Opting Out of the Pain Olympics
Holding space for people to share their struggles without shifting the focus to our own
I remember a time when I had a person in my life who would always challenge any discomfort or struggle I was experiencing, and try to one-up me. If I said I had a headache, they would say, “Oh, I have a migraine, and I’ve had my migraine for four days now.” Or, if they didn’t have a headache, they’d be telling me about someone they knew who had such a severe headache that they had to be hospitalized. This person was always diverting me from sharing about my pain, insisting that they had or knew of a pain that was greater.
We have to be careful when people are sharing things in conversations with us, that we are connecting rather than disconnecting. When someone is going through something, there are ways we can share our own experience that can be helpful, but oftentimes, it’s not about sharing our story, so much as signaling that we understand how the person is feeling. We can do that by saying:
“I understand.”
“I remember those times.”
“I remember what that feels like.”
“That sounds so familiar.”
These responses give the person we’re speaking with the option of asking to hear more, while also keeping their experience centered in the conversation. We may feel like our experience would be valuable to them, but it might take away from the person being able to share what they want to share.
There are people in our lives that we may not confide in until a situation is resolved, or until we have made our peace with it. We do this because those people have shown they can not hold space for us and will hijack our crisis. I have called people crying and had to remind myself that I called them for support because somehow I ended up consoling them.
When we do this to people we are sending the message that we don’t have the capacity to hold space for them. We’re unraveling the closeness they may have felt was there. We are diminishing the connection that they’re looking for at that moment.
When you are in conversation with someone who is having a hard time ask yourself:
Is this person being quiet, or am I talking too much?
Am I monopolizing the conversation?
Am I doing more listening than speaking?
Am I asking thoughtful, open-ended questions?
Am I sharing in a purposeful way?
We all hijack conversations sometimes. It’s a part of being human, but it’s important that we pay attention to how often it is happening.
Journal Prompt
How do you provide assistance when individuals reach out to you during a crisis?
A Few Things That Caught My Attention This Week
When Western Medicine Failed Me, My Mom Stepped In, by Mandie Montes on Oprah Daily.
Stop Ignoring All the Mundane Miracles in Your Life, by Anna Kodé in The New York Times Magazine.
Kokomo City. You can watch this movie on Paramount +.
Reminds me of the iconic Kristen Wiig SNL character Penelope who always one ups, dominating the convo. Great piece as always ⚡️
https://youtu.be/W69nqO1X5yU?si=LTL_OaKb5QcAPUGm
As an Autistic + ADHD person (who was silenced most of my life), I'd like to add a layer of nuance:
With a disability that greatly affects communication, the way I relay understanding is by (aim: briefly) sharing similar experiences when (I think it's) appropriate—not to one-up, but to give even a morsel of detail so that my conversation partner knows I truly understand, that I can and do empathize (and sometimes as a glimmer of hope for them, depending on the subject: "I got through, and you're way smarter/stronger than I am! You've got this"-kind of encouragement). But, I did notice one, more walled-off friend, when I focus on pacing myself to offer space for them to share, they shared more.
But... this knowledge partnered with my neurology added to my hyper-vigilance over not cutting people off or "stealing their thunder" via sharing my own experience, even though my intentions with sharing is to show care. I end up spending so much time thinking, "Don't cut them off," "Don't overshare," that I can no longer hear or take in what they're saying.
The more neurodivergent people I speak with, the more I learn that this is common among us. Sharing our experiences is a way for us to connect and show empathy to others. But, there's always someone—or numerous someones—who ruin it for everyone.
Now, I'm self-conscious enough to apologize for interrupting people (more ADHD or Autistic special-interest driven) and/or explain why I shared something. And every conversation partner I've informed has said they appreciate that I try to empathize/sympathize, and they can tell the difference between someone who's essentially trying to one-up them and someone who's trying to provide an extra layer of care.
I understand that this advice isn't necessarily targeting me or people with similar neurologies. But, just as I feel a deep-seated need to empathize through sharing, I also can't help myself when it comes to adding neuro-different nuance, just in case there's someone out there who reads this and has never intended to steal attention, and only shares to feel (and be!) more connected with others, yet walks away feeling shame and guilt for trying their best.