“It’s not that big a deal. Other people have it worse”

“It’s probably for the best. They were in so much pain and now that’s over.”

“There are other fish in the sea. We didn’t know each other that long anyway.”

These are things said to me just this week as I listened to people grieving various losses in their lives. (Perhaps I even said one or more of these to myself as well.) And a year ago I might have let them slide. There’s nothing untrue about these statements, after all. But I can no longer let such words pass without question.

Certainly there are people who have it worse than you, but does that mean your pain doesn’t count?

Of course there is relief when the suffering of someone we love ends, but is it ever for the best that our loved one dies?

And yes, that person you dated for a short time is not the only option out there for you, but doesn’t it still hurt that it didn’t work out?

We are so quick to dismiss our own pain, in the name of strength or resilience, thinking that if we just ignore it, it will fade. We don’t want to be seen as weak, or inconvenience others who may not have time or resources to tend our pain well. Time heals all wounds, we tell ourselves. And we decide to just wait it out.

I’m sad to report that my extensive personal experience with painful circumstances proves that this way doesn’t work. Certainly, the pain gets buried under busyness and avoidance. We find ways to numb it, turning our backs on ourselves in favor of quick comfort and artificial highs. And as we cope, our armor gets thicker and thicker until we can barely move under its strictures.

A large part of my work as a pastor, a grief coach, a parent, a friend, and a person healing my own wounds, is simply to make space for people to let it hurt. To take off the armor for a moment or an hour and admit how deeply hurt we are underneath it. To stop comparing our pain to anything other than the deep desire we had for a different outcome than we got. To just stop coping and numbing and avoiding and burying and LET IT HURT.

And here is the beautiful thing: when we simply let it hurt, we affirm to ourselves that we loved deeply, that we lost valuable people and dreams, that we are at our very best and our very worst simply human. We experience inside ourselves the compassion we so readily offer to others, and the flow of that self-compassion becomes the balm we tried to avoid needing.

Consider this your invitation then to that balm of self-compassion, your challenges to make space today for your own pain. Carve out some safety for yourself, with a friend or alone, and let it hurt.