Opinions, Comments, and Processing Others’ Ideas about Your Move

I ran across an acquaintance of mine at the community center one day, about a month before my move. She smiled and waved, excited to see me. I hadn’t talked to her for over half a year. I scurried over, put down my bag, and asked how she was.

“Oh — I wanted to tell you! I’m moving away,” I said.

“Where?”

“To Finland!”

“Europe!” she seemed surprised in a good sort of way.

I gave the same explanation I’d given so many other people countless times. It rolled off my tongue, prepared, rehearsed, with all the necessary information packaged into the fewest possible words. It took less than thirty seconds. I had turned it into an art form. My mom’s family is there, and she wants to be with her parents because they’re getting older, so the whole family is going. For now. I haven’t decided how long I’ll be there. I get better and better at this performance every time, I thought.

“Europe is good, it’s better there,” she said, and I wasn’t surprised she would think that. Everyone thought that. Well, except the Europeans.

“You don’t have a boyfriend,” she observed, to my amusement. For some reason, there was a subset of people who immediately started analyzing what this move would mean for my nonexistent relationships. “That’s good, actually. Men in Europe are… more refined. Cultured. They like literature, and art… they have more history!” She looked at the skating rink in front of us, where a hockey practice was going on. “Men here are more… savage…”

I laughed awkwardly. I felt very slightly offended on behalf of all the men I knew. But I like them… I thought, I like them here exactly as they are…

Others’ Opinions Can Be Destabilizing

I did not expect to be affected by other people’s opinions on my family’s move. As far as thoughts go, I live and let live. Everyone is entitled to their judgement and to their expression of it. I like to think that I am more concerned with doing the right thing and following the will of God than I am with the perspectives of other people.

Nevertheless, I found it fascinating what sort of responses the news elicited from people depending on their degree of closeness. One stranger, after asking if I was dating, proceeded to ask whether I would move if I were dating, and how my parents would feel about that hypothetical decision. A family friend expressed that, objectively, it would be more ideal if only my mom went back for a short time to be with her family. One of my dad’s acquaintances declared to me decidedly that he did not understand us at all, and that he was betting we would return in six months.

Eventually, the cacophony of comments and advice takes a bit of a toll. I observed that, in my case at least, this is largely because moving already requires us to do a lot of emotional management and processing for ourselves and for our families, and then, in addition to that, we feel the need to placate others in one sense or another. They deserve answers and explanations, but only the sorts of answers and explanations that their degree of closeness warrants. We have to adjust our way of communicating to suit their position, regardless of how we may or may not feel.

I certainly prefer being open with people and letting them say exactly what they think. But the reality is that people will make assumptions and offer opinions, even with the tidy story you give them — in fact, especially with the tidy story you give them, since it’s so compressed and simple. Even if you think you are fairly good at distancing yourself from others’ perceptions of your life decisions — as I did — at one point or another, you will start internalizing what they said and wonder if it would be better to keep your real feelings to yourself. At this point, it’s necessary to take a step back and put others’ viewpoints and voices in their proper place.

Root Yourself in the Love of God

As always, I recommend that we begin doing this with God. Grounding ourselves in His love and care is the best buffer against the storm. I am convinced that God’s love abides with me everywhere I go, regardless of whether the experience is comfortable or the decision “right.” The psalmist tells us that we cannot flee Him — “if I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me…” (Ps. 139:8–10 ESV) 

I remember that God understands me, is “acquainted with all of my ways,” and that His “right hand shall hold me”. This allows me to approach the confusion of moving with greater security. After all, even “darkness is as light” with Him. He’ll look after me even when I don’t know what I’m doing, even if I make the wrong decision. This knowing, in turn, frees me from having to put up a perfect front for others. We’re all confused together, after all. 

Nevertheless, there is wisdom to be exercised in how we go about having conversations, so here are a few more things to keep in mind when talking to others about your move:

1. Remember that not all takes are equal.

There’s a difference between the stranger and the friend. The further removed the person, the less they understand the situation. After all, a shockingly common response from people I didn’t know was “I wish it were me!”

They meant well, of course, and I’m glad they have such good notions about Finland. However, the response is so spontaneous that it’s also quite thoughtless. Sometimes it felt like a projection of their own excitement over a romanticized image of Europe. But what are they to say, really? The polite response is to wish me the best, but the lack of curiosity and questions is a reminder of the distance that exists between us. They don’t know the particulars of my situation.

