Witnessing the Suffering of Someone You Love

Most of us have felt overwhelmed with the anguish of worry that someone you love might end up in unfathomable trouble.

It could be a partner, or a child, or a parent, or a student, or a close friend. You know them. You love them. You see them making choices that are not in support of their well-being. And you think to yourself…”if only they would–––” (stop drinking/using, finish school, stop gambling, quit smoking, eat, get some help, get out of bed, get out of that bad relationship, ask for help, make changes...etc)

We do not have a clear guide that shows us how to be supportive without enabling. We think we know what they should do. How wrong they are. What mistakes they are making. And we might even be a little bit right.

In the meantime we suffer. We beg, we plead, we weep, we bargain, we issue mandates and ultimatums, we manipulate, we get angry, we shut them out, we punish, we freak out, we leave...all the while blaming this loved one for our anguish.

It is difficult to remember and listen to our truest, most loving selves. The Divine in each of us. The one who knows to lovingly support the journey of another.

There are people in my life I worry about. It is hard to witness their suffering. What my everyday self wants is my own suffering to be alleviated. It wants them to be “doing better” so it/I can be more comfortable. But my true, Divine self wants to be in love and service. To allow and trust that my loved ones will find their way. No matter the obstacle.

Because when I assume the worst, I am causing harm. When I lower my expectations…”They will never be able to…” When I do this kind of condemnation, I am forgetting

to trust

in the process of unfolding,

of becoming human,

that each of us must work through

on our own.

I forget that my love and trust surrounds the other with a homeopathic warmth. And I forget that this is the best remedy I can offer a struggling loved one. A silent belief that they can change when they are ready. And that change is slow... and one tiny uphill step at a time.

I think about how difficult it is for a seed to find just the right conditions for growth, to push up through the earth to feel the sun’s radiant warmth, only to find itself in the crack of a sidewalk near a dumpster. But still there are blossoms. And the sun shines on it. And the rain falls on it. And the wind and car exhaust blow on it. It finds its way. In spite of the lack of perfect conditions we might have prescribed.