It’s Christmas time and it can feel as if the whole World is joyful. Except for you. That no-one can understand your sadness, especially now. That you are so alone.

Please, hold on.

Not everything has a reason that can be found or seen and you can drive yourself crazy trying to make sense of some things. Sometimes, things simply are. There is no reason and it can be a waste of time and energy to seek it. Some things are beyond ‘fixing.’ They cannot be mended or put right. They must be endured and borne.

Bearing them is painful. It’s a form of grieving. And grief is brutal. Harsh. Raw. But we have to walk through it. Even though when it hurts, it’s an open wound which for the longest time seems impossible to heal.

Walk through it.

Whether it’s the end of something, a marriage, a friendship, an affair; or the loss of a loved one, or a livelihood; or whether it’s being forced to face betrayal from someone close, it is devastating. Debilitating. We feel as if we’ve been kicked in the guts. Keep breathing, a moment at a time. Those moments add up.

Walk through it.

These terrible, hurtful experiences do in some cases lead to personal growth. But it is simply not true that in order to grow we have to smile through awful pain. It can leave us so wounded and depleted, it’s all we can do for a time to just keep on breathing. We don’t live through that shadowy time. We exist. But we endure. We go on. We grieve.

Loss; of health, loved ones, friendships and more, has not magically improved me as a human being. At times it has done the reverse. I have felt embittered. Resented people. Hated them. I’ve felt some of the softness within me turn to hardness. There is no comforting ‘trade-off’ as a reward for the pain.

I am more aware of the pain of others but also more inclined to protect myself. I feel a certain cynicism. And I’m far less patient, especially with people who it seems have led a charmed life, untouched by worry or trauma. This is intensified at Christmas.

The pain from my painful experiences won’t disappear, but I’ve harnessed its energy and I use it. I’ve dug deep and written it into my work and my life. But it would feel disrespectful and trite to say I ‘needed’ the bad experiences in order to become who I am. Like trivialising the loss of my loved ones. Or the battles fought by others, similar to my own, who may not have made it through. So far.

I don’t have enough arrogance to believe that I was ‘spared’ just so that I could ‘help’ others in some way. And it certainly has nothing to do with strength, or taking responsibility, because others are stronger and more responsible than I could ever be. But too often, I’ve heard people in pain being told to ‘take responsibility’ for their feelings in order to get better and it makes me mad!

You don’t ‘take responsibility’ for losing a loved one, or for having cancer, or for being assaulted or betrayed.

You take responsibility for what you do afterwards. For your own actions and your own life. But you don’t choose whether or not you grieve. That hell is within. There’s no escape. We cannot control the uncontrollable. At this time of year that can feel simply too much to endure.

So what can we do when we’re in the midst of so much pain? Either experiencing it or seeing it in a loved one?

We can avoid the trite easy fixes. The ‘pull yourself together/it’ll get better/it’ll make you stronger/we’ve all been there’ toxic rubbish.

By repeating the cliches, however well-meaning we are, we’re denying the person who is suffering, whether a loved one or ourselves, the right to feel. To be angry. To grieve. And that takes away from someone who is already depleted, just when they are weakest.

I’ve been brought to my knees by grief at times. It’s overwhelming. So draining I thought at my lowest that all hope was gone. That it would literally kill me. I am not the same as before the grief. In some ways that is good but in others, not so much.

The ones who helped me, who really, really, helped me, who saved me-were the ones who sat with me. Who were simply there. When it would have been so easy to run for the hills.

They didn’t have answers. They didn’t ‘fix’ me. They stayed with me and gave me their greatest gift. Themselves. Their presence. A shoulder. An ear. A hug.

I survived grief-no, I AM SURVIVING grief-because people loved me. To some; my husband and my best friends, I owe the most, because they were there the most. But all helped and all played their part. They loved me without words. They suffered with me, and gave me their presence, even when I was at my worst and least lovable. They stayed. They loved me enough to be willing to cry with me. Hold me. Suffer with me. Open themselves up in the least comfortable ways. Bleed too.

It may have been a morning of their life. An hour of their day. A few minutes of their night. They have no idea how vital, how powerful that time was.

Change and growth have happened for me, because I have been allowed to grieve. Grief does not block or damage. It isn’t an obstacle.

Yet in our society ‘grief’ is treated as a problem. To be ‘got over.’ People are embarrassed by it. They don’t know what to say, how to react. They are desperate to make it go away. To cure it. But grief is not a problem, it is necessary. Normal. Healthy. Essential. We instinctively try to avoid it because it’s painful. We even try to ignore it.

So when you’re faced with tragedy, you find that people often simply disappear. Or worse-they trot out all those old easy clichés.

What can we do? What can we offer to someone in all that pain?

Well for a start don’t try to make it go away. The last thing they want or need is to be ‘fixed,’ to have their pain minimalised or trivialised by your ‘good intentions.’ For someone who is suffering, it takes great courage to venture anywhere near to other people. They can be so crass, so unintentionally cruel.

What you CAN do, is let them know that you are there, available to them.

You can say, ‘I am here. I am with you.’ And mean it. Be there with them.

Be with them. You don’t have to actively ‘do’ anything. Being present, willing to suffer alongside them, is incredibly valuable.

Simply showing acceptance, acknowledging grief, is so powerful and such an unselfish and powerful act of love towards another. You need no special training courses, no extra skills. Just to care enough to be present for as long as you’re needed. There is no time limit on grief and anyone who tries to tell you that there is never had a piece of their heart ripped out, leaving an open, bleeding wound.

Just be there. Even when it feels awkward. When you feel useless. Stay. You are so vital at those times. This is where the recovery and the healing starts. When others are willing to share the pain. When they will grieve alongside us.

When you are in pain, when you need such people, please, dig deep and find enough motivation to ensure you find them. They are there, but you may need to look hard. If you feel totally alone, go to your GP. Ring a helpline. Love yourself enough to get the help.

And if you don’t need someone to be there with you right now, if you’re lucky enough not to be grieving, then please look around you and if someone else does- please be that person.