A friend of ours recently totaled their car in an accident. The resulting concussion was worse. Concussions are never fun, but this one lingered.
It’s often said that pain can help us dig deep, find that extra gear, and become stronger, more resourceful people. Maybe. But pain can also lead us into a maze of suffering, with no clear sense of when, or whether, we’ll find our way out.
With some kinds of pain, we have a reasonable sense of what’s wrong and what recovery will look like. It hurts, but we expect it to pass.
Suffering can threaten our very sense of who we are. The distinction goes beyond the severity of the symptoms: it concerns what the experience means for us as people. Physician Eric Cassell described this threat to the person as central to suffering.
When we’re suffering, it can be hard to believe that what we’re experiencing is temporary. It could go on forever. And even if we come out the other side, will we come out intact? We may feel that something essential is being taken from us. We may question our purpose, see ourselves as burdens to loved ones, or feel that we’ve lost the capacity to care for ourselves or contribute to others. Suffering may begin with a physical injury, but its effects reach much further.
That’s what our friend is dealing with. The symptoms, the uncertainty, the disrupted routines, the inability to participate in work and social life as before.
How Should We Support People Who Are Suffering?
So how should we support the people we care about who are suffering?
It’s not always clear. But putting pressure on them to be positive can worsen the burden. On top of what they’re already going through, they may feel added guilt for not handling it better. Research by Brock Bastian and colleagues suggests that feeling pressure not to experience negative emotions can make people feel worse. Post-traumatic growth seems like a big ask when someone is just trying to cope.
There’s also reason to be cautious about the claim that suffering makes us stronger. People sometimes report growth after trauma, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve changed in the ways they believe they have. In a prospective study of undergraduates, Patricia Frazier and colleagues found that reported growth generally did not correspond to changes measured before and after a traumatic event. The story we tell afterward may help us make sense of the experience, but that doesn’t mean it describes a measurable change.
And that’s OK. People can cope without growth. In two studies of people exposed to war or terrorism, Stephen Levine and colleagues found that participants with the greatest resilience reported the least post-traumatic growth. Here, the researchers defined resilience as the absence of post-traumatic stress disorder. People don’t need to emerge stronger to have coped well, and the process of coping may not leave much left in the tank.
Supporting Sufferers with Practical and Emotional Help
Instead of asking them to change their perspective, we can start by taking their symptoms and suffering seriously. Listen without trying to supply a silver lining. Support modest, achievable goals that matter to them, while recognizing that their capacity may change from day to day. Help with practical burdens.
Specific help that addresses a concrete need is often easier for them to accept. Take care of an errand. Bring over a casserole. Keep it simple, too; don’t make your friend have to organize your assistance. And remember: they may be in that maze for a while. That means they may still need help long after the initial attention has faded.
When we offer encouragement, it should be concrete and credible. Acknowledge something they’ve managed or a difficulty they’ve faced. We don’t have to make the situation sound cheerful or promise that everything will work out.
We can care about their recovery without requiring them to find a lesson in it. And we can keep showing up while they find their own way through.
