"I can't imagine losing my father to AIDS."
"I can't imagine what it would be like to have my son murdered by the police because he was Black."
"I can't imagine being transgender and not having a safe space to use the restroom."
"I can't imagine how hard it would be to be confined to a wheelchair my whole life."
"I can't imagine seeing my buddies blown to bits in combat."
"I can't imagine losing my job because of COVID-19."
You can’t imagine? Or you won’t imagine?
Someone shares something vulnerable with us. We can't handle it, so we distance ourselves by saying we can't imagine it.
We choose not to imagine. Because it's safer that way.
It's more comfortable to say something that we pretend is compassion and empathy. But actually is just the opposite.
We fill the air with our words, thinking we're connecting and showing solidarity. But we're actually showing the opposite.
We're uneasy with the emotion of it, the awkward silence, the uncertainty of how to proceed.
And, that's exactly where we need to remain. Present. Silent. Available.
You might try something like this:
"I'm not sure what to say right now, but I'm just glad you told me."
We all crave connection. We just need to be better at knowing how to connect.