When the Afternoon and Morning Meet
*This Note was originally scheduled to be sent last Thursday. Due to community circumstances, I decided to wait before sending. Loving gratitude to all who have reached out with kindness, concern, and support. Deepest appreciation for all who contribute to the protection and peace of our world.
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Greetings to you, from me, currently moving through March in the Midwest, where each day reveals any one of the four seasons (and like Frost’s quote, the afternoon can look surprisingly different from the morning)…
I say this with good humor. Having lived in Michigan my whole life, it would seem silly to be surprised by the weather, and counterproductive to complain about it.
This quote may sound familiar if you’ve visited my website: I remember the very moment, sitting at my kitchen table, when I instinctively knew this keenly felt sentiment belonged on my home page.
The last two weeks have brought this quote to life in my personal world. On the day I was scheduled to fly to Israel to visit my university-student daughter there, I awoke to news of war: notification that my flight had been canceled, and more importantly, a text from my daughter letting me know she was safe and well.
The same week, my youngest came home from college for his mid-winter break, and promptly became sick with a horrible flu. Because I was home instead of in Israel, I was able to be present for his needs.
Indeed, Robert Frost’s insight rings true in many ways.
Professionally, I notice how often we act on assumptions about the metaphorical afternoon while stewing about something in the equally metaphorical morning. *I use the pronouns ‘we/us’ intentionally to convey the collective nature of these behaviors by most humans, with individual variations among us*
As a therapist focusing on transitions occurring on the aging journey, grief is a frequent topic. It’s interesting for me to observe reactions and interactions on the grief continuum.
When we are grieving - whether for someone who has died, or for the loss experienced while someone is still alive and in decline - it’s common to default to expectations about how others show up for us.
How often do you notice emotions that result from narratives around the behavior of others? This tendency to make assumptions can quickly lead to unwarranted hurt feelings, resentment, or anger.
Examples include:
“I can’t believe they haven’t called me since [insert length of time]!”
“I am so disappointed in how absent they’ve been.”
“How could they be so insensitive to my needs?”
When I ask, “Have you let this person know how you’re feeling,” the answer is invariably, “No.”
Have we considered the lack of information directing our thoughts, and noticed how we fill in the blanks with our own narrative?
In times of grief, it's understandable to expect gentle treatment and presence from others.
However, it remains important to consider their perspective:
Are they also grieving?
Are they historically inward in times of stress?
Are they mutually invested in the relationship you share?
I offer these thoughts with utmost kindness and heartfelt sensitivity. They are yours to ponder, to be curious about, and perhaps to help reveal a new perspective.
Speaking of plans and unexpected twists, here is your timely reminder for the groups coming up in April, May, and June. Learn more about each group here, and register here.
Yours in both the expected and unexpected,
