This is such a timely post. I really needed the reminders to be a present listener. My dad is in his last chapter of life and is sharing so many stories. We often feel uncomfortable when a parent is sharing painful memories that we want to change the subject but allowing the space to really listen is when you create a deeper connection. Thank you for lighting my path with your stories.
"Do you want to say more?" What a generous way to listen and hold space for someone's story. I'm working on being a better listener and I'm going to practice this. I will be quoting your wisdom on podcast episodes, in real life, and inside my own head as I work on doing better.
I love this so much! Thank you for sharing. It reminds me of the way people react to grief, another form of trauma. They often try to skip over it and not allow it to settle in. I know as a white person, I was raised to not talk about race. Sometimes it's hard to just sit back and process the pain of white supremacy. Hugs to you!
The way that you combine the active listening response with the idea of just being there, providing space for the person, and being mindful of the importance of not doing any harm. Also, you are just such a great writer.
Thank you SO MUCH for this much needed conversation about how to make space for someone in their moment of sharing their pain. When my grandson died, I was forced to shut the world out. One person went on to make it about their dog being sick, countless others told me I needed to move on, and then the multitudes brought THEIR religion into it. I am not religious so when I was met with, "He's in a better place," I wanted to scream, "Then send YOUR child there!". Or, "God needed another angel in heaven." "No! He did not!" Making space for others in their trauma is a lost art; or maybe it's never been an art at all. But it's about time we stop and learn to listen and respond in a way that helps, not hurt the griever. Your example was absolutely beautiful. We are adults and we need to learn to respond with grace and maturity; but in actuality, the best place to teach people is to start by teaching them in the first grade. You are my hero Julie.
Oh Renae I'm so sorry you lost your grandson and thank you for sharing that here. Thank you also for sharing the compounding trauma that can occur when people don't respond thoughtfully. Sending you a huge hug. And thank you for your kind words.
Thank you Julie. I've spent a lot of time over the past five years, contemplating this subject, and it was such a welcome relief to see not only that you addressed it, but how well you addressed it. Keep on blogging!!!
I really like how you explained 4 kinds of responses to students. I am going to “borrow” those words if I may, as I work with my own young students on building empathetic listening skills. And I can relate to not always being heard by close family due to hard-to-hear content or their own limitations. Thank you for this entry.
Thanks for sharing the stories about the kids’ reactions, it made me tear up. The relate piece is so tricky. As someone who has lived with serious illness for 18 years, often people will share stories of their own very temporary illnesses or injuries in an attempt to relate to my experience. While I know it’s well intentioned, it often ends up minimizing my illness or shifting the focus. I’d rather that someone acknowledge that they can’t really relate and just offer empathy and compassion, instead of telling me about that one time they had mono in college.
Yes yes yes oh goodness yes. Thanks for opening up here about how your illness gets minimized. That must infuriate and sadden you all at once. Sending a huge hug.
This is a beautiful post, and it contains many great lessons, so I must apologize for being distracted by the first paragraph: "For example, they’re both white and had the gall to fall in love with Black men back when it was considered transgressive for white women to do so. And they both raised biracial children when biracial wasn’t cool."
Your mom was my chemistry teacher during that time and you were the WAY cute toddler who sometimes followed her around school. We lived in a progressive bubble, and it never occurred to my teenage self that you OR your mom were transgressive. Your dad was an icon, and back then I was entirely oblivious to the culture of white supremacy that we were seeped in. I was raised with oh so *liberal* values that blinded me to the realities outside. Thank you for sharing that truth.
I can remember more than a few times when a student who obviously had come to trust me told me something between the two of us (not something which would require psychological intervention) that bothered them and they simply needed an adult they trusted hear them. That's it - they simply needed to be heard by someone they felt would understand. One example was a student who had been told by her parents she was going to Hell for being gay. She was a mentally pretty mature 10th grader. I listened. My face told her I was listening and cared. When it came time for me to say something, I simply said, Love your parents for all of the good things they do for you, and no, you're not going to Hell. She then went on about her day. In subsequent class sessions, she was just one of my engaged students enjoying whatever we were doing that day in the college-prep class.
This is such a timely post. I really needed the reminders to be a present listener. My dad is in his last chapter of life and is sharing so many stories. We often feel uncomfortable when a parent is sharing painful memories that we want to change the subject but allowing the space to really listen is when you create a deeper connection. Thank you for lighting my path with your stories.
