. This person said something that should be received well. They called me strong. Why did it feel icky and off?
It came down to a judgement around how I was behaving. They were distancing themselves from me and saying they wouldn’t act that way. Ergo, I was doing it wrong. Great, now I’m not even grieving my dead husband the right way! While I understand that’s not the intention, it was how it was received.
“I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”
This type of comment always hit the hardest for me. The reason being there is a second unspoken addition to this sentence that suggests there is another option. Well, the other option is being dead. To a grieving person who’s potentially lost their whole world, this is a painful judgement to face. And a common one.
The other unspoken part of this feels like a judgement that “you didn’t love him enough”. If I am coping and they couldn’t possibly, it feels like they are saying their love is superior. It’s distancing and discounts the fact they’re likely only seeing about 1% of my actual experience.
Judgement around stigmatized loss
“How did he die?... He shouldn’t have done that… Did you know?... Were there signs?... Did he talk to you?... I thought he was doing well?... What happened.”
Mike died from toxic drug poisoning, a death that by its nature has a lot of stigma and assumptions attached to it, resulting in a lot of judgement. This adds extra complications to the grieving process. People can respond to the way he died with stigmatizing and minimising labels, judgements and blame. It’s not helpful and can be very harmful. And makes it harder to talk about in an honest way. This in turn perpetuates cycles of shame and stigma.
In the days and weeks following Mike’s death a lot of people asked how he died, usually people who did not have a right to this information. Being questioned and quizzed about intimate and traumatic details left me feeling judged and like my loss was less worthy than other types of loss. It felt like if I shared the truth that he would receive less compassion and be thought of differently in his death.
It also felt like people were asking how he died so they could assure themselves it wouldn’t happen to them. I never thought it would happen to me either. This could happen to anyone.
I can understand why people think they have a right to this information, and it’s often disguised as concern, but when someone has died in a traumatic and/or stigmatized way, these comments and questions can be very triggering and unkind. More on this later.
Judgement around being able to replace the dead
“At least you didn’t have children… I bet you wish you had children!... Have you thought about freezing your eggs?... You still have time… You can’t give up hope…”
As a young widow I was shocked by times when I shared my situation there was sometimes an almost immediate response that I was young and would find another partner. Again, the unspoken part of this screams that I shouldn’t feel the way I feel.
Judgement around how you’re grieving
“You’re lucky you found love … Be grateful for what you still have… Have you tried a gratitude journal?... At least you had the time that you did.”
The idea of gratitude being forced on grieving people needs its own post. But for now, I will just say gratitude is not an antidote for grief. And it can feel like others think it should be when it’s forced on us. It pushes that we don’t have a right to be bereft and depressed, because there is so much to be grateful for.
While gratitude can be a useful tool, it’s only that way if we find it for ourselves, and at the right time, if and when that may be. Grief and gratitude can co-exist: one doesn’t counter the other.
Judgement around the decisions you’re making
“Are you sure you want to move?... Why don’t you move home?... Are you sure you want to sell his car?... You should learn to ride his motorcycle…”
At a time when everything was impossible, making decisions was fraught, and necessary. I made the best decisions I could at a time when it was nearly impossible to see my hand in front of my face, let alone if I would regret this decision later. When this unwanted life was thrust upon me, I didn’t have a lot of agency. And what few choices I did have were preciously mine and mine alone. Having them second guessed without me soliciting advice just made me not want to share the plan next time and/or wish for a void to scream into.
Judgement in that if something good happens next, it will have made it all worthwhile
“Everything happens for a reason… Things always work out in the end... What’s for you won’t go by you… This too shall pass… Find the gift in this...”
Platitudes like these have a way of invalidating the grieving experience. Once again, they arrive with the unspoken sentence that implores us to stop being so sad. Megan Devine speaks about this in her excellent book It’s Ok that You’re Not Ok and on her Speaking Grief website.
These platitudes suggest the loss is worth if it there is beauty to be found or personal growth to be had. This is wrong. A life is never worth this. I’ll always wish Mike was still alive. And I can have a beautiful life in the here and now. Both things can be true and are true for me.
What then?
I wanted to follow this up with suggestions of other things to say instead, but this is already too long so I’ll share that in the future. In the meantime, I’ll just offer this post 9 Texts to send to someone Who is grieving from @goodmourningpodcast.
As I said, I’m not trying to shame or blame anyone. We’re limited in what we know in a society that doesn’t understand grief or talk about it. And it’s been my experience and something that caused a lot of suffering and took time to understand. It’s important to talk about. Thank you for being here.
Questions:
As a griever, are there ways you’ve felt judged? Has this added to your suffering?
If you’re a non-griever, how do you receive this?
And most importantly, should I email this to my ex-dentist?