Option B

by Sheryl Sandberg

The traditional Jewish period of mourning for a spouse lasts thirty days. I was nearing the end of the month when I thought about expressing how I felt on Facebook. I poured my emotions into a post but didn’t think I’d ever share it—it was too personal, too raw, too revealing. Finally, I decided it was unlikely to make things worse and maybe it would make them a bit better. Early the next morning before I could change my mind, I hit “post.”

acknowledge that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I pointed out that if people instead asked “How are you today?” it showed that they were aware that I was struggling to get through each day.

Some offered compassion, others shared personal stories, but the message was clear: as one man wrote, even though Option A was gone for so many of us, we were not alone.

Still, there’s powerful evidence that opening up about traumatic events can improve mental and physical health. Speaking to a friend or family member often helps people understand their own emotions and feel understood.

and that didn’t encourage people to ask further questions. He said if I wanted others to be more open with me, I needed to be more open with them. I started responding more frankly. “I’m not fine, and it’s nice to be able to be honest about that with you.” I learned that even small things could let people know that I needed help; when they hugged me hello, if I hugged them just a bit tighter, they understood that I was not okay.

Instead of making assumptions about whether or not someone wants to talk, it’s best to offer an opening and see if they take it.

It was then that Allison, who has a background in psychiatry, taught Adam that when something terrible happens, it can be important to consider how things could be worse. They remembered that a close friend had seven miscarriages before having healthy children. They thought about how losses later in pregnancy can be far more devastating. When they returned home, the pain was less raw and it was easier to talk about. Allison started sharing her experiences with her friends and found out that several of them had suffered the same loss but never said a word either.

“When you’re faced with tragedy, you usually find that you’re no longer surrounded by people—you’re surrounded by platitudes. So what do we offer instead of ‘everything happens for a reason’?” asks writer Tim Lawrence. He suggests that “the most powerful thing you can do is acknowledge. To literally say the words: I acknowledge your pain. I’m here with you.”

Sure enough, the button allowed them to stay calmer, make fewer mistakes, and show less irritation. That’s not surprising. But here’s what is: none of the participants actually pressed the button. Stopping the noise didn’t make the difference…knowing they could stop the noise did. The button gave them a

We put off calling or offering help until we feel guilty that we didn’t do it sooner…and then it feels too late.

Her friend didn’t understand that withholding comfort actually added to the pain.

Simply showing up for a friend can make a huge difference. I was lucky to be surrounded by loved ones who not only showed up but often figured out what I needed before I knew myself.

My closest friends and family convinced me that they truly wanted to help, which made me feel like less of a burden. Every time I told Michelle to go home, she insisted that she wouldn’t be able to rest unless she knew I was asleep. My brother David called me from Houston every single day for more than six months. When I thanked him, he said that he was doing it for himself because the only time he felt okay was when he was talking to me. I learned that at times, caring means that when someone is hurting, you cannot imagine being anywhere else.

But when someone is suffering, instead of following the Golden Rule, we need to follow the Platinum Rule: treat others as they want to be treated. Take a cue from the person in distress and respond with understanding—or better yet, action.

bye to Dave—or at least skip Father’s Day? Author Bruce Feiler believes the problem lies in the offer to “do anything.” He writes that “while well meaning, this gesture unintentionally shifts the obligation to the aggrieved. Instead of offering ‘anything,’ just do something.”

Specific acts help because instead of trying to fix the problem, they address the damage caused by the problem. “Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried,” therapist Megan Devine observes.

Wherever you are in the circle, offer comfort in and seek comfort out. That means consoling the people who are closer to the tragedy than you are and reaching out for support from those who are farther removed.

I was torn by similar conflicting emotions. I hated asking for help, hated needing it, worried incessantly that I was a huge burden to everyone, and yet depended on their constant support. I was suffering from so many insecurities that I almost started a People Afraid of Inconveniencing Others support group, until I realized that all the members would be afraid of imposing on one another and no one would show up.

I did not just feel like a burden…I truly was a burden. I learned that friendship isn’t only what you can give, it’s what you’re able to receive.

Only after we pass through these four stages can we find acceptance. But now experts realize that these are not five stages. They are five states that don’t progress in a linear fashion but rise and fall. Grief and anger aren’t extinguished like flames doused with water.

Lots of people nicely tried to assure me, “You will get through this,” but it was hard to believe them. What helped me more was when people said that they were in it with me. Phil Deutch did this time and again, saying, “We are going to get through this.” When he was away, he sent emails, sometimes with just one line: “You are not alone.” One of my childhood girlfriends sent a card that read, “One day she woke up and understood we are all in this together.” That card has hung above my desk ever since.

I used to think there was one set of footprints because my friends were carrying me through the worst days of my life. But now it means something else to me. When I saw one set of footprints, it was because they were following directly behind me, ready to catch me if I fell.

Catherine had spent years urging employers and donors to be open-minded, asking them to imagine how they’d feel if they were defined by their biggest mistake. Suddenly that was her own life. “I violated my spiritual values. I felt like I was covered in the thickest wall of shame,” she told us. “I lost my identity as a leader. I was dead broke financially. I didn’t want to live anymore because I felt like I had ruined God’s calling for my life.” She attempted suicide. Catherine had dedicated herself to helping people get a second chance. She had fostered compassion for ex-offenders. Now she needed to find compassion for someone else—herself.

