Monday, 1 March 2010

Who gets in your bucket (Oct 7th 2009)

I read this on a forum I am a member of.

Who Gets in Your Bucket?
By Doug Manning
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

The best way I know to picture how we receive help from others in grief, is to imagine you are holding a bucket. The size and color doesn't matter. The bucket represents the feelings bottled up inside of you when you are in pain. If you have suffered a loss, hold the bucket and think through how you feel right now. If you are reading this to learn more about helping others, then imagine what would be in your bucket if a loved one had died very recently. What is in your bucket?

Fear. Will I survive? What will happen to me now? Who will care for me? Who will be with me when I need someone near? Most likely your bucket is almost full just from the fear. But there is also:

Pain. It is amazing how much physical pain there is in grief. Your chest hurts, and you can't breathe. Sometimes the pain is so intense your body refuses to even move. There is enough pain to fill the bucket all by itself.

Sorrow. There is devastating sadness; overwhelming sorrow. A gaping hole has been bitten out of your heart and it bleeds inside your very soul. You cry buckets of tears and then cry some more.

Loneliness. There is no lonely like that felt when you are in a room full of people and totally alone at the same time. Loneliness alone can fill any bucket ever made.

I could go on, but that's enough to get the idea across, and hopefully get you started thinking through your own list. What is in your bucket?

Now picture someone like me approaching you and your bucket. I also have a bucket. My bucket is full of explanations. I am armed and ready to explain why your loved one had to die, how they are now better off and how you should feel.

I am also well equipped with new ways to look at your loss. In politics they call that "spin doctoring," but most human beings seem to know this skill by instinct.

I have almost a bucketful of comforting words and encouraging sayings. I can also quote vast amounts of scriptures. I seem to favor the ones that tell you not to grieve.

So we face each other armed with full buckets. The problem is, I don't want to get into your bucket. Yours is scary. If I get in there, you might start crying and I may not be able to make you stop. You might ask me something I could not answer. There is too much intimacy in your bucket. I want to stand at a safe distance and pour what is in my bucket into yours. I want the things in my bucket to wash over your pain like some magic salve to take away your pain and dry your tears. I have this vision of my words being like cool water to a dry tongue. Soothing and curing as it flows.

But your bucket is full. There is no room for anything that is in my bucket. Your needs are calling so loudly there is no way you could hear anything I say. Your pain is far too intense to be cooled by any verbal salve, no matter how profound.

The only way I can help you is to get into your bucket, to try to feel your pain, to accept your feelings as they are and make every effort to understand. I cannot really know how you feel. I cannot actually understand your pain or how your mind is working under the stress, but I can stand with you through the journey. I can allow you to feel what you feel and learn to be comfortable doing so. That is called, "Getting into your bucket."

I was speaking on guilt and anger in grief to a conference of grieving parents. I asked the group what they felt guilty about. I will never forget one mother who said, "All the way to the hospital, my son begged me to turn back. He did not want the transplant. He was afraid. I would not turn back, and he died."

I asked her how many times someone had told her that her son would have died anyway. She said, "Hundreds." When I asked her if that had helped her in any way she said, "No."

I asked her how many times she had been told that she was acting out of love and doing the right thing, she gave the same two responses. Many times and, no, it did not help."

I asked her how many times she had been told that God had taken her son for some reason, and she gave the same responses- "many" and "no help."

I asked how many times someone had told her that it had been four years since her son's death and that it was time to "Put that behind you and get on with your life."
This time she responded with great anger that she had heard that from many wellmeaning people, including family members, and that it not only did not help, it added to her pain and made her angry.

What I was really asking her is, "How many people have tried to pour their buckets into yours?"
I then said, "Would it help if I hugged you and said `that must really hurt'?"
She said, "That would help a great deal. That would really help."
Why would that help? Because I was offering to get into her bucket with her and to be in her pain, instead of trying salve over her pain with words and explanations.

If you are in pain, find someone who will get into your bucket. Most of the time these folks are found in grief groups or among friends who have been there. It is not normal procedure. It is hard to swallow our fears and climb into your bucket.

If you are reading this to find ways to help others in grief, then lay aside your explanations and your words of comfort. Forget all of the instructions and directions you think will help and learn to say, "That must really hurt." I think that is the most healing combination of words in the English language. They really mean, "May I feel along with you as you walk through your pain?" "May I get into your bucket?"

Healing happens in their buckets


TheCrone said...

9 Responses to ““Who gets in your bucket?””
1.peccatrix Says:

October 7th, 2009 at 11:49 am e

That was very a insightful and useful piece, Lara. Empathy, not sympathy, is a truly wonderful gift and skill.

2.kel Says:

October 7th, 2009 at 12:18 pm e

a great piece. Rings true not only for grief but understanding of others, on any level. Relationships end coz people cant hop in each others buckets too. Ah buckets, hope youre carrying yours ok.

3.simply.belinda Says:

October 7th, 2009 at 4:57 pm e

Hi Crone,

Thanks for sharing that article, it really explains the experience well.

Kind Regards

TheCrone said...

4.Di Says:

October 7th, 2009 at 8:25 pm e

As a person carrying a pretty full bucket I must admit I am constantly surprised by the people that do/and don’t offer to climb into my bucket. So far it hasn’t been the nearest and dearest but often acquaintances and even though it is nice when there are people that do try to take that step it just hurts even more that they people are care for most haven’t made the attempt.

Sorry to sound so deep but my bucket is overflowing ATM.


5.molly Says:

October 8th, 2009 at 8:25 am e

Hey L, brilliant article. We really cannot understand until we walk in those shoes.

6.Tara Says:

October 10th, 2009 at 12:21 pm e

Oh, Lara, that’s so beautifully expressed, it’s left me at a loss for words.

Let me just say that if you can guide me just the littlest bit on how best to do it, I’m happy to come and wallow with you in your bucket any time. And if you can’t guide me I’ll give it a go flying blind!

Much love,

TheCrone said... Says:

October 15th, 2009 at 9:07 pm e

That is absolutely beautiful. And so true. Thank you for sharing it. My heart aches for you.

8.Ishtar Says:

October 22nd, 2009 at 2:26 am e

I loved this post. Completely sums up how to empathise with someone’s pain. Having recently been on the receiving end of so-called empathy, I wish that person had been able to read this post.

Thanks again.

TheCrone said...

Meg Says:

November 5th, 2009 at 1:14 pm e

Wow. Thanks so much for sharing that. xxx