Be on the lookout for people who are not included and reach out.
There was a girl in my 8th grade class who was pregnant. Nobody talked to her, including me. Looking back, I regret that deeply. How scared and alone she must have been. She could have used a friend. I wish I would have asked her to sit by me at lunch or talked to her about homework or something.
Try to avoid the temptation to reach a conclusion too quickly or cling to it too tightly.” (Paraphrasing James Comey from his book ’A Higher Loyalty,’ which I recommend as a fantastic lesson in leadership - and history, and public service.)
It’s hard to know how to support a friend who is grieving, but it’s a priceless skill / attribute. Some people just are naturally know what to say, but for the rest of us, it can be learned. If you don’t know what to say, just stay silent but be present. Or try something like “I’m so sorry.” Be mindful not to turn away because their pain makes you uncomfortable. Send a text just “thinking of you.” Grief takes a lot of energy and focus, and there’s not much you can (or should) do to help someone process their pain. So lessen their burden by taking some of the stupid everyday life stuff off their plate: Walk the dog, make a meal, make sure there’s food, clean clothes, toilet paper, etc. Help with school or work stuff if possible. Check in often but take your queue from them. Some people want company while others want solitude. Everyone processes pain and grief differently. Don’t force your way on them. Offer to look at pictures or hear stories about the person they lost. This time is about them, so avoid any comparisons with how what they’re going through is similar to something you or someone else went through, unless it was the exact same thing: Telling someone who lost a child that you understand their pain because your grandmother died last year is not okay. People mean well but they say really stupid sh*t sometimes. (If you ever say something that may have caused pain, just acknowledge it, apologize for it, and move on from it.)There are lots of resources. Grief is so isolating. You can’t make their pain go away, but that’s okay. You’re job isn’t to ‘cheer them up’ it’s to ‘keep showing up.’ Read up on current literature, there are tons of great resources.
Have a yearly “review” right before school year. Raise allowance as appropriate. If they want more money, they’ll have to take on more responsibilities.
Anything you deny or fight will fight you back harder. Don’t fight the fear, pain, disappointment, etc. Let it in and let it teach you what it wants to teach you. Then you can part as friends.
Healing takes time. You can't rush it. Whether it's your body, your mind or your heart that's hurting... you just have to let it heal in its own time. What you CAN do is to take good care of yourself: eat, rest, stay close to loved ones. Do things that bring you joy. Revel in the smallest steps forward. You'll heal, things will get better. Trust. Love. Serve. Live.
Third or fourth grade is usually a time of friendship drama. Hurt feelings abound. Treat yourself and them gently. Hold space for sadness and frustration. The last thing we ever want to do is to change who we are (what we like) in order to fit in. Good friends encourage you to let your light shine, they don’t mock your light, or imply you should dim it. I don’t care who’s popular, good looking etc, beware of anyone who thinks mean is cool. Gravitate towards kind, weird, talented, interesting, funny, etc. Good vibes are always better than “cool.”
Blessing for the Brokenhearted: Poem by Jan Richardson
___________
"There is no remedy for love but to love more."
– Henry David Thoreau
________________________
________________________
Let us agree
for now
that we will not say
the breaking
makes us stronger
or that it is better
to have this pain
than to have done
without this love.
__________Let us promise
we will not
tell ourselves
time will heal
the wound,
when every day
our waking
opens it anew.
___________Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this—
as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it,
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still,
as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us
nonetheless.