When Crisis Hits Your Family

A 3-step plan to help you cope

Sep 24, 2024

ICYMI 👉

This weekend I spoke with a friend who was frantically trying to move her father into hospice care. A few hours later I spoke with another friend whose daughter suddenly withdrew from college due to a series of medical problems. Meanwhile I, myself, am in the midst of coping with the sudden death of my beloved younger brother, Harry, this summer.

silhouette photography of tree — Photo by zenad nabil on Unsplash

This is not meant to be a depressing post. It’s also not a call for sympathy. I am writing about these moments of crisis because they can bind us together if we let them. There are lessons to be learned from our coping and caring for one another during times of distress that can help soften the blow—or at least enable us to help each other get by.

This is why I am here.

Of course there is also no one-size-fits-all template for how to cope with grief, loss, or periods of unimaginable stress. If a playbook existed, it wouldn’t be a crisis. Indeed the cruelest part of any crisis is having to make difficult decisions with incomplete information while you are in a compromised emotional state. However, there are things I have heard over and over again, year after year, from families and patients navigating hard times that have helped them get through. I am making use of them myself right now.

Here is a 3-step plan to help you cope when crisis hits your family:

Step 1: Dust off the serenity prayer

Whether you’re an atheist, a devout Catholic, a Buddhist, or an Orthodox Jew, the serenity prayer has your name written all over it.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

It is a simple reminder to focus on what can be changed and to practice self-compassion for things beyond our control. Psychologists have long understood that our perception of whether we control our fate or current life situation—versus being at the mercy of outside events—affects our health. Shifting from an externalized locus of control to an internal locus of control—that is, taking charge of our own lives again—can restore our sense of agency and self-determination.

So, take a pause to consider the realities of this moment. Recognize the areas where you have little-to-no control (e.g., “fixing” a complex medical problem, convincing someone who doesn't want help to get help, “deciding” when to grieve)—and work on accepting the discomfort of the unknowable. Next, try to recognize what agency you do have (e.g., the ability to drive someone to therapy, to create a sleep or exercise routine for yourself, or to listen without judgment)—and lean into that. Acceptance is a lifelong process, so be kind to yourself if it takes you more than a minute.

Step 2: Ask yourself what you need most

Self-awareness is the opposite of self-indulgence; it will only fortify you and those around you during hard times. So, during a crisis, do you crave companionship, solitude, or a mixture of both? Do you prefer to openly share your challenges or are you more private? Do you need to exercise or to spend more time in bed? Do you need professional help or do you need to practice what you already know? Understanding your specific needs is the first step toward meeting them. For me at least, writing is therapeutic. It’s also an escape—a place to focus my attention when my thoughts run wild. The concentration and clarity required to write are their own sort of mindfulness. In writing this newsletter today, I feel calmer and more centered—and hopefully am helping anyone else who may need support.

Regardless of what your particular needs are during a crisis, I suggest to anyone (including myself) that they try to meet their most basic needs, always. The four non-negotiables for health (aka “STEM”) are:

S = Sleep. Our brains and bodies can’t function without rest. Most humans need 7-9 hours. Prioritize it.
T = Talk. To loved ones, friends, your dog, or a therapist. Externalize your thoughts and feelings. Tell your story.
E = Eat. We need protein, fiber, healthy fats, and whole grains. Satiety at regular intervals is critical for our bodies and brains. Experience it.
M = Move. Walk, stretch, poke your head outside. Feel like you can’t move in that way? Migrate toward in the sun, sip your coffee outdoors, or take a bath or a long shower. Connect with your body in any way, shape, or form. Just do it.

Step 3: Make your needs known to others

It’s not selfish to ask for what you need. People want to help you. The hard part is that not everyone knows how. That’s okay! It’s normal. Through no fault of their own, even the most well-intended people in your life will miss the mark. Some might even hurt you. Remember that bearing witness to other people’s distress is distressing itself. When we’re distressed, it’s easy to make assumptions about what someone in crisis might need. Which is why you will get messages from friends and loved ones dispensing advice, relaying stories about people in similar situations, or issuing blanket reassurances—all in good faith. Of course no one has the perfect thing to say, and we all deserve grace as caregivers and well-wishers and as recipients of care. However, I suggest that instead of passively ingesting people’s generosity and kindness in ways that may not be helpful, be explicit about your needs. Your friends and family will be glad for some direction.

For example, the day after my brother died this summer, I wrote a letter to my panel of patients telling them what happened and what I needed. Specifically, I needed to be able to go back to work a few weeks later without the effort of keeping my grief in a box. Grief was now part of me. It’s not that I wanted to talk about my brother or my experience of loss with my patients. Not at all. I simply wanted them to know—in order to feel like my authentic self in their presence. I also wanted to tell them how I was coping, primarily to hold myself accountable to practicing what I preach (e.g., rest, self-compassion, social connection, asking for help, etc)—and secondly to reassure them that I’m capable of making my needs known which, at the moment, includes being at work but also might mean days off here and there. Knowing that my patients know what happened, without feeling obligated to explain myself or reassure my patients about how I’m doing, has allowed to focus on them which, in addition to caring for myself and my family, is a big part of my healing.

On the phone with my friend whose father just transferred into hospice, she asked me for a dose of levity. “I just have to laugh sometimes,” she told me, describing the absurd level of stress she’s been under. So we talked about writing a sitcom about death and its ridiculous trappings. On a walk the next day, my other friend whose daughter is struggling asked me simply to listen. She told me she wasn’t looking for a medical opinion, but rather an open ear. In both instances it feel good to know what they needed—and to provide it.

I hope this is helpful. Writing it has helped me immensely! ❤️

So, tell me: What do you need most with the proverbial $hit hits the fan?? Are you good at asking for it? I’m all ears!

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