They Never Knew
One woman’s journey from profound regret to genuine connection
Early in my career as a psychologist, Janie*, a sad-looking woman in her late 40’s, walked into my office. She was referred by her medical doctor following multiple visits in which she complained about chronic exhaustion due to poor sleep. In her first session, Janie told me that she had lost her husband unexpectedly two years earlier, while her children were teenagers. She presented as depressed and weary, complaining mostly of an inability to function well during the day due to sleep-deprivation.
In the first few weeks of treatment, I asked Janie many questions about the experience of losing her husband. I inquired about her children’s experiences of losing their father. I questioned her about all aspects of being widowed at such a young age. Janie’s responses were brief and vague, many accompanied by a shaking of her head and “I don’t know.” She focused on her inability to sleep and how disruptive that was. As hard as I tried to access the feelings associated with her tragic loss, I was unable to break through the barrier of self-protection Janie brought with her into our sessions. She didn’t have much to say and didn’t seem engaged in her own process of grieving. Honestly, I was having a difficult time connecting with her and found myself frustrated early in the treatment.
A few weeks after I met Janie, in response to my continued stream of questioning, she told me about her husband’s funeral. Her husband had been part of a community of men who formed their town’s volunteer fire department. Their social lives, and in a sense, their identity as a family, revolved around this community. My ears perked up as she described the fire chief, the dozens of uniformed fire fighters and the shiny trucks standing by, honoring the young husband and father who had lost his life suddenly on a camping trip with his son’s boy scout troop.
Janie described herself as dissociated during the funeral, unable to process the enormity of the experience and the reality of her loss. It was evident to me that she had remained disconnected from her grief and any other feelings that might have accompanied her loss. As she told me about the funeral, Janie appeared numb to her emotions.
I have never forgotten the words that came out of Janie’s mouth that day, after she described the funeral. She said, “The thing that made me the most sad is that he never knew how much they cared about him and they never knew how much he cared about them.” In that moment, it was as if the spell of numbness that had been cast upon her began to lift. Tears filled her eyes. For the first time since I met her, I had access to Janie’s heart, her emotions and her vulnerability. “Tell me more,” I said. She felt her own heartbreak, describing how the group of guys from the fire department cared so much about each other, yet never acknowledged their connection or expressed how they felt to one another. Despite their camaraderie, they didn’t have the communication or emotional skills to bridge the human divide. Tears streamed from Janie’s eyes as she felt the sting of recognition that for her husband, it was too late.
There was something about Janie’s revelation that sat with me, unsettled, as we continued to work together. I had a sense that her comment had significance beyond the sadness she felt for her husband and his friends. Gradually, Janie began to talk about her own disappointment and lack of fulfillment in her relationships with family and friends. While she had some acquaintances and maintained contact with the fire department community, she said she didn’t feel close to anyone. Given how difficult it had been for me to initially establish an emotional rapport with her, Janie’s experience of feeling cut off from people didn’t surprise me.
What took me by surprise was my own revelation, about two years into treatment, that this was what she had been trying to tell me all along. In her own way, in her own words, or lack thereof, Janie had been letting me know that this was why she had come to therapy in the first place. She had witnessed the excruciating pain of regret that comes from losing someone too soon, before they know how much you loved them or could express how much they loved you. She didn’t want to die that way. She didn’t want to live that way. Motivated by a desire to avoid the tragic fate of her husband and his buddies, she had unknowingly come to therapy to learn how to love and be loved.
Two years into therapy and four years after her husband passed away, Janie began to address her own style of relating to others. She learned that her tendencies to engage in cordial, superficial conversation, avoid conflict at any cost and ignore her own wants and needs were maintaining her feelings of isolation and disconnection. Over time, she developed a close friendship with Barbara, a woman who had also been widowed young. With Barbara, Janie was able to be honest about her thoughts and feelings, make herself vulnerable and receive genuine feedback. For the first time in her life, Janie felt alive in a relationship.
Janie showed up week after week to our sessions with a willingness to confront her own resistance and fear of emotional intimacy. In a style she referred to as “gentle nudging,” I encouraged her to explore her desire to be closer to people and taught her how to use words and actions to facilitate that closeness.
Janie found her way out of the darkness of isolation and loneliness, and into the light and love of many fulfilling connections. She worked hard to build satisfying bridges with her children as they aged into adulthood and values the meaningful relationships they share. After many years of self-exploration, solid support from her dear friend Barbara and much patience with my gentle nudging, Janie found a man who adores her. She feels loved and experiences love for him with a full heart.
Janie walked into my office unknowingly driven by a desire to avoid the pain of missed opportunity for human connection she felt on behalf of her husband and his friends. She gradually and gently nudged herself, and allowed herself to be nudged, out of her comfort zone until she found the quality of relationships she desired. Janie is an inspiration to all of us to love and be loved as if we have no guarantee that we will have that chance tomorrow.
OBSERVE - CHOOSE - INTEGRATE
OBSERVE:
Are there any important people in your life who don’t know how much they mean to you?
What obstacles are standing in your way of letting them know?
Are you aware of how family members and friends feel towards you?
What obstacles are standing in your way of finding out?
Are your connections with family and friends genuine? Fulfilling?
Do you feel any regret for not having expressed your feelings to loved ones who are no longer here? Are you able to tolerate those feelings of regret? How disruptive are they?
CHOOSE:
Come out of your comfort zone gradually and gently.
Practice having conversations that will bring you closer to people.
Take a small risk by making yourself vulnerable in person or by phone.
Avoid revealing personal or vulnerable information by social media or text if you want genuine connection.
Know your audience and choose to reveal your feelings to someone you believe you can trust.
Learn how to express yourself with vulnerability and openness. Start by reading or listening to anything by Brene’ Brown on the topic of vulnerability.
Ask personal questions rather than keeping things on the surface. Answer personal questions with honesty and openness.
Example: Janie was having trouble writing thank you notes to friends and family who had helped her celebrate an occasion. She was frustrated by her inability to meaningfully express her gratitude and wanted to find words to express her feelings genuinely towards each person. During session, we explored various options for each note. Janie challenged herself to move beyond her habitual generic niceties by thinking about what she was specifically grateful for in each individual. In the process of personalizing the notes, she became more aware of what each person meant to her and was able to reflect those feelings in writing to her friends and family.
Don’t give in to resistance or avoidance.
Just because something feels hard or requires effort doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing.
Strengthen your commitment and discipline muscles by having that difficult conversation even if you’re afraid.
INTEGRATE:
The Coronavirus pandemic is not something any of us would have invited into our lives. During this period, most of us know people who have lost family members, friends or their own lives. Let’s use these tragic losses as a reminder that life is fragile. We have the choice to move out of our comfort zones and into deeper connection or hope that we don’t regret not doing so. I hope we choose to move closer.
We need each other now more than ever.
* Janie is not the actual name of my former patient. The patient has read this article and given express permission for me to post