The Grief-Wounded Don't Want Help

I’ve been reflecting on a few patterns of behavior I have seen in the people around me who are grieving with me. We all grieve in our own way, which can seem baffling from the outside but are natural to the griever’s recovery process. The patterns of grief really don’t follow a specific predictability (i.e. the 5 stages of grief).

Grief is a wound. A deep, anguish-filled wound. Therefore, those who are grieving are the wounded going forth in a field of fog after a battle with little to no armor left and barely hanging on to the life we knew. The warrior metaphor is common when you discuss trauma and grief, but it works so well when you strip away the armor and metaphorical strength and resilience that life experiences are supposed to give you. I do not feel strong nor resilient. I feel hollow and numb.

Any animal who is wounded does not whine and moan for comfort and then gladly and opening except the help when it arrives (e.g. people offering help to a person who is grieving). The animal may moan and cry for help, but they lash out, claw or bite when the help arrives. Even though this may be the first step toward soothing their wounds, the animal doesn’t want help. It wants comfort and sees the person as a threat or someone to wound them further. The fear that they feel is valid and shouldn't be ignored. They must be handled with patience and tenderness to allow them to receive the care they need.

A grief-wound can trigger the similar behavior in people. The wounded may cry out for help, but when it is offered, it isn’t what they need. It's only what the helpers want to give. Another wounded person may never audibly cry out for help, but inwardly they are screaming for something or someone to soothe their aching heart. There may be wounded couples who grieve in different ways that push each other apart because of the wounds they individually feel as well as they bare together. They cannot soothe each other, because they feel they cannot soothe themselves. Then why would they think they can soothe one another?

There are many permutations of grief-wounded behavior. What I have observed and wish to highlight is that wounded people don’t want help, because we don’t think there is anything that can or ever will help us. What we want is comfort. Comfort is not judgmental, not confrontational, not destructive, not demanding, not coercive, not manipulative, and not selfish. Comfort is— I see you and hear you. It’s presence, consideration, warmth, time, space, & a listening heart.

Our grief-wounds will never heal, because healing requires there to be a cure. We won’t ever be cured of the wound that is grief. The wound may one day not be as fresh and anguished as it once was, but it will always be there.

I have learned a great deal from this discovery and how it affects me and the people grieving around me. I cannot offer help because there isn’t any. I can offer comfort whenever I am capable of giving it. There is no timeline of when the wounded will be able to in turn give comfort. It is foolish to put time limits on grief. It will only make it feel endless.

In order for us, the grief-wounded, to receive comfort, we must reach out to someone we can trust but who is also not in the throes of our same grief. This person may not know the acuteness of our pain, but they have been through their own experiences to know how much being comforted means when you are wounded.

May we find comfort and solace somewhere and with the kindness of someone embracing us and letting their presence say everything that is needed.