“Yes, but can’t you see how blessed you are?”

“I know you are struggling, but have you heard about what happened to Sylvia, she’s got it way worse. Be glad you’re not her!”

“I think if you focused on being grateful for what you have you’d feel a lot better right now.”

“I know exactly how you feel!” (proceeded by a recitation of a completely unrelatable experience that seems much less compelling than yours).

Have you ever heard a retort similar to these when you have shared a difficult experience with another? Did it make you feel unheard and dismissed? Did the interaction seem as if it missed a much-desired piece, namely, empathy and compassion? I certainly have.

It is not a strength I come by naturally to open up and be vulnerable about how I feel. I have survived most of my life by being the “brave little soldier” and buttoning up my truth. That no longer works for me. But it is a challenge when I try to test out this fledgling vulnerability skill and I hear comments such as those outlined above. I think that for the most part people have good intentions and mean well. They don’t try to blow another person off or make them feel small for their genuine feelings.

But still…

I hope I have never been that individual, but I know for certain that I have been uncomfortable with the strong feelings of others and struggled to sit with them in their pain. It is so much easier to issue a platitude and move on to safer ground than to reckon with my powerlessness to change a difficult situation for someone I care for yet still witness and try to share their pain through silent listening.

Back in 2012, when the age was lowered for missionaries, my daughter now could serve a mission and suddenly we were preparing for her to leave. She departed to go across the world and serve in what seemed to me record time (in reality, a year). I was thrilled and proud of her, but it was also very tough. I missed her terribly and worried about her constantly. I struggled through some dark days, and, of course, at that time was living in a covertly abusive marriage. I literally felt like I had no one to talk to. Missions are sensitive subjects which bring up complicated feelings in people. Sometimes, when I shared that I was sad about my daughter being gone, people would stare, offended, and say, “You know what I would give to have a child worthy to serve a mission?!” So to top off my sadness, I then felt bad about unintentionally upsetting another.

The mother of my daughter’s MTC companion somehow found me and reached out. This was not her first experience of having a child serve and she understood everything. I still say she is the reason I was able to get through the rough bumps those eighteen months.

When my daughter returned, I promised myself I would be that person to other missionary moms. When missionaries are getting ready to leave, I’ll take the mom aside or shoot them a text. Essentially I say: this is a wonderful experience, but there are going to be some tough days. Please know, I am a safe person for any of your feelings. There is nothing that you are experiencing that I have not. I have taken many a tearful phone call. One day, I answered the phone to a yelling voice, “Are you kidding me that the church doesn’t let me know the address of my own son’s apartment?!” That was a valid worry for a mom sending her son to South America. I honored that I had felt the same way. When my daughters served, I imagined natural disasters and me not being able to know where rescuers could find my child. It is a huge leap of faith to not know anything besides the city your child is living in. But, I talked with this woman about my personal discovery why the church makes those kinds of rules—to protect the missionary. We both felt better after.

I recently went through a re-traumatizing decision. I decided to sell the home I have lived in for over a decade. The place where I raised my children. Though I knew moving made the most sense, it still was a challenge to part with a home I loved. I believed I would live there the rest of my life, or at least for many more years. But then my husband betrayed me and I needed to file for divorce. That changed everything. As I settled in a new home, I kept thinking about how this was yet another thing that my ex had taken away from me. Our family home. It was not a favorable transition for my kids. The house was put on the market and sold basically in one day for over asking price. It will close in a few weeks. While this is wonderful and I am grateful, I still am feeling unmoored and adrift. I decided to open up to a friend about how I am struggling. She said, in essence, “There is so much to be grateful about and I choose to be focused on that instead of the things that are going wrong.”

Ouch.

At her hasty comment, I felt that the very real pain I am experiencing was somehow wrong, or that I was some kind of a cold monster, incapable of seeing the good in my life. I am grateful, but also struggling. It made me feel bad about myself again, when I really just needed someone to listen to, and validate, my sorrow.

What I hoped she would say was, “Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be very difficult for you. Though I’ve never personally had this experience myself, I can only imagine how sad I would feel if this happened to me. Though I have not had a parallel experience, I hear your words and want you to know I support you and am here for you.”

If there nothing else I have learned through my recent life experiences, it is this: I can try to be that safe person. Just listen. Validate. It’s okay to say, “I wish I had something amazing to contribute right now, but I don’t. But I do want you to know that you are loved and I honor your experience.” Or, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could offer you some help or change this for you, but for now, I am here and want to listen and understand more.” For the most part, people are not looking for you to solve their problems or come up with solutions. If they are, let them ask. Instead, simply provide the missing piece: a listening, empathetic ear. It’s something we all have to freely give!