Not so much cliches, more the tactful disavowal of truth...
In terms of commiseration, the British aren't much good. With some brilliant exceptions, they're either so embarrassed they gush, or so shy they mutter inaudibly and while you're trying to work out what they said they smile awkwardly and leave, having got it over with. This isn't to condemn them - they face difficult situations with kindness, even if they don't really know how to express it.
I've been thinking about the things people unused to suffering say to make you feel better, and they tend to have two things in common - these phrases are so universally used that they're almost cliches, but they're not cliches because although they sound true they're actually inaccurate in much the same proportions as likening a mild bout of flue to bubonic plague. Yes, both make you feel ill. That's as far as it goes.
For instance:
"When one door closes, another door opens"
Really? Prove it.
And re the opening door, how can we assume it's a good thing? It may be (and in this climate, probably is) the door to the lengthening dole queue. It may be opening just to allow someone to come through and kick you down further. And what happens if the only door to the room you're in is the one that's just closed? How do you get out, let alone as far as the door that's opening? You get my point...
How about this one?
"Time heals"
NB. This is a stock commiseration to those in mourning; people tend not to say it to someone who's just lost a leg. That would be crass.
No, it doesn't. What actually happens is that time distances you from the pain, which you feel continuously at first. As time goes on, intervals appear between pain which gradually get longer. At that point you start to remember happy times, people as they were, and remember them with love. The pain, however, does come back and is no less intense when it does. It hurts just as much. But the intervals come again and you learn to live with it.
So, if you can, please avoid these worn out staples. I'm not sure why they're so ubiquitous. Perhaps it's an unwillingness to explore an embarrassing subject. Perhaps it's the fear that if you once allowed yourself to hear what you're saying you'd hide beneath the bedclothes and never come out again? But I suspect it's inexperience combined with the need to not make the pain worse. If you say, "I'm so sorry you've lost your job; you'll probably never get another one. God, it's going to be tough," or "I'm so sorry he's dead. I hate to think how much you'll miss him and how unhappy you're going to be for so long," all you do is make life more difficult for your friend. But there has to be a middle way...
I've been thinking about the things people unused to suffering say to make you feel better, and they tend to have two things in common - these phrases are so universally used that they're almost cliches, but they're not cliches because although they sound true they're actually inaccurate in much the same proportions as likening a mild bout of flue to bubonic plague. Yes, both make you feel ill. That's as far as it goes.
For instance:
"When one door closes, another door opens"
Really? Prove it.
And re the opening door, how can we assume it's a good thing? It may be (and in this climate, probably is) the door to the lengthening dole queue. It may be opening just to allow someone to come through and kick you down further. And what happens if the only door to the room you're in is the one that's just closed? How do you get out, let alone as far as the door that's opening? You get my point...
How about this one?
"Time heals"
NB. This is a stock commiseration to those in mourning; people tend not to say it to someone who's just lost a leg. That would be crass.
No, it doesn't. What actually happens is that time distances you from the pain, which you feel continuously at first. As time goes on, intervals appear between pain which gradually get longer. At that point you start to remember happy times, people as they were, and remember them with love. The pain, however, does come back and is no less intense when it does. It hurts just as much. But the intervals come again and you learn to live with it.
So, if you can, please avoid these worn out staples. I'm not sure why they're so ubiquitous. Perhaps it's an unwillingness to explore an embarrassing subject. Perhaps it's the fear that if you once allowed yourself to hear what you're saying you'd hide beneath the bedclothes and never come out again? But I suspect it's inexperience combined with the need to not make the pain worse. If you say, "I'm so sorry you've lost your job; you'll probably never get another one. God, it's going to be tough," or "I'm so sorry he's dead. I hate to think how much you'll miss him and how unhappy you're going to be for so long," all you do is make life more difficult for your friend. But there has to be a middle way...
posted by Alley Splat at
3:17 AM
2 Comments:
"We're all going to die anyway, so our pain and anxiety has a finite duration."
Very true.
By
Gorilla Bananas, at 3:44 PM
Absolutely. That doesn't really register on the people dealing with loss at the time though, except possibly to turn those who were already feeling marginally suicidal further in that direction.
By
Alley Splat, at 1:31 AM
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