Dear Rachel, How do I respond with empathy to a relative who shares about her adult son who struggles with addiction? In the past I have said things like “Oh I am so sorry.” This has been received as being judgmental. It has obviously caused harm so how should I respond? On another note, how do I respond with empathy when an adult acquaintance shares that they have no contact with a parent or other family member? When others have said to me, about some challenge I have, “Oh that’s so sad” – which is my first reaction, too – I feel judged. I would like to tell them that it takes courage to set boundaries or in some way applaud them for taking care of themselves. What are the right words?
Sincerely,
Trying NOT to be Judge Judy
Dear Trying NOT to be Judge Judy,
Sharing our joy and pain with others is so deeply encoded into the human experience that I imagine you could find traces of it in our DNA. In fact, there’s an ancient Taoist saying, “When you open your heart, you get life’s 10,000 sorrows and 10,000 joys.” This suggests that the unfiltered, authentic experience of being human produces a multitude of emotions, which makes me tired just thinking about it. And, yet, what keeps the human boat of ourselves afloat is not facing these alone.
Which brings me to your question, which I hear as: How do I respond to others’ pain in a way that is connecting and supportive? Neuroscience educator Sarah Peyton says that having one’s emotional pain met with empathy calms the amygdala, the brain’s seat of emotion and threat-detection, helping us feel less alone, and more seen and understood.
“I am so sorry,” can be comforting, and yet, there is a certain bland uniformity to that phrase; it could become the blank you fill in in response to anyone’s expressed pain as mindlessly as your own address on a bureaucratic form. We want to know that people are really with us as we share our unique and vulnerable struggles.
We might say, “Wow, that sounds really hard – how are you doing with this?” And then true empathy, as George Washington Carver said, is listening with love. “If you listen to things with love, they will reveal themselves to you.”
Some questions we can ask silently and internally as we listen to others with love are: How does it feel to be you? What matters to you in relation to this struggle? What do you long for?
When I think about your relative whose adult son struggles with addiction, while applying the above questions, I wonder: Is she exhausted from trying everything she knows to support her son, and longing for some clarity around what might be effective? Is it hard for her to relax and enjoy life while her son struggles, and is she longing to trust that there’s a way to find joy even in the face of this relentless challenge?
The reason replying “that is so sad” to someone who has broken up with a family member hasn’t landed is probably because that phrase is a reflection of your thoughts, not a reflection of what it’s like to be them. Maybe your friend is devastated to have lost contact, relieved after years of familial strife, proud of their courageous move, scared of others’ judgments or heartbroken to not have found another way to resolve the issue.
To truly listen for “how does it feel to be you” and “what someone longs for,” we must suspend all of our excellent advice (“Have you tried … ?”), cheap reassurance (“Things will change!”) and telling our own story (“When my niece cut off contact with her mom … ”), and tune into this human in front of us who is grappling with their share of 10,000 joys and sorrows. We can’t fix others, or always say the right words, but we can beam the light of our warm curiosity and care onto their sacred struggle, helping us all to feel less alone.
Rachel Turiel is a Nonviolent Communication Mediator and Coach who supports people to hear each other and work things out. Submit a question at [email protected].