GRIEF + EMPATHY @ WORK // Part 1

~ an open, epistolary dialog with Michael Ventura—and You

Almost everyone who experiences the death of a loved will eventually mention the problem of grieving, or not grieving, at work. In this limited series, my friend Michael Ventura and I will exchange thoughts and ideas about how we—as a community, as a culture, as leaders, as grievers—can create better workplace conditions for grief, and maybe even for all difficult times and challenging emotions. Michael writes

UNDERSTANDING UNDERSTANDING

and is a highly connected advisor, facilitator, speaker, and author whose work is about bringing more empathy, vulnerability, and human compassion to organizational design and leadership.

Dear Michael,

I’m worried about workers. And, yeah, that’s pretty much all of us—thank you, Capitalism. And also: I’m worried about grievers. Yeah, that’s all of us, too—thank you (at minimum) every other “ism.” I’m worried about workers who are grievers and grievers who are working. I guess I’m worried about everyone. Are you?

One thing that was alarming clear to me following the deaths of a close aunt and uncle and then, too soon after that, my dad, was that I had no cultural framework for thinking about grief and mourning. Furthermore, culture had no framework for thinking about me and nowhere was this more painfully obvious than at work. It’s not just me; when I talk with clients and friends who are grieving, work and the workplace inevitably creep into the conversation—though sometimes the creep is more of a burst.

I suppose there are those who are grateful for the contrast that tasks and labor provide, but I’ve yet to hear from them. For the people I know, working while grieving is a kind of salt in the wound. Working while not grieving is the same, just different. Grievers are damned if they do—talk about, share, or even feel their grief. And they’re damned if they don’t—if they hide it, that is. Add to that: So many of us are “at work” (aka “at home”) all the time, so hiding it, stifling it, and pretending it’s not there during “working hours” is essentially a full-time betrayal of this big, tangled feeling that we both want and need to feel—and hate to feel.

Michael, I feel like this is your wheelhouse. You and I met inside a writing group organized by a mutual friend, but if I were to introduce you at a party, I’d probably just say, “Michael is making the workplace a more human place.” There’s so much more to you, yes, but your book Applied Empathy is tagged as a “radical new business book and way forward.”

Central (at least in my understanding of it) to the way forward that you propose is the idea that in order to know how to understand and help others, we have to know how they want to be understood and helped. In other words: In order to know how they’d like to be understood and helped … we have to ask them to tell us.

I get how this idea of wanting to understand others’ challenges and needs can come up with things like interpersonal team dynamics, client relations, and workload frustrations, and I know that, in general, mental health has become a much more common workplace topic in the years since your book came out. But I’m curious what comes up for you when you think specifically about the world of work + business + the big, deep, sorrows and other complicated emotions that people feel in the wake of loss.

Because here’s the thing: Americans are, in general, so very historically and systemically in denial about and closed off to death. In the book Bittersweet (recommended!), Susan Cain talks about a study that looked at sympathy cards in Germany and in the United States. The German cards were somber and typically black and white, and mostly acknowledged death’s heavy burden—while the American cards were colorful and cheerful, and mostly mention … you know, love and light. I want to say that America has lost its ability to sit with the wrenchingly existential mysteries and daily upheaval of death, but by virtue of its boot-strap bullshit and colonial foundation—which necessarily denies humanity, community, and the full spectrum of our animal emotions—I don’t think it ever intended to sit with pain and loss begin with.

In Applied Empathy you talk about how understanding can be operationalized. How leaders—and here we have to conjure a cross-section; say, a VP in a tech firm, a shift manager at a bar, a foreman at a job site, and a freelancer, because people who work for themselves have to be their own boss—can wrap empathy and human connection into and around their already established systems. But when we’re thinking about the denial of death and our cultural discomfort in the face of grief, it seems like such a tall order. I mean, I’ve seen teams fall part just attempting to restructure their reporting process.

I want us to formalize a business case for humane leadership, one that takes grief and bereavement into consideration, but the cynic in me wonders if there is too much downstream work to be addressed.

A few weeks ago, this slider from the Harvard Business Review on Mental Health Challenges at work popped up in my IG feed and I paused on the final idea, that in order to know how to help an employee, leaders have to ask, “Do you need me to witness you, distract you, or help you right now?” That feels inline with your thoughts on applied empathy, and it feels like a colossally fuck-up-able question. In the wrong hands—even if those ‘hands’ are centered in the right heart—yikes: it could be triggering and re-traumatizing; it essentially placing the onus on the already burdened.

But, I get it, too; onus and agency are like so many split hairs. In the right scenario, HBR’s question could give workers the opportunity to ask for or name precisely what they need. But are our managers, shift bosses, VPs, shop owners, and inner supervisors ready to hear it?

I really am worried about everyone, Michael.
Including grievers, including leaders.

I’d love to be able to precisely define what exactly I think I’m asking you, but I don’t think I’m there yet, which is why this open forum of sorts could be cool. I do know that grief is sacred and vital. It teaches us who and what we are by reminding us that our relationships and our connections are the most important thing we have. And I do know that beyond your work with purpose and meaning, you are also a wonderer. It’s right there in your nav bar, after all. In a lot of ways, and definitely in your Substack writings, you’re less about providing an answer, and more about opening a doorway through which we can all find out for ourselves. I see that in you in part because a door-opener is what I strive to be, too.

So really, I don’t mean to request a blog post-sized answer for such a huge complexity. But I wonder if we can wonder—together, on our own, and with our readers and communities¹, about what can we reasonably expect from our workplaces and what can they reasonably expect from us—in terms of grief, yes, and in terms of relationships and human connection.

Yrs,
LSC

Images are a mix from my camera rolls and Unsplash; all collages and pairings are mine.

GRIEVER’S BALL is a weekly-ish delivery of interviews, cultural connections, and creative invitations for people who are experiencing grief — and/or for anyone who wants to connect meaningfully and intimately with the inevitable fact of death.

1. In case it’s not obvious: This is me asking You, not just Michael, to be a part of this conversation. Share your experiences, desires, proposed business plans and leadership training protocols in the comments, please.