December 10, 2020 – Comparison is the thief of sadness

Last night Tom and I participated in a grief support group for parents who have lost children.  Through my own life experiences and the work I do professionally, I know the value of therapy and the importance of processing when healing from trauma.  Recognizing how deeply Benny’s loss has impacted us, I wanted us to get connected with counseling as quickly as we could.  I’m grateful for the resources that exist which have allowed us to do just that. 

During the group, we heard others tell their stories of losing their children and the impacts they’ve seen and felt in their lives.  As we listened, I found myself thinking, “Goodness, that situation is so much harder than ours.  I should be grateful that wasn’t the experience we faced.”  After the group, Tom and I continued to talk about our feelings and some of the things that had come up through the group discussion.  One of these was the idea of comparison.  I told Tom I found myself comparing our experience to the others, and in most cases feeling guilty that ours was “less bad.”

But it wasn’t less bad.  Losing a child is awful, no matter what the situation.  On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d say it’s a 10.  So what does it matter if someone else’s story also seems like a 10?  If it’s different than mine, does that mean mine can’t be a 10, too?  Is there only so much grief to go around, so if someone else seems to have it worse, somehow we have to surrender some of our own sadness?

We often hear that “comparison is the thief of joy.”  I know I’ve felt that in my life.  But today I’ve been thinking about how comparison may also be the thief of sadness, and that isn’t a good thing either.  While I believe wholeheartedly that it’s important to not get stuck in the sadness, I equally believe that we have to be willing to feel and process all the emotions we have in order to truly heal.  By mitigating our sadness, we lessen our chances of actually being able to grieve a situation and move forward.  You don’t go through losing a child without feeling sadness.  I know that for sure. But if you start to compare your situation to others and take your sadness away, I think that probably does more harm than good.

I’ve noticed a lot of well-meaning people in our lives—and even our own selves—say things recently that begin with “at least.”  “At least you had five months with him.”  “At least he wasn’t sick and in the hospital, leaving you with medical bills.”  “At least you have two other healthy children still.”  At least, at least, at least.  Unfortunately what I’ve found in these “at least” statements is an underlying sentiment that I shouldn’t feel bad for what we’ve been through because somehow it could have been worse.  But how can losing a child ever be anything but the worst? 

I’ve also noticed people say things to us like, “I can’t complain – my situation is nothing compared to what you’re going through.”  But why not?  What I’m going through is challenging for me, that’s true.  I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.  But what they’re going through is challenging for them, and they likely wouldn’t wish that on anyone either.  Whether it’s losing a child or suffering from an illness or coping with a family member’s mental health struggles or dealing with unemployment – challenges are challenges and we all have them.  So why do we feel a need to compare our challenges and somehow determine who wins for the most difficult?  When we do, I’m pretty sure nobody actually “wins.”   

I’m a firm believer in looking on the bright side of things.  I’ve tried to do that with this situation and am grateful for the silver linings and tender mercies I’ve been able to recognize.  There have been more than I can count and those beams of light are what get us through.  But, I think that if I don’t allow myself to properly grieve and also feel the sadness associated with losing my son, I’ll be doing myself a disservice.  I want to heal and move forward.  I don’t want to feel the sadness forever.  But if I skip over the sadness, how can I ever truly process through it?  If I tell myself that I don’t have a right to be sad, because someone has it worse (or at least it seems to me they have it worse), what benefit does that bring?  It doesn’t.  I feel like I’ve seen that in my life before, but it’s further been illuminated to me through this situation now.

What if instead of feeling like I shouldn’t be sad because our situation is “less bad” that someone else’s, I gave myself the space and time to actually feel my sadness and work through it?  What if instead of thinking “at least” this or “at least” that, I realized that sometimes life is just hard and that’s okay?  What if instead of comparing my situation or grief journey with someone else’s, I remembered that there’s no right or wrong way to grieve and I just need to do what’s best for me?  What if?

It feels so much more uplifting to think of these “insteads.”  I don’t want to compare my situation to others, because it doesn’t feel right to try and weigh challenges.  Yet I think there’s something about our human minds and trying to understand and put things in a context or frame that we understand which causes us to do so.  As I connected with my sweet Benny today, I definitely felt that I needed to let go of the comparisons and just allow myself to feel and process and grieve.  And when I do, I’ll be able to more clearly see my path for moving forward.  Because that’s what I want. To move forward – not just living without my angel Benny, but living with the joy and love he’s left behind.

Comparison is the thief of joy, but through this experience I think I’ve come to realize it’s also the thief of sadness.  Really, it seems to be the thief of everything.  And nobody likes a thief!