Talking to Someone in Pain

This essay is currently a draft and still in the works.

Last Updated: Dec 11

#draft 5

Lately, I've found myself in deep, heartfelt conversations with close friends, sharing moments where they've shared the weight of their struggles. I felt humbled listening as they shared their agony, but every conversation leaves me with the dilemma of what an appropriate response should have been. Do I truly understand what they feel? In extreme cases -- when they uncontrollably break down in tears, my uncertainty on how to respond increases exponentially. They are having a vulnerable episode and trust that I would not let them down. The uncertainty of how useful I was, burdens my heart. Did I say the right thing? Did I keep silent at the right moment? What effect will this conversation leave going forward? And I ask these questions because, I believe I ought not to give advice; as a rule of thumb-- at least, that's the holy grail.

Nassim Taleb lays this out more succinctly in his book Skin in the game, and I couldn't agree more. He explains that, we should be weary about those who wouldn't eat their own turtle. In his own words,

Beware of the person who gives advice, telling you that a certain action on your part is “good for you” while it is also good for him,while the harm to you doesn’t directly affect him.

Essentially, when I give advice, I do not live to bear suffering that comes with my "enlightenment". I do not have my skin in the game. It's fundamentally wrong for me to partake in the glory of the upside but bear the least repercussions for pitfalls. Advice solves the current problem of relief from the stress of thinking through the complex web of the issues at hand, but at the expense of a sophisticated, enduring solution to the longer lasting pain in the neck. Not a good formula for a "successful" conversation with someone in grief.

Which begs the question. When is advice solicited? A story, for another day. But, it's fairly established that, advice is not the go to response for a conversation with someone in distress.

If I cannot give advice, how can I be useful in the conversation? A paraphrase of this question and a better version is: what does the person need me to do for them?

In the book supercommunicators, Charles Duhigg proposes 3 reasons someone going through an emotional trauma would talk to you. He makes the case that they either want to be heard, hugged or helped; triple H (3-H). I will attempt deconstructing when which is appropriate.

disclaimer: I am yet to read the book, so this is the right side half of my brain at work.

"Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him." Proverbs 22: 15. When I was younger, my mother made good use of the rod. She whipped stubbornness out of my "heart"; Thank God, I still have some remains of useful stubbornness. I was so stubborn that it's hard to put in to words. My super-mom had other plans; thank you "la mere for me". Eventually, I became immune to the beating. Every evening, I had a dose of Proverbs 22:15 ( I don't know who put that verse there, for God's sake!), and it became habit. I would go plug a coffee tree branch every evening when I identified a solid mishap I had engineered earlier that day. Eventually, the rod reached it's maximum capacity, no amount of whipping could fix my "foolishness", but something else hit me. On days when my mom was super frustrated with work or familial issues, she would take it out on me, her words hit even harder. I would feel terrible not because of the whips (remember I got immunity on that already) but because of how she felt. When she would talk to me in pain. it was not so I could help her, or hug her (though it would be a great idea on a normal day,but remember I was the culprit for chaos in the first place), she would rather be heard. I didn't have to say anything, I just had to receive the correction and listen to her.

And we have all witnessed this. When you meet someone who has bottled up frustrations -- from wherever they are coming from -- and the sight of a fly is enough to make them go ballistic. They rant out their lamentations and with the least clarity in vision you will quickly realize that, it's not you they are furious with. They've been carrying heavy and they just needed to offload and you were there (at the wrong time). Those people just need to be heard -- and maybe hugged, depending on their personality and your relationship with them. More often that not, the content of their lamentation has absolutely nothing to do with you or the trigger. All they want to know is: "I hear you". Not that you have to say it out loud.

Personally, I do not enjoy receiving or giving hugs; that's not to say that I have anything against them. I do enjoy witnessing a big warm hug -- an expression of genuine empathy and/or affection for someone. I don't just enjoy being any of the "someone"s in that equation. Which makes me unfit to suggest, something I am not sure to follow myself (future me, I hope you are doing better). We'll leave that to time and God.

When someone expresses themselves to you and breaks down in tears, a text book move would be to: not say a word, let them pour out their heart and then give them a warm long hug. That's a "Sigma" move right there! I'm unsure of how that plays out going forward but one thing we can all agree on is that, a hug is a deep expression of "I hear you". It's just more appropriate when you have built a good enough relationship with the person to let that be the means of communication.

And then, when is it appropriate to offer a hand in help? Our natural instinct is to help the person as soon as they start talking, maybe with advice or an offering for a solution. However, it's counterproductive. The first two steps listening and empathizing, are much more important that the solution. I believe empathy can be expressed in different ways, one of which is sharing a hug; however, actively listening without judging (depending on your relationship and personalities) serves the purpose of a hug. I think the question of "When do you help someone?" is the most important question in the whole process. People generally already know what they have to do or if you think you ought to tell them, the probably won't do what you said unless they truly understand the why. And that's the point of having a conversation with someone in distress; it's an attempt to comprehend what is bugging them.

So, a conversation with someone in anguish is a diagnostic session (with some empathy) not a treatment session. The best thing you can do for someone in pain is to help them fully understand what is causing their pain. Its a dialogue but your mode of communication is tuned to comprehension. You need to let them know that, though you are not in their shoes, you understand how painful the pinch is. It is not another opportunity for your idea monster to demonstrate it's prowess; tame it!

When the person fully understands the source of their ache, they are generally less emotional about it (in comparison to the conversation's beginning). Surprisingly, if the source of pain is a problem that needs a solution, it's comprehension is often enough for them to have a good understanding of what next to do. The panacea generally lies in their understanding of the ailment. However, only at this stage can you offer solicited advice. Unsolicited advice always falls on deaf ears. So, unless they explicitly request for your opinion, your brilliant solution best serves your intellect.

Thanks to Joyce and Ms. Supriya Sharma for reading drafts of this.