Why hard days don't always need to be fixed

We try not to sit with our pain for too long. We want to fix what hurts.

I made a mistake at work last week. I owned it, listened, apologized and learned. I know I'll do better next time. Accountability is important, but when it first happened, all I could muster in the kitchen when retelling it to my husband was, "I messed up and it's hard." He searched for ways to help, and I followed up again with, "I don't want you to try to fix it right now; I just need you to listen."

He did and offered a hug.

Later at my son's bedtime, he told me through tears that a kid in his class took his favorite green eraser and wouldn't give it back. "It was Mean Eileen," he said. I reached for my phone to fire off a note to his first-grade teacher about that "mean Eileen." Then, I stopped. I was ready to pull myself out of the conversation with my son to try and fix it for him. His teacher wasn't likely monitoring her ClassDojo page at all hours.

I put my phone down. I wrapped an arm around my son, and I listened. They had a substitute teacher that day. Turns out, it was a hard day all around.

These aren't the teenage school days when a substitute teacher means it's an easy hour. This is a first-grade substitute, which means (for my son at least) that the schedule was different, and the teacher didn't know him or his classmates. Many classmates were out of sorts, ornery and being reprimanded by a person who didn't understand that this was just an off day, which made things even harder.

Sometimes the best help we can offer is to simply listen and be present for someone when things feel hard. Validation works wonders on the soul as does extending grace and understanding. My boss told me, "For the most part, people just want to be heard." I'm learning she's right. Conversations are opportunities for so much growth. Without listening, there is no communication; there's just noise.

Sometimes we just need a safe place to show up as our whole selves. One with soft places to land when we fall, when we fail. Perhaps the biggest gesture of love for our partners, friends and children is just creating and holding that space. Listen so they can receive our love and wholehearted acceptance.

We need those people who allow us to make mistakes and grow into our best selves. Those who see the good in us and recognize our potential. Those who help us identify our missteps without judgment.

Not only did my boss help me through a recent error but some of my colleagues checked in on me, recognizing I was in a hard moment.

This is what helps us all grow. Shame and blame get us nowhere, though there's plenty of that to be found. Accountability with grace and room to grow is where people rise and have the chance to reach their fullest potential. We are better when we have a support system that recognizes our mistakes as simple steppingstones to becoming better humans.