We can all do hard things. And one of the hardest things to do is to talk about hard things. Things that are awkward or uncomfortable. Things that make us feel vulnerable, even stupid. We need to talk about hard things.
Why Talk About Hard Things?
It would be super easy to jump straight to the how. I promise 4 ways, you read the 4 ways, and we all go on with life. But for a bonus today, I’m starting with the why. Why should we talk about hard things?
Connection. We all know about the loneliness epidemic. Everybody’s lonely. And we focus on going out, joining a group, writing a text or email, or making the phone call—like those are magic pills to stop loneliness. So why is it, when we do all or most of those things, the loneliness doesn’t magically disappear? Because we still aren’t talking about anything that matters. When we talk about hard things, we make ourselves vulnerable. And that is the moment, always, when connection is made. As C. S. Lewis said, “Friendship … is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” (The Four Loves). Talking about hard things makes connections.
Assistance. We need help with hard things. We cannot do them alone. But that means admitting we have questions, need advice, or want support. Other people cannot read our minds (and let’s be honest, we don’t want them to). So we have to ask. We have to talk about hard things before we can get help with them.
Living Real. We tend to hide our real lives behind a curated version of it. It’s true on social media, sure. But frankly, it’s true in our real lives as well. If you want to live life real, you have to be open with other people. You have to admit your mess. We spend our time editing and filtering and hiding the person we really are, but when we talk about hard things, we practice stepping out from behind the mask and being ourselves. Coming open and messy. Imperfect, but present. That’s how to live real.
How Not to Talk About Hard Things
I’ll be honest. I don’t have a 4-step system for talking about hard things. But we really don’t need another system. We just have to do what we know needs done.
Because, in our world, most of the conversations about hard things aren’t very productive. They cause more heartache than they heal. And that’s not okay.
When someone posts about a hard thing online, we criticize. When they admit a failure or that they don’t understand, we sling unkind words like shards of broken glass. We call them stupid. Some people find their phone number and leave nasty messages. We assume the worst possible interpretation of their question, post, or comment, and then we destroy them.
That’s why we don’t talk about hard things very often. We’re afraid to be seen as ignorant or uncertain. To say the wrong thing. We’re afraid to ask questions. So we either hide in our shallow world of memes and gifs. Or we posture. We puff out our chests and act like we know it all, have all the answers, and never ever need to talk about hard things.
But we can do better. We must do better. Here’s how:
Talk About Hard Things … Bravely.
Whether it’s a moment of insanity or a considered choice, talking about hard things is very brave.
One Saturday morning, I got a Facebook message from a friend asking if I was the one who had talked about hemorrhoids. What I did to deal with them? I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised to be asked, but as I’m not shy about such things, I gave her a quick run down on my three best treatments.*
When she replied, though, she was clearly regretting that she’d sent the note. It had made sense super late at night, but it was a personal topic, and that morning, she was embarrassed. Anyway, she thanked me, I told her I was glad to help, and we’ve never spoken about hemorrhoids again.
But she got the information she needed because she was brave enough to ask the question. You deal with the same thing, right? Can you help a girl out? No matter the motivation (and late-night exhaustion is often the source for great bravery!), she asked a very hard question. And she got answers.
Talk About Hard Things … Honestly.
Recently, two friends and I discussed anxiety. Two of us have it. One does not. But she has a loved one who’s struggling with it. And she wants to help, but she needed more information. So we shared. What it feels like to us. What her person is likely thinking. How it builds on itself. How she can help in real and practical ways.
When I asked if any of what we’d shared was helpful, she said, “Yes. I just didn’t know anything. My other friend who has anxiety just said, ‘It feels like you’re going to die.’ Which you also said. But now I have more to go on that just that.”
I wish I didn’t have anxiety. So does my friend. But we are both willing to share if talking about a hard thing like anxiety will help someone else.
Talk About Hard Things … Repeatedly
You know this truth: The harder something is for us, the easier it is to avoid doing it. But the more we do it, the easier it becomes.
The first time you drive your car after an accident is terrifying. But you keep doing it, and the fear slowly recedes. When we talk about hard things repeatedly, we get better at it.
Now, we shouldn’t talk about only hard things. It’s easy to try to insert our soapboxes or problems into every conversation. That’s not helpful, that’s hijacking. Don’t do that.
But when an opportunity presents itself to share, do it. Do it again. And again. Even if you tear up while talking. Whether or not you have the “right” words to express it all. Talk about the hard things, share what’s on your heart. It will get easier to start, and good things almost always happen when you do.
Talk About Hard Things … Hopefully
We have a big God. He loves us. Nothing is outside of his control. That doesn’t mean only good things will happen to us. Lots of hard things will happen. Hard things are a part of life.
But when you talk about hard things, keep them in context. Don’t let despair suck you dry. Be honest, but also be truthful. God is not afraid of our sadness. He isn’t concerned when we tell him we wish it could all be easier.
So tell him that, but even as you’re being honest with him (and with others), anchor yourself with truth. This is hard, but he is good. Today makes my heart hurt, but Jesus died on a cross for me—he knows pain beyond what I can even fathom. I want things to be different, but I will trust your plan.
Tying our hard things to hope allows us to share hard things without adding to anyone’s burden. I can talk about my anxiety in a way that will help my friend and, fingers crossed, her loved one. I can support a grieving friend instead of making their pain about me. And I can hold someone else’s bad news without increasing their pain. But only if I talk about hard things hopefully.
Let’s Talk About Hard Things
We can do hard things. We have to face hard things. And we need to help others hold and handle and keep going through their hard things.
And that means having hard conversations. Our culture does not do this well. We will sometimes slip into old habits of hiding or hijacking instead of helping.
But the more we talk about hard things, the more these things get pulled into the open. The more help we can share. The more Jesus can join us in our darkest places. And the more good can be done.
So let’s start talking about hard things.
*And also, if you wondered about my three best remedies for hemorrhoids, here you go:
- Drink lots of water, especially when you notice signs of hemorrhoid flareup.
- Flushable wet wipes. Keeping that area very clean cuts down on the likelihood of irritating the hemorrhoids. Sometimes the wet wipe does a better job than plain toilet paper.
- Rawleigh’s ointment. It’s medicated with menthol. It’s way old-fashioned, and it’s the best topical relief I’ve found for hemorrhoids (and every other skin irritation).
