Why Is It So Hard to Sit With Pain?

We don’t need someone to fix our pain—only to sit with us in it.

There’s nothing lonelier than sharing your pain and realizing no one’s listening.

I was on a date recently with someone who seemed completely weighed down by his own life. When I mentioned that my dad and stepdad had died last year, he didn’t even acknowledge it. Just kept talking.

And when I said I was disappointed about getting injured snowboarding, he brushed it off with, “Well, there’s always next winter.”

He just kept venting—about how mistreated he was by his exes, how upset he was that his dad had married a much younger woman….

I’m good at listening, at holding space for others, and more often than not, I enjoy being there for people. But in this case, his sharing felt like a burden. It didn’t feel like connection—it felt like emotional dumping.

It made me wonder: Do people ever feel that way when talking to me?

Especially lately—because for the last two years, my life has felt like a hurricane swept through and took everything down.

I don’t want to be someone who emotionally dumps. And at the same time, I believe in being real. I believe in the importance of not sugarcoating reality, not engaging in toxic positivity, and not pretending things are fine when they aren’t.

So I’ve been reflecting: What makes sharing pain feel meaningful instead of draining?

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The Instinct to Fix

I’ve noticed that when I share my pain with others, many people’s first instinct (and I’m guilty of this too) is to try to fix it, shift the focus, or compare it to someone else’s suffering.

They might say:
➡ “I can relate—when X, Y, Z happened to me…”
➡ “It could be worse.”
➡ “At least you don’t have this problem.”

And while the intentions may be good, these responses don’t help.

"People don’t need a solution. They need to be witnessed."

After years of therapy, I’ve learned that when someone shares their pain, they’re not looking for a fix, a comparison, or a silver lining.

They just want to be seen.

They want someone to sit with them, hold space, and acknowledge what they’re going through—without discounting it or trying to change it.

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Why Is This So Hard?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this.

Why do we struggle to simply witness each other’s pain?

• Is it because we’re already carrying so much of our own?

• Is it because so many people have never had anyone do this for them—so it’s hard to give what they’ve never received?

• Is it because we’ve been conditioned to believe that optimism and “fixing” are the only acceptable responses to suffering?

The truth is, when pain isn’t witnessed, it feels heavier.

We become bitter. We feel alone.

"But when we’re seen—something shifts. We connect."

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Why Do Some People’s Pain Feel Easier to Hold Than Others’?

I’ve also noticed that when some people share their pain, we feel able to listen. And when others do, it feels like a burden being placed on us.

Why?

Maybe it has to do with how the pain is shared.

"Pain shared as an invitation to witness feels different from pain shared as a demand to be carried."

Pain that comes with some self-responsibility tends to be received better than pain that feels like it’s being offloaded onto someone else.

But even when someone shares their pain perfectly, the listener’s capacity still plays a role.

Sometimes, the person we’re opening up to just doesn’t have the emotional space to hold it—no matter how much they care.

"It’s hard to meet all the demands of being alive."

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Holding and Being Held

I want to be someone who can sit with others in their pain. But I also feel tired.

I don’t always have the energy—especially when it feels like someone is asking me to carry their pain for them or when they’re caught in a loop, not actually trying to transform it.

So maybe that’s part of the answer:

We don’t need to carry each other’s pain—we just need to witness it.

No one can hold everything for someone else. The weight would be too much.

"If we create spaces where we can truly listen—without needing to fix, compare, or minimize—perhaps we can begin to heal, both individually and collectively."

Also, if you catch yourself telling the same story over and over, and it isn’t changing—maybe try actually feeling the pain instead of just talking about it.

Because at the end of the day, we don’t need someone to make it better. In fact, they can’t. We each have the responsibility for our own lives.

We simply need to know that in our hardest moments, we’re not alone.

That someone is fully there, sitting with us in the dark, not turning away.

So I am aiming to share in a way that holds myself—and to listen with presence.

Have you ever felt like someone couldn't sit with your pain? Or have you struggled to hold space for someone else's? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.