I am learning not to expect others to be able to read my mind. If I need help or need to talk through problems to clear my perspective, I need to be willing to open up to others. It helps if I know they understand to some degree what I’m going through. However, it doesn’t have to be the exact same challenge or burden – as patience, faith, and endurance are learned through a variety of experiences. These attributes and experiences help us find understanding and compassion for others.

I also no longer respond with “fine” unless I really am fine! My usual response is “I’ve been better – but I’ve also been worse.” If someone is only looking for the courtesy “fine” response, we can joke about “isn’t that the truth” and move on. But others will stop and ask questions, talk and take time to find out whether I’m on the “better or worse” end of that sentiment.

I have discovered there are an awful lot of people out there who have been better and worse, but just need a chance to know someone cares enough to listen to them as they deal with the struggle to continue to endure well enough for now.

Thanks, Heather and commenters, for the opportunity to consider whether I have become a bit too nonchalant and complacent in my compassion, and in listening to and noticing the needs of others.

For various reasons we chose to pursue adoption rather than assisted reproduction. I don’t have personal experience dealing with IVF etc. which oftentimes leaves me on the outside of the “infertility group” because of misconceptions that I “can’t possibly understand the loss” or “didn’t want to be a mother badly enough to try to have one of ‘my own’”. While I am at peace with my choices, many cannot comprehend them.

Conversely, I often speak with a woman in my community that has adopted several children who have ended up with severe behavioral/emotional problems (as does one of my children). It is simply refreshing for us to reassure ourselves that although most of the world doesn’t have a clue, there is one person out there that understands and is not being judgmental of our parenting and can understand the vast love it takes to send a child away for treatment and not be judgmental about the shear relief that comes from it.

I think that many times people do not voice their trials because they don’t want to be seen as murmurers. We all hear of those who have experienced the greatest trials and have never complained, so we feel that when we speak up, we are weak. There are also many burdens and trials that are not visible. For instance, my child is an angel in public/church, but no one sees the forged checks, stolen jewelry, or the knife left blade side up in my coat sleeve.

I admit that because of the load I am currently carrying, I am not always as open as I could be. I often greet people with “pleasure to meet/see you” rather than “how are you?”. I’m still in the baby step stages of losing myself in others to find myself. Sometimes all I have to offer is a sincere prayer.

And sometimes you just need a mortal, tangible hug and actual words that you can hear with mortal ears.

I don’t disagree that ultimately we have to rely on the Savior, but even He told us to reach out to each other; it’s part of the covenants we make.

In the end it seems the best way to share is with those you already have a strong relationship with. That way you know there will be respect and love on both sides. And after you share to hold off on any expectation of help. It might sound pessimistic but if you expect nothing whatever you do get will be a bonus.

Silver Rain, I really appreciate the sentiment of always relying on our relationship with the Savior but there are days that I’m just angry at God for the whole situation. I don’t feel his love and concern, I feel abandoned. Those are the days it would be helpful to open up and have someone lovingly respond and remind me that He does care. I need someone else to hold my hand until I can reach out to him.

This was a great, read.

Thank you.

Also, as one who is overly emotional, I always run the risk of overpowering the people who want to help me. Again, I don’t think there is a real way to share that.

What I have found, though, is that suffering my own trials opens me not only to understanding others with my specific problem, but to the entire panoply of human suffering. Knowing that my particular trials would be no trial to others gives me the ability to understand the emotion of things I otherwise would not understand. In this way, it is truly a blessing.

I hope that wasn’t too unintelligible. Too few nights with sleep, I’m afraid.

I once asked my bishop to please consider an “In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can’t see” fast. He actually responded, and we did it. I plan to do it again. I said that it’s awesome that we can fast for those with visible trials, but there are many, many whose trials are private, and they need our support, prayers and love, too!

But I’m reading other comments and still wondering why we don’t share more. I know it’s normal not to. Is it because we don’t take the time to really listen to each other enough? Because we are afraid of not knowing what to say? Or because people sometimes really are insensitive? Are we afraid of being let down if we do open up (that is something I have felt). I’m working on that, though.

After nearly six years of chronic illness, I have decided I don’t want to do it alone. I don’t want to pretend I’m ok, because sometimes I am really not. And even with other stuff that goes on, sometimes I open up, because I just can’t do it alone. And while I don’t want to swing to the other extreme of being a whiner, I really feel there is value in people being REAL rather than pretending that all is well when it isn’t. I’m not talking being an empty well…just being able to say, “hey, no, I’m not ok, so hey, can I have a hug?” or “This is how ________ has helped me.”

So, for example, I actually make an effort to not just small talk with my VTs. I tell them that it’s hard having illness. It’s hard not being able to go to my ward right now because it’s too early for me. It’s hard to feel different.

I figure that they are there to help, and yet, they need me to help them help me. That doesn’t mean they always rise to the occasion, but at least the door has been opened to be able to TALK about my life, in real terms, not just about the weather and casseroles, or even about the gospel in the abstract.

I mean, if we can’t talk about out trials — let others know when we are mourning and in need of comfort — isn’t that in way just keeping the gospel in the abstract?

I realize our culture isn’t fully there yet. But I think it takes both those who are willing to really listen and those who are willing to really share for that to change. We all have to be willing to risk — both in sharing and being vulnerable, and in trying to reach out, even though we realize we will probably goof along the way as we try to learn to be more sensitive.

(Sorry. I’m in one of those modes where I just don’t want to be alone with my hard stuff, and don’t want to be alone in asking for help!!!)

Let’s face it…it sucks to be in need! Chronic trials can be the worst because you simply get so weary. Yet this life was designed for that purpose. Often our weaknesses and trials are the way Heavenly Father is helping another of His children to grow or even answering their prayers. Some of my deepest friendships have been formed through my trials and when I very reluctantly let someone in on them.