When you see someone keeping it all together, what would it mean to offer them the gift of exquisite care?
This past week, I have been keenly aware of how much emotion we suppress in order to present ourselves as fully competent people who “have it all together”. Two people have told me they filed for divorce recently but didn’t want to say anything about it so as not to interfere with their work. Another apologised profusely for cancelling a meeting at the last minute but it was because she’d received a call from the nursing home and her father’s passing was imminent – but she’d be back in touch next week. In each case, my heart just broke open for what these people must be going through, and how much energy it must take to still try to “keep it together”.
We put up these shields to help us operate in the world, but they also disconnect us from ourselves and others. Threshold moments of loss like divorce and death are not everyday occurrences – they are transitional moments that must be honoured and processed. Of course, it may not feel appropriate to broadcast these private moments to the world, but I’m grateful that these people shared them with me. It’s a reminder of how much I don’t know about people I interact with every day.
If you’re going through a time of loss, perhaps you will find some solace in John O’Donohue’s poem that I’ve chosen for this week. And if you’re not, perhaps try treating everyone you meet with exquisite care anyway. At a minimum, it will make their day a little brighter. And it might matter much more to them than you’ll ever know.
