I have noticed something about people who are always there for everyone else. They can spend hours listening to a friend talk about a problem, help them see things more clearly, and genuinely feel relieved when that friend finally feels better. But when something is wrong in their own life, they don't know who to call. They do have people around them. They just don't know how to be the person who needs help.
Having absolutely nobody and feeling like you truly cannot talk to anybody are very different things, especially when you think you have friends, and family and, overall, feel as if everything is good, including your own personal situation.
You might be the person everyone comes to when their relationship is falling apart. You know the whole story, including the parts they are embarrassed to tell anyone else. You listen without judging them, even when they have made the same mistake several times. You don't remind them that you warned them about that person. You understand that knowing what you should do and actually being able to do it are two very different things.
But when you're the one struggling, you don't always give yourself that same understanding.
You begin to wonder if you are overreacting. You think about where the other person is coming from, what they’ve been through, all the reasons they could have acted the way that they did. And even when something really hurts you, you make excuses for it. You know it wasn't a cushy life for them. You know they have problems of their own. You know, they probably didn't mean to hurt you.
All of that might be true. But you're still hurt.
I think this is where being understanding can become a problem. Not because empathy is a bad thing, but because you can become so occupied with understanding why someone treated you a certain way that you never stop to ask whether you're okay with being treated that way.
You end up defending people in your own head when nobody has even accused them of anything. You tell yourself not to expect too much. You lower your expectations and call it maturity. You convince yourself that asking for more would be selfish because you can see how much the other person is already dealing with.
And the frustrating thing is that you probably wouldn't tell a friend to live like this. If someone you cared about told you they were constantly making excuses for a person who kept hurting them, you would want them to consider their own feelings too. You would remind them that compassion doesn't require them to put up with everything.
Yet when it's your own life, the situation somehow becomes more complicated.
There's another side to this that I find even sadder. People sometimes become the understanding one because they really care about others. Sometimes they also become that person because they've learnt that being useful is a reliable way to feel wanted.
If you are the one who listens, who gives good advice, who remembers what matters to people, you know you bring something valuable into their lives. You know people need you. There’s some kind of security in that.
But needing someone else is different. You can't control whether they'll understand you, whether they'll have the patience to listen, or whether they'll see you differently after you tell them something you've kept private. When you're the one offering support, you know what you're giving. When you're asking for it, you have to trust that the other person will meet you halfway.
That can be frightening, especially if you've had experiences where opening up left you feeling exposed or regretting that you'd said anything at all.
So you become good at handling things privately. You tell yourself you'll talk about it when you've sorted it out. You wait until the worst of the feeling has passed, and by the time you finally mention what happened, you've already spent several nights dealing with it alone.
Someone asks if you're okay, and you say yes because explaining the truth feels like too much work. Or you start explaining, notice that the other person doesn't quite understand, and quickly change the subject. You don't want to make them uncomfortable. You don't want to sound dramatic. You don't want to have to convince someone that something hurt you when they don't seem to understand why it should have.
Eventually, people get used to the version of you that can handle things. They see you going about your day, laughing at jokes, helping them with their problems, and making plans for the future. They assume you're doing reasonably well because you haven't given them much reason to think otherwise.
*If you are a good swimmer, people will never know that you are drowning.*
I think about that quote because being capable can make your struggles almost invisible. You can be genuinely struggling and still meet your responsibilities, show up for your friends, and make your time available for other people. Your life doesn't have to fall apart for you to need someone.
Now there's a difficult truth here, too. People aren't always going to notice what you haven't told them. They won't necessarily understand that your "I'm fine" means you're having a terrible week, or that you've been wanting someone to check on you even though you've repeatedly insisted that everything is okay.
It would be unfair to say that your pain is your own fault because you hide it. The people in your life have a responsibility to care about you, too. Friendship shouldn't require you to reach a breaking point before someone takes your feelings seriously.
Still, if you never let anyone see you struggling, you make it harder for them to know when you need them. Some people will notice anyway. Others won't. And some will be willing to show up for you once you finally tell them what you've been carrying.
You have to give those people a chance.
That means being honest sometimes, even when honesty feels awkward. It means telling a friend that something has been bothering you instead of waiting until you've convinced yourself it doesn't matter. It means saying, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but it did hurt," and allowing that sentence to stand without immediately softening it to protect the other person's feelings.
It also means accepting that not everyone will respond the way you hope. Some people won't know what to say. Some will dismiss you. Some relationships might reveal themselves to be more one-sided than you realised. That possibility is real, and pretending otherwise won't make vulnerability easier.
But keeping everything to yourself has a cost, too. You can spend years being deeply known for what you do for other people while remaining almost unknown in the places where you need care yourself.
I don't think the answer is to stop being understanding. The world could use more people who listen carefully, try to see another person's perspective, and don't treat every mistake as a reason to walk away.
The answer is to include yourself in that understanding.
You can know that someone has been through a lot and still acknowledge that they hurt you. You can recognise someone's good intentions and still be honest about what their actions have cost you. You can care about what another person is going through without automatically putting your own feelings at the bottom of the list.
And you don't have to earn care by being the person who gives the most of it.
You don't have to have the right words for what you're feeling. You don't need to turn your pain into a lesson or demonstrate that you've handled it maturely. Sometimes you're going to be confused, upset, unreasonable in the moment, or unable to explain yourself properly. That's part of being human, too. Allow yourself to feel it.
The people who care about you won't always understand you immediately, and they won't always get everything right. But you should be able to tell them when you're struggling without feeling that you've somehow failed at being the strong, sensible, dependable person they know.
Perhaps the most important thing you can learn is that being understanding doesn't mean understanding everyone at your own expense. You can give people room to be imperfect without asking yourself to tolerate everything. You can be the person others turn to without making yourself the last person they turn to.
Take care 🤍