Words That Heal

San Juan range, @benjoyment

I’ve asked for the help of my two dearest companions living on this steep road. I asked for their feedback on this question: What words have been healing and which have been hurtful over the course of your years with health issues and chronic pain?

My companions are Britt and Mark. We all were mountain guides in southwest Colorado. For Britt, her always-present and often disabling headache entered the scene after her years on the trail. Mark suffered a traumatic brain injury when a ball slammed into his head during a soccer game. He has experienced excruciating, unrelenting pain every single day for over ten years, and somehow manages to live with a big, silly smile and more energy than the rest of us. Mark and I have become accustomed to texting each other choice words on our harder days and gold star emojis on our better days. We do it acknowledge that, yes, we are still going through our journeys with illness and pain, and the other always understands. It's often a good fix.

I think it's something divine that the three of us to call our common ground the majestic San Juan Mountains, a range just as severe and rugged as it is overwhelmingly wild and beautiful- much like a life with pain and illness.

As a friend to someone who hurts, you may be at a loss of words. What can you possibly say in the presence of tremendous pain if you live in a body that rarely calls attention to itself? You’re not to blame.

These lists are intended to bring everyone – the healthy and the weary – in on the language that bears the power to heal. They might also help you see that perhaps well-intended words that cut deeper than you think.

What are some words or comments from others said in response to your situation that have been healing or helpful?

• “You are not a burden.”
• “I enjoy you just as much when you’re feeling well as when you’re not.”
• “If you never recover from this, it won’t matter to me. I’ll be here with you through it all.”
• “You’re making an impact. Others are growing from your experience.”
• “There is meaning to your suffering.” (and not following that up with a trite theological explanation)
• “This day doesn’t need you, but it sure could use you.”
• “It blesses me to help you. Serving and caring and showing up for you brings me life. SO LET ME HELP.”
• These are the specific ways I see you becoming stronger / more admirable / etc.
• “You’re story helps me understand/ handle/ face my own.”
• “You’re not too much. You’re not too much. You’re not too much…”
• “What can I do to understand your daily experience?”
• And, mostly, just remember us. "Those who make it clear that they know or remember or think about the fact that I have a headache or that I don’t feel well make me feel like I’m known, like I’m home. So it’s subtle questions or remarks that let me know that they know. Others simply remembering has been the most powerful of all, for all of us."

What are some words or comments that have not been helpful or you wish would rather not be said anymore?

• “It’s hard to believe you’re sick when you look so normal." or "You don't even look sick!"
• “How about we do (enter activity that would be really taxing, being in a loud concert, going for a long run)…?” (general forgetfulness of ongoing illness or pain. Even when it’s a good day, the burden never leaves us and is likely not going to be over soon)
• “Why don’t you drink coffee to wake up?”
• “I could never do what you do.” “How do you do it?” (disbelief)
• “So like you have a headache right now? So you’re fatigued right now?” (forgetting or just not comprehending)
• “I would never have known you had a headache/didn’t feel well. You’re always so ______ : positive, strong, happy….”
• “Have you ever tried ________?” (ideas for treatment—this is often the most overwhelming thing people say!)
• “Well compared to (some other illness or pain), it’s not that bad, right?”

Remember that these lists are intended to heal, not judge or point out wrongdoing. I think we can all use them as a challenge to be more gracious, selective and compassionate with our words. 

My advice? Spend some time with your hurting friend, look her in the eye and offer her sweet words she can drink like medicine. She longs to hear them.