Mom trains others in how to comfort
A few weeks ago I wrote about Deb, a friend whose family experienced a deep crisis when her oldest daughter’s depression and anxiety led her to harm herself. After months of staying silent, Deb and her family started telling friends. They discovered that nine other families in their community were going through similar trauma.
Deb also discovered, after an awkward exchange at the grocery store, that we are a society ill-equipped to comfort each other. We avoid, we deflect, we inject toxic positivity, we rush to fix. We leave the person who’s hurting feeling even more alone in their pain.
Through a LinkedIn connection, Deb discovered Jen Marr, the founder of an organization called Inspiring Comfort. Marr’s company offers empathy training to workplaces, schools, individuals — anyone, really, who could use it. Which is to say, just about everyone.
After my column published, I heard from so many readers who wanted to learn more about Inspiring Comfort. People who are hurting and want to guide their friends and family toward a better way of showing up. People who love someone who’s hurting and aren’t sure how to show up. People who look around and see trauma all around them and know, in their bones, we’ve got to get better at caring for one another.
I called Marr to learn more about her work, which she began after a series of traumatic events in her own life. After the
horrific shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School in 2012, Marr made weekly visits to the school as a volunteer with Lutheran Church Charities K-9 Comfort Dog Ministry. She brought comfort dogs to work with the students and staff. She also deployed to other nearby tragedies: car accidents, suicides.
“I always felt like I was standing in this gap,” she said, “where people are struggling on one side, and on that other side are people who care.”
She witnessed warehouses full of teddy bears that strangers shipped to Sandy Hook — no particular recipient in mind, just a desire to do something.
“Our problem is not a lack of empathy,” Marr told me. “It’s, how do we apply
it?”
In 2013, Marr ran the Boston Marathon. She dedicated mile 26 to the teachers and students at Sandy Hook. At mile 25, chaos broke out. Bombs were detonating near the finish line. Marr spent the next two hours wandering around Boston in search of her family, who came to cheer her on, witnessing shock and fear and grief in real time.
“Since that day in Boston, this work has been my life 24/7,” she said. “It never leaves me and it will never leave me. And it all boils down to people needing to feel valued, seen, heard, cared for. We can fix that. We can.”
Organizations can hire Inspiring Comfort to walk them through a four-step
process to create a culture of care.
“People are dealing with loneliness and isolation and great disconnection,” Marr said. “They feel lonely on college campuses. They feel lonely in a workplace with thousands of people. They feel lonely in their families.”
The training helps people assess their own habits: Do they avoid someone who’s hurting, unsure of what to say, figuring it’s not their place to step in, afraid they’ll say something that makes it worse? Do they approach the person, but fill the conversation with recommendations or personal anecdotes or other things that steer the conversation away from the person and their pain?
“None of this is good
or bad or right or wrong,” Marr said. “If we can name what’s stopping us from showing up and have strategies against that, we can get somewhere. It’s the best feeling when someone will say, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m such a fixer and I’m catching myself and it’s making such a big difference.”
Marr recently published a book with co-author Skye Quinn called, “Showing Up: A Comprehensive Guide to Comfort and Connection.” It spells out much of what the four-step programs offer. I found it brilliant.
It offers phrases that uncomfort (“I know whatever happens, you’ll do fine. I have faith in you!” “You can start a whole new life now!” “You’re going to get through this. You’re so strong!”), and phrases that comfort. (“You are not alone. I’m here for you and I won’t leave you.” “Share memories — any memories.” “Let me stop talking and hear your perspective.” “I’m so, so sorry.”)
It offers tips for texting, which the book maintains is one of the best ways to keep in touch with someone struggling. “Many little text check-ins can lay a wonderful, trusting relationship with someone who needs a friend.”
It also offers texting pitfalls: “It’s best not to comfort in a group text chain.” “It’s important to make sure the person you are comforting wants to receive texts of comfort from you. Always ask if it’s OK to keep checking in.”
It offers concrete ways to show up: Help keep traditions (holidays, birthdays) alive. Take on the yard work. Wash a car and fill it with gas. Help write thankyou notes. Bring in and sort the mail. Take the pet to get groomed. Bring over fresh produce on Sundays.
It reminds us that the need for comfort never ends. It’s never too late to send a card or text. The book encourages readers to remove “moving on” and “getting back to normal” from our thought process and replace them with “it’s always with you.”
Marr’s work brings her face-to-face with tremendous sorrow, and the stark reminder of its ubiquity. But also the human desire and capacity to comfort.
“Nothing brings us together more than when we show up for each other,” Marr said. “Nothing.”
What a hopeful lens. I think I’ll use it.