How to reappear completely...

We humans are a mess. We’re often bad at celebrating our wins, rushing on to the next thing without really stopping, commemorating, and soaking it all in. And we are really bad at grieving our losses—again, floating past it, or wallowing and harboring bitterness for far too long.

But learning how to lose in life is probably more important than learning how to win. Because life is, for most, more Ls than dubs.

I mean, if you could actually keep track of every expectation you ever had of Life, your loss column (and mine!) would look pretty abysmal. We normally don’t get what we want. And sometimes, we even take on real live fire.

So last week, I lamented “ghosting” people in their time of need because (in some cases) I didn’t want to say something to “make it worse” or (in other cases) I didn’t want my reputation to take a hit for cavorting with someone who’s reputation had just taken a hit.

Put differently, I haven’t always known how to help others through their disappointments, big or small. I’m a “fixer” by nature. And when I don’t know how to fix, I can feel helpless, and then useless. (Ask me later how “fixing” has gone for me in my marriage and a few work relationships.)

Thankfully, I’m learning how to do better with other people’s losses and disappointments. For one, I’m doing less intervening and fixing. But I’m also sending more notes of encouragement, solidarity, and arm-in-arm support. I’m making the call. I’m getting on a plane. And especially when it comes to rumors or someone’s public scandal, I’m done protecting myself from “guilt by association”.

Someone I know is in pain. I probably can’t make it any worse. But their loneliness definitely can. Ironically, this “embodied presence”—where we give our fingers to type, our mouths to speak, our arms to hug, our ears to listen, and our eyes to cry—is usually the only fix there really is.

Because here’s the thing about ghosting and being ghosted… it’s actually haunting.

Why Ghosting is So Haunting

Have you ever been scared? At night? In an old house? All alone? In the woods? The silence is soooooo loud. You can literally hear the ghosts moving through the walls, mocking you. The fact that they are not there only makes them louder, scarier, and more real.

This is how life after loss can feel, as well. The walls close in. Your world gets small. And the silence gets loud as you battle your thoughts and pine for a trace of hope that you won’t have to carry the weight alone. So whether it’s a diagnosis, death, divorce, public shaming, etc. it’s often the people who don’t stick around, who don’t reach out, who don’t return a text that stick around the longest.

And once we do disappear on each other, lurking around corners, keeping tabs in the dark, we don’t know how to “un-spook” ourselves without scaring the bejeezus out of the person we ghosted.

We imagine the first text exchange:

Practical Solidarity

So, today, I wanted to offer some of the very practical things you’ve all shared and we’ve learned together as a community as tips for anyone looking to upgrade the way you stand with others in need.

Here are 5 things you can say to someone in pain (and 5 more for when you’ve waited too long to say something at all).

5 Things to Say to Someone in Pain

1. I love you.

2. I’m in your corner.

3. I can’t imagine what this feels like. But I’m with you.

4. I’m so sorry. We’re devastated for you and with you.

5. You may not be in a place to talk or even respond. So I’m just going to keep reminding you: I love you. And I’m here with you, all the way through to the other side.

Some of us get wordy and clumsy. But volume is not what’s important here. Above all else, it’s consistency. Maybe you sent the obligatory text. But then that friend (or even acquaintance) comes to mind again 3 days later. You think, “Well, I already said I was on their side. Surely, it’s weird to write again? They’ll think I’m just sitting around thinking about them, right? That’s weird.”

Go ahead: send the next text. Leave the voice memo. Take the risk.

Because you know what you 100% will not regret at the end of your life? Showing too much love.

But what if you waited too long to reach out in the first place, and now it feels weird? How do you jump back in now that so much has changed? Do you just hide and hope you never see them again? Wait to bump into them at a conference? Slow-drip some “likes” online?

Here’s 5 Things to Say When You’ve Waited Too Long to Say Something

1. Hey! It’s been too long and I’m really sorry for that.

2. I know it’s been a hard year. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.

3. I was a crappy friend. I’m sorry. Can I try again?

4. I’ve thought about you so much. I was just scared to get involved. I’m sorry.

5. I know a lot has changed since we last talked. At first, I thought I’d give you some space, but I’ve realized now you probably needed community more than anything. So, I didn’t want to let any more time go by without reaching out.

Here’s the principle I use now: connection, not perfection. So just say something. Or call, say “tell me everything”, and then say nothing for the next hour.

What’s this got to do with peace?

In the olden days, it was impossible to disappear on each other. All our friends shared the same watering hole. But just as the digital era expanded our feelings of connectedness and changed the meaning of “friend”, it has made it easier to disappear on each other and decreased our personal consequences for doing so.

Those who are closest to the perpetual pain of the world are just like anyone else when it comes to keeping every single relationship in balance, in love, and in peace. This isn’t happening! Being a “peacemaker” or a “caretaker” doesn’t immediately make you better at tending to your own disappointment. In fact, the vicarious trauma obviously makes some of us worse.

I know: peacemaker is a heavy word for some, implying an idealistic standard that must be attained or you lose your membership in the club. At HUMANITE, we see it differently though. Peacemaker is more of an idealistic intention. If you want to be, if you practice, if you study, if you work… then you’re in. You belong. Because actually making peace with others is not only harder than most of us imagine, it’s often beyond our individual control. So it’s not our ideals that offer the greatest promise of peace, as much as our consistency in the pursuit.

Hope is a habit.
Happiness is a habit.
Love is a habit.
And so are the alternatives.

So what, maybe we ghost each other!? We get scared. Or bored. And we disappear. But it’s important we not give up on the hope of reappearing in each other’s lives to extend love, make repair, and pick up with the who and the how we’ve each become over our time apart.

Is this required for personal peace? Or world peace? Of course not. But like most scary, worthwhile things in life, it’s an opportunity—and those who risk it will learn depths of forgiveness, reconciliation, and renewal in ways others simply miss out on.

Still Learning

Of course, this is not “The Definitive Guide to Grief and Solidarity”. I’m still learning. I know what has felt good to me. And what I’ve done for others to stay close in their times of trouble. But what about you? What were the things people said to you that mattered? Do you have a Hall of Fame list of misplaced statements you’ve made trying to comfort others?

Some of us collect our disappointments to display like trophies. While some of us stack Ws until life knocks us back and we’re haunted by ghosts for the first time. My working theory is that the more intentional we are at using our whole bodies to walk with others in their disappointment, the better we can be at not floating through our own.

But maybe you see it differently? What am I getting wrong about my assessment here? What has your experience been? How can I get better at this?

Jeremy Courtney
@thejcourt