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When life throws more at you than you think you can handle, the people who stand beside you make all the difference. And, as our editor-in-chief Katie Dupuis learned this week, sometimes all it takes is one little word to remind you that they’re right there with you: “We.”
I’m having a really terrible month (and it’s only November 13). Frankly, if I’m honest, it’s been a pretty terrible year. It started with losing one of my best friends in February, and setback after mishap after issue has kept coming ever since. I’m generally a pretty positive person, and definitely a top-tier problem-solver, but I’m not going to lie: It has been hard. And the last two weeks have been among the most stressful of my life.
I don’t want to get into details that aren’t mine to share — my girls are teenagers now and they get a say in what I reveal about their private lives — but one of my daughters has developed some pretty concerning symptoms that we’re in the process of trying to figure out. Here’s the thing: I would say I can handle almost anything, but like most parents, my kids are my kryptonite. When something goes wrong, the uncertainty does a number on me. I jump into hyper-vigilance and fix-it mode to keep my brain occupied and my emotions in check, but honestly, this time I’m spinning.
And the difficult thing about spinning as a single parent is that there isn’t anyone there to step in and slow or stop the spinning. There’s no one to bounce things off of, or to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. It’s just you and only you. I’ve mastered most of the juggle of single parenting (it has been years now), but this is when I feel the most alone.
Except that I’m not alone. Because this week, I noticed something extraordinary.
The Power of "We"
They say it takes a village. That’s not new. Everyone needs support systems where kids are concerned. But what my village did for me this week was something I won't soon forget. And they didn’t even know they were doing it.
As things started to happen with my girl, I began to tell our people — the ones who are closest to us. Some are family, but others are chosen family. And their response, without ever speaking to each other, was the same. It made me tear up every time someone said or texted it.
“We will get through this.”
“We’ve got this.”
“We’re here. What do we need to do?”
The operative word is “we.” Those two little letters did more for my fear and anxiety than I ever thought possible. Every time I read or heard that little collective pronoun, my nervous system-in-overdrive was knocked down a peg. We are not alone. I am not alone.
I’ve been thinking about it over the past few days, wondering why something so simple could do so much. And here it is: Imagine standing in front of a monster, with gnashing teeth and razor-sharp talons ready to tear you limb from limb. You could have all the weapons in the world, but you’re still just little ol’ you, and the monster is still a terrifying, dangerous opponent.
Now imagine there are dozens of people behind you. It’s still your monster, but now you have an army. And they’re willing to do whatever it takes to help you slay it. They use their own tools, they set up diversions to distract the monster while you get your bearings, they pick up the fight when you’re tired and need a breather. They don’t run when things get hard.
Monsters don’t stand a chance against “we.”
And as soon as I realized that, it became easier to start moving, asking questions, making plans. Action is the antidote to anxiety, and I needed all of those “we’re going to figure it out” messages to remember that.
More Than a Village
The “we” is so much more than a village. It’s not just someone to pick up your kid when your meeting runs long, or the parent who will drive the carpool when you have a conflict. Yes, those are important things, and there is tremendous value in having those people on your side. But when your village is actually an army, and they're willing to stand in front of the beast and fight alongside you, you are the luckiest.
I am the luckiest.
Even in the shittiest weeks of the shittiest years. Because the “we” of my life, and my kids’ lives, the ones who are willing to get down in the trenches with us, make all the difference.
How to Be the "We" Your Friends Need
I've been on the other side of this, too. I've had friends go through terrible things, and I've wondered what to say or do to make any of it better. Sometimes there are no right words, and sometimes there's nothing you can do to fix what's happening. But this week has reminded me that you don't have to fix something to make it easier for someone to carry.
Here's what I've learned about being the "we" someone needs:
Use the word "we." Say "We'll figure this out" or "We'll get through this." You don't need to have the answers. You're telling someone they don't have to find them all on their own.
Offer something specific. "Let me know if you need anything" is lovely, but it puts the onus on someone who's already overwhelmed to figure out what to ask for. "I'm bringing dinner on Thursday" or "I’ll pick the kids up at noon for a playdate" takes one more decision off their plate.
Let them fall apart. You don't have to make someone feel better every time they cry or panic or say something irrational. Sometimes they just need a place to put all those feelings without worrying about how they're affecting someone else.
Check in again. And again. The first wave of support is wonderful, but the hard stuff doesn't always resolve in a few days. A text a week later, or a month later, can mean just as much as—if not more than—the early outreach.
Don't make them manage your feelings. It's okay to be worried or upset on someone's behalf, but try not to make them responsible for reassuring you. They've got enough on their plate. (Look up "the circle of grief" if you want to read more about this.)
Stay in the fight. You don't have to be there every minute, and you certainly don't have to have all the answers. Just keep showing up, especially when the initial phase of the crisis has passed and everyone else has gone back to their lives.
This week has reminded me of just how much it matters to have people in your corner who reach out, who say the right thing without even realizing it and who make the hardest days feel a little less crushing.
And when it's someone else's turn to face the monster, I hope I can be part of their "we," too.