Psychologist Kristin Neff describes self-compassion as offering the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to a friend. It allows us to respond to our own errors with concern and understanding rather than criticism and shame.

Self-compassion comes from recognizing that our imperfections are part of being human.

In a study of people whose marriages fell apart, resilience was not related to their self-esteem, optimism, or depression before divorce, or to how long their relationships or separations had lasted. What helped people cope with distress and move on was self-compassion.

Instead of thinking “if only I weren’t,” we can think “if only I hadn’t.” This is why confession in the Catholic religion begins with “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” not “Forgive me, Father, for I am a sinner.” Blaming our actions rather than our character allows us to feel guilt instead of shame. Humorist Erma Bombeck joked that guilt was “the gift that keeps giving.”

People become motivated to repair the wrongs of their past and make better choices in the future. Shame has the opposite effect: it makes people feel small and worthless, leading them to attack in anger or shrink away in self-pity.

prone kids were more likely to defuse conflicts. Bryan Stevenson, a legal activist who leads the Equal Justice Initiative, makes the point that “we are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone.” He deeply believes that “each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

They drafted a letter to themselves expressing the understanding they would offer to a friend in the same situation. Compared to a control group who wrote just about their positive attributes, those who were kind to themselves were 40 percent happier and 24 percent less angry.

But when Pennebaker followed up six months later, the effects reversed and those who wrote about their traumas were significantly better off emotionally and physically.

better liver function, and stronger antibody responses. Even journaling for a few minutes a few times can make a difference. “You don’t have to write for the rest of your life,” Pennebaker told us. “You can start and stop when you feel you need to.” Labeling negative emotions makes them easier to deal with. The more specific the label, the better. “I’m feeling lonely” helps us process more than the vague “I’m feeling awful.” By putting feelings into words, we give ourselves more power over them.

When a loved one dies, we expect to be sad. We expect to be angry. What we don’t see coming—or at least I didn’t—is that trauma can also lead to self-doubt in all aspects of our lives. This loss of confidence is another symptom of pervasiveness: we are struggling in one area and suddenly we stop believing in our capabilities in other areas. Primary loss triggers secondary losses. For me, my confidence crumbled overnight. It reminded me of watching a house in my neighborhood that had taken years to build get torn down in a matter of minutes. Boom. Flattened.

Journaling became a key part of my recovery. I began on the morning of Dave’s funeral, four days after he died.

Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said that life can only be understood backward but it must be lived forward. Journaling helped me make sense of the past and rebuild my self-confidence to navigate the present and future. Then Adam suggested that I should also write down three things that I’d done well each day.

Contributions are active: they build our confidence by reminding us that we can make a difference. I now encourage my friends and colleagues to write about what they have done well. The people who try it all come back with the same response: they wish they’d started doing this sooner.

What would you do if you weren’t afraid? I’d take one turn. Then another.

What helped was hearing, “Really? I thought you made a good point in that meeting and helped us make a better decision.” Bless you. Empathy was nice but encouragement was better.

Jenessa’s story and my experience have changed the way I interact with coworkers going through difficult personal situations. I still always start by offering them time off. But now I understand the importance of treating them as regular members of the team and praising their work as well.

Since the early 1970s, the number of single mothers in the United States has nearly doubled. Today almost 30 percent of families with children are headed by a single parent—84 percent of whom are women.

After the campaign began distributing food at a local charter school, student disciplinary problems decreased. “People thought we had bad kids,” the principal told us, “but we had hungry kids.” Another school reported that the program reduced student absenteeism and health complaints and increased academic performance. Working moms, especially those who are single,

I just had to help them with what they were facing right then. I did not have to take even ten turns. I just had to help them take one turn at a time.

David and Michelle gave me a few minutes alone and then came over and sat down next to me, one on each side. Something so comforting about this—I realized that my siblings were in my life long before Dave was. We talked about how if we were lucky, the three of us would live long enough to bury our parents—and we would do it there—together. And so life continues with them. Not with Dave but with them. I can grow old with David and Michelle by my side as they always have been.

ever again. I don’t get to hold him or kiss him ever again. I have learned how to make sure I talk about him constantly so our children remember him but I will never again have another conversation with him about them.

So each day has to count. I don’t know how many I have left and I want to start living again.

We all need other people—and I do more than ever. But at the end of the day the only person who can move my life ahead, make me happy, and build a new life for my kids is me.

helpless frustration and despair.” A traumatic experience is a seismic event that shakes our belief in a just world, robbing us of the sense that life is controllable, predictable, and meaningful.

“When we are no longer able to change a situation,” psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl observed, “we are challenged to change ourselves.”

Now there was a third possibility: people who suffered could bounce forward.

That women don’t reach for leadership roles because they don’t see enough women in leadership roles. This is the same thing. If you don’t see that growth is possible, you’re not going to find it.” I agreed I would try to see it. And I had to admit that post-traumatic growth sounded a lot better than a life filled with sadness and anger.