They do not consider the impact of uprooting one’s entire life, the decision-making process that goes into it, or the amount of energy required. Even if one wants it, even if it is a privilege (and it is), it is by no means easy. Europe is not like the movies. I’m not a tourist. I’m an ordinary person. Life in Europe is still ordinary life. I don’t want to dampen their enthusiasm, so I accept their words, but remind myself that it’s not worth hanging onto.

2. Remember that people speak from their perspective.

Eventually, it can pile up, though. Some acquaintances told me, This is great for you! You’re so lucky! And so, in the several weeks of depression that hit me after my move, I started to wonder if I was overreacting. I was sad, lonely, sometimes angry, and completely helpless in the midst of it, unable to make myself feel any positive emotions at all. All the while, people’s comments about how great an opportunity this was and how fortunate I am kept repeating in my head. I felt guilty and ungrateful, while knowing full well that this was just a part of the process.

If you’re anything like me, with the tendency to try to solve negative feelings by intellectualizing, it can be hard to reconcile TCK grief with what appears to be others’ more objective takes on the situation. I had to remind myself that these can co-exist — I am privileged, but things are also hard. Being thankful for the opportunities my life affords and recognizing the benefits in my situation does not negate the pain of loss. It’s okay to go through the grief of uprooting.

Although it might feel like others can see things more objectively (read: with less emotion), that is not necessarily so. Their take is just as subjective — an outsider’s limited view into your life. Remember that just because you think they reflect how you ought to feel does not mean that is the case. And even if it is, you cannot force yourself to feel the right way by suppressing certain feelings or by reasoning them away. Grieving is part of the process, and feeling is a part of the grieving.

3. Don’t put on a false front.

With all this in mind, it can be tempting to clam up and not share your feelings honestly with others when it feels like people don’t understand or take the time to try to understand. However, I find that this creates extra layers of frustration to work through, as you end up feeling like you’re hiding and faking for other people’s sake, when what you really need is support.

I certainly don’t advocate spilling out everything to strangers or acquaintances. If they don’t have the time to try to understand, they won’t. That’s why I have a short, succinct version of the story for them. And just because they can’t or won’t understand, doesn’t necessarily mean they are at fault in any way, either. Their relational distance from you does not require greater effort from them. That’s why we have acquaintances anyway.

However, at least in my experience, there were surprisingly astute people who immediately asked me, “How do you feel about this?” I was always tempted to give them the tidy, succinct story, too, but I think people deserve the truth. I told them that it’s hard, I have mixed feelings, and I am grateful, but I’m also unsure of the future. Sometimes they responded empathetically, sometimes they tried to reassure me from their vantage point, but I learned to appreciate their efforts at curiosity and listening. Just because people don’t respond perfectly doesn’t mean they don’t care. We all know it can be hard to say the right words to people who are feeling one way or another, and how easy it is for our best attempts to miss the mark. I try to be generous and accept care even when its delivery might be slightly rough around the edges.

4. Accept the kindness of friends.

The nicest comments I’ve ever gotten were just, “I’m sad.” It surprised me, too, that I wanted people to feel bad, but in the context of leaving people, their love for you really does translate into that. I recall a few years back, when my parents were discussing the possibility of a move that never came to pass, how irritated I was with all the family friends who supported it either with enthusiasm or a polite show of enthusiasm that I felt they were putting on for us. All I wanted someone to say was, “I wish you wouldn’t go.”

I think this is partly because I felt quite bad about leaving people, and if I find others feel the same, it gives my feelings more validity. But it also communicates, at this very turbulent time that jeopardizes my relationships, that I am important to someone and my place in their life matters in some way.

I understand why people don’t always say such things. I remember being at an art gallery and one of my friends saying specifically, “I’m sad you’re going, Lisa. You’re the only person I do this with,” immediately followed by, “but I don’t want you to feel bad —” and they changed the topic to something lighter. It’s the same way that I don’t want to reach out to my friends for support at this time, thinking that I will make undue emotional demands on them. I don’t want them to feel bad.

But sharing those things is what helps us grow closer, what makes us feel more seen, what allows us to be cared for. That’s why there’s this extra hurt in leaving, too, because you spend extra time with people before you go, and they say lovely things, and somehow you get closer in the three weeks you have left.

And yet, that’s what we need to get through the hard times. We need the kindness, the presence, and the support of others. So when you have the opportunity to really talk to someone who cares, tell them the truth. Give them the chance to support you and accept the kindness of what they say.

Final thoughts.

At the end of the day, people will think and say whatever it is that they think and say. Let them. All we can do, and all we should do, is remain honest, know who is worth listening to, and take care of our own internal world by being kind to ourselves, reaching for the support of those we trust, and continuing to meditate on the steadfast love of God.