This is a wonderful piece. THNK YOU
"Do you want to say more?" What a generous way to listen and hold space for someone's story. I'm working on being a better listener and I'm going to practice this. I will be quoting your wisdom on podcast episodes, in real life, and inside my own head as I work on doing better.
Thanks for sharing this story.
I love this so much! Thank you for sharing. It reminds me of the way people react to grief, another form of trauma. They often try to skip over it and not allow it to settle in. I know as a white person, I was raised to not talk about race. Sometimes it's hard to just sit back and process the pain of white supremacy. Hugs to you!
Beautiful, yes yes yes!
Always love your columns but this is one of the very best. Thank you.
I'm so glad u liked. What aspect of it resonated most?
The way that you combine the active listening response with the idea of just being there, providing space for the person, and being mindful of the importance of not doing any harm. Also, you are just such a great writer.
Thank you SO MUCH for this much needed conversation about how to make space for someone in their moment of sharing their pain. When my grandson died, I was forced to shut the world out. One person went on to make it about their dog being sick, countless others told me I needed to move on, and then the multitudes brought THEIR religion into it. I am not religious so when I was met with, "He's in a better place," I wanted to scream, "Then send YOUR child there!". Or, "God needed another angel in heaven." "No! He did not!" Making space for others in their trauma is a lost art; or maybe it's never been an art at all. But it's about time we stop and learn to listen and respond in a way that helps, not hurt the griever. Your example was absolutely beautiful. We are adults and we need to learn to respond with grace and maturity; but in actuality, the best place to teach people is to start by teaching them in the first grade. You are my hero Julie.
Oh Renae I'm so sorry you lost your grandson and thank you for sharing that here. Thank you also for sharing the compounding trauma that can occur when people don't respond thoughtfully. Sending you a huge hug. And thank you for your kind words.
Thank you Julie. I've spent a lot of time over the past five years, contemplating this subject, and it was such a welcome relief to see not only that you addressed it, but how well you addressed it. Keep on blogging!!!
I really like how you explained 4 kinds of responses to students. I am going to “borrow” those words if I may, as I work with my own young students on building empathetic listening skills. And I can relate to not always being heard by close family due to hard-to-hear content or their own limitations. Thank you for this entry.
Please do borrow! Glad to be of use. And here's a hug for family dynamics that make it hard to share or be truly heard.
Thanks for sharing the stories about the kids’ reactions, it made me tear up. The relate piece is so tricky. As someone who has lived with serious illness for 18 years, often people will share stories of their own very temporary illnesses or injuries in an attempt to relate to my experience. While I know it’s well intentioned, it often ends up minimizing my illness or shifting the focus. I’d rather that someone acknowledge that they can’t really relate and just offer empathy and compassion, instead of telling me about that one time they had mono in college.
Yes yes yes oh goodness yes. Thanks for opening up here about how your illness gets minimized. That must infuriate and sadden you all at once. Sending a huge hug.
This is a beautiful post, and it contains many great lessons, so I must apologize for being distracted by the first paragraph: "For example, they’re both white and had the gall to fall in love with Black men back when it was considered transgressive for white women to do so. And they both raised biracial children when biracial wasn’t cool."
Your mom was my chemistry teacher during that time and you were the WAY cute toddler who sometimes followed her around school. We lived in a progressive bubble, and it never occurred to my teenage self that you OR your mom were transgressive. Your dad was an icon, and back then I was entirely oblivious to the culture of white supremacy that we were seeped in. I was raised with oh so *liberal* values that blinded me to the realities outside. Thank you for sharing that truth.
This says such beautiful things about you Rachel
I can remember more than a few times when a student who obviously had come to trust me told me something between the two of us (not something which would require psychological intervention) that bothered them and they simply needed an adult they trusted hear them. That's it - they simply needed to be heard by someone they felt would understand. One example was a student who had been told by her parents she was going to Hell for being gay. She was a mentally pretty mature 10th grader. I listened. My face told her I was listening and cared. When it came time for me to say something, I simply said, Love your parents for all of the good things they do for you, and no, you're not going to Hell. She then went on about her day. In subsequent class sessions, she was just one of my engaged students enjoying whatever we were doing that day in the college-prep class.
Beautiful