The Story You Cannot See

You Don't Know What Someone Is Carrying

There is something I have learned over the years, both through my own experiences and through my work with people in hypnotherapy:

You really don't know what someone else is carrying.

We see people in moments. A conversation. A reaction. A decision. A social media post. A day when they seem distant, emotional, quiet, angry or withdrawn.

And from that tiny glimpse, we can sometimes create an entire story about who they are.

But we don't know their story.

We don't know what happened before they walked into the room. We don't know what happened when they went home. We don't know what they have survived, what they are grieving, what they are afraid of, or what they are desperately trying to hold together.

I've learned that people can look perfectly fine while carrying things that would surprise you.

And I've also learned that being misunderstood can hurt.

Sometimes the person who needs a little kindness isn't asking for someone to fix them. They aren't asking for sympathy or for everyone to understand every detail of their life. Sometimes they just don't want their struggles dismissed because someone else can't see them.

This is something I think about often in my hypnotherapy work. We can consciously know that something happened a long time ago, yet our body, emotions and subconscious mind can still respond as though it is happening now.

A fear can have a history.

A reaction can have a history.

A belief about ourselves can have a history.

Sometimes the person standing in front of us today is still carrying something that began many years ago. And we may never know. That doesn't mean we should excuse hurtful behaviour. Compassion doesn't mean having no boundaries. We are allowed to walk away from people and situations that aren't healthy for us.

But there is a difference between protecting ourselves and judging someone whose story we don't know. We can say, “That behaviour isn't okay with me,” without saying, “I know exactly what kind of person you are.”

We can have boundaries without cruelty.

We can disagree without humiliating someone.

We can walk away without needing to make someone the villain.

And perhaps we could all be a little more careful about the stories we create about other people. Because sometimes we are judging a chapter when we haven't read the rest of the book.

And then there is mental health.

You don't have to care about my mental health once a year. I just don't want you to pretend that you care about my mental health once a year. I don't need a perfectly worded post on a particular day of the year if, the rest of the time, we are still judging people for being too emotional, too sensitive, too quiet, too difficult or simply not themselves.

Real care doesn't always look like a post.

Sometimes it looks like a message that says, “I've been thinking about you. How are you really?” And then actually listening. Sometimes it means giving someone a little grace when you don't understand their behaviour. Sometimes it means noticing that the person who is always there for everyone else might need someone to be there for them. And sometimes it means not making someone feel ashamed for struggling.

I've had moments in my own life when I have felt misunderstood. Moments when I have wished someone had looked beyond my reaction and wondered what was underneath it.

Maybe that's why this matters to me. Because none of us knows what another person is carrying.

The person you think is rude may be hurting.

The person you think is distant may be overwhelmed.

The person you think has everything together may be barely holding things together.

The person you think has moved on may still be healing.

And the person you think you understand may have a whole story you've never heard.

So before we judge, perhaps we can pause.

I don't know what they've been through.

I don't know what they are carrying.

I don't know what happens when they close their front door.

I don't know their whole story.

We don't have to know someone's entire story to treat them with kindness. We don't have to agree with someone to show them compassion. And we don't have to fix someone to let them know they aren't alone.

Perhaps walking a mile in someone else's shoes isn't really about experiencing exactly what they have experienced. Perhaps it's about remembering that they are walking a road we cannot see.

And sometimes, the most compassionate thing we can do is stop judging the journey simply because we don't understand it.