Avoidance keeps us stuck
It’s tempting to avoid hard and unpleasant things. Tough conversations, big changes, cleaning our closets.
But the annoying reality is that avoiding real issues doesn’t make them go away. It makes them linger and impedes possibilities. In many ways, it makes things worse.
My sister and I got to talking about this over the weekend, particularly as it comes up interpersonally. I hadn’t really thought about avoidance in this context before, but it’s real.
My little sis, Blair, is in her second year as a college professor in Iowa. She is six months pregnant and has many reasons to be excited and in a good place. But she’s in grief.
Blair’s best friend since second grade, Laura, suddenly and unexpectedly died over the summer.
To say this was a shock is an understatement. One day, Blair and Laura were talking about their hopes and dreams and laughing about the oversized family photo in Laura’s living room, in which her kids were bigger than in real life. The next day, Laura was in the hospital. Four days later, she was gone.
I still can’t believe it.
Laura was a mom to three young kids. A 4-year-old, 2-year-old and 7-month-old baby. She had a husband, an extremely close family, a lifelong soul-friend in my sister and she was a beloved elementary school teacher. She was vivaciously full of life, with uncanny optimism and cheeriness and a contagious laugh that I hope I’ll never stop hearing in my head. I could go on and on, but the point is she was extraordinary and deeply loved. She was also just 34 years old. What exactly happened is still somewhat unclear, and the loss is tremendous.
Blair is lucky to have work flexibility, especially during the summer, so she left Iowa and spent a solid month in our Connecticut hometown. Being around Laura’s family and helping in any way she could gave her a sense of purpose and comfort. She was even tempted to resign from her job to stay there, but she returned home with a very heavy heart, feeling almost like a different person.
Yet back in Iowa, it was as like nothing ever happened. No one said a word about the loss.
If you’ve ever been in that situation, it’s disconcerting. And it’s understandable.
I remember talking to a mentor in high school whose son had suddenly died. We had a long conversation in the weeks after his death, and the whole time, I wondered if I should mention it. Would it upset him? Maybe he didn’t want to be reminded? I wasn’t sure, so I left it alone. I regret that.
I now know that when folks are in pain — they lose a loved one, are experiencing health problems, are going through divorce — asking about it doesn’t make things worse. It’s probably the only thing they’re thinking about anyway. If they don’t want to talk about it, they’ll tell you, but acknowledging the situation and asking how they’re doing is not only appropriate, it’s kind. It also opens the door for connection and healing.
With that in mind, Blair told her students about Laura on the first day of the semester.
She’s in the math education department, so she’s teaching college students how to become math teachers. She wasn’t sure if she should share, but her heartache was too real to not acknowledge. So, when it was time to introduce herself, she gave her bio, then went on.
She shared that part of her wanted to wear a sign that said “please handle with care” because just a few weeks prior, she couldn’t comprehend getting herself together to teach. She told her class about Laura. How awesome she was and how unexpected her passing was.
She said that, as teachers, it’s important to remember “we don’t know what our students are going through, so finding ways to get to know them and attend to that is critical.”
She said, “We can’t focus or attempt to learn if these other things aren’t acknowledged.”
She leaned in.
After class, one student emailed that she was struck by the story and Blair’s vulnerability. She wrote a heartfelt message and asked if my sister would be willing to meet to talk about what kind of friend, wife and mom Laura was so that she could create a piece of art for her family.
Beautiful things can happen when we turn toward our sore spots instead of looking the other way or pretending they’re not there.
Avoidance, on the other hand, gets us nowhere.
So, let’s lean in when the opportunity presents itself. Let’s face the hard stuff internally and as we see it come up for others. With thoughtfulness, compassion and care, let’s engage.
We don’t have to perform grand gestures or even know a person super well. It can be as simple as checking in (“I’ve been thinking about you. How are you doing today?”) or showing up. The bottom line is to approach instead of avoid. It may not always be pretty or perfect, and by nature it probably won’t be easy, but it’s worth it. We’re all better for it.
And I have to believe Laura is rooting for that.