Conversation Guide: Supporting Someone Else
Part 1: What Not To Say

Part 1 covers what not to say and why the most common responses backfire. If you want to know what actually works, and why, that’s covered in Part 2. Either part stands alone, but they work better together.

Knowing what to say to someone who is struggling matters immensely, and we have a cheat sheet for that. But if you don’t actually understand what you’re saying or why you’re saying it, it won’t be authentic. It will come across generic and insincere, no matter how well you say the words. (The invisible signals give you away.) However, what’s more important is what you shouldn’t say, so we’re going to start there.

Most people don’t realize that the things we most frequently say to support the people we love are often harmful. They sound kind, and they feel good to the person saying it, but most of the time they actually damage trust and deepen pain and loneliness. Some of the most socially acceptable words of comfort are actually really awful.

We’re experiencing an epidemic of loneliness, and part of the reason is that we are constantly invalidating each other without knowing it, then patting ourselves on the back for being a good friend.

This conversation guide can help you understand how words of comfort are actually conclusions intended to wrap up the conversation. They essentially say “You’re wrong. And since you’re wrong, there’s not much left to talk about.”

The Most Common Things You Need To Stop Saying

Most people genuinely mean well, but the kindest sounding words of comfort are often the most damaging. There are three main relationship situations when people seek comfort and support: After a loss, after expressing doubts about their relationship, or when telling someone about conflict or abuse.

After a breakup, an ambiguous relationship door closing, or a death:
“Everything happens for a reason.”
“It could be worse.”
“It’s their loss.”
“This just means something/someone better is coming along.”

These statements sound kind and hopeful, but they’re all designed to give an explanation that leaves little room for further discussion. They subtly imply that pain and sadness are the wrong things to feel.

Because if there’s a positive reason this happened, then you shouldn’t be upset. If it could be worse, then it’s not that bad. If it’s their loss, then you’re not losing something, so why are you upset? These are all conclusions. They provide an explanation that, if true, don’t warrant such strong feelings, and move the conversation towards an end. It dismisses the pain your friend is feeling or the loss they are experiencing.

After expressing doubts or concerns about a current relationship:
“It’s not that bad, look at all the positive things.”
“Don’t get distracted by old feelings, you love your partner.”
“It’s just nerves. / Everyone gets cold feet.”
“But you two are so good together.”

These feel helpful to you, but typically feel dismissive to the person on the receiving end. Whether you mean to or not, you’re downplaying whatever doubt or concern this person just expressed. Imagine how hard it would be to turn to a friend and express such difficult concerns . Now imagine how it would feel if you confided genuine doubts to someone you trust, and they replied instantly with one of these.

Each of these essentially says, “You’re wrong and your doubts are unfounded.” That’s not comforting, that’s dismissive and judgmental. They came for support through something really difficult and were told their concerns aren’t important, and should be ignored. We do this to people we love all. the. time.

And here’s the thing - maybe they are wrong. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Maybe it is just nerves. But you haven’t even considered their perspective. But you can’t drew that conclusion without asking any questions or trying to understand why they feel the way they feel. To them, you’re saying their reasons are irrelevant and their doubts and concerns are unfounded or unimportant.

After describing an instance of conflict or emotional abuse
“That’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean it.”
“That doesn’t sound like abuse.”
“You probably misunderstood them.”

This one can be particularly dangerous. A lot of emotionally abusive tactics involve tiny, insignificant seeming things. It’s the ongoing pattern of repetition over time that does damage. So when someone is really upset, they’re reacting to the pattern. You hear it as a minor thing their partner did and you think “That’s it? They’re overreacting,” which essentially signals that the abuse is no big deal.

Obviously you’d never say that if you thought there was abuse—they should have told you this has been an ongoing issue for months. But manipulation messes with your head, and they may not be able to articulate the pattern to themselves, much less someone else. They’re reacting to the whole pattern, but they may not be able to connect the dots and see it. Without realizing it, you could be gaslighting them about their own abuse.

This one is tricky because we can’t play therapist all the time. If something sounds like no big deal, it’s hard not to dismiss it. We can’t react big to every minor sounding thing, but we can ask questions before dismissing them. Have they made you feel this way before? Is this somethings that happens a lot?

Because if they get dismissed enough times, they’ll start to think they’re the problem. They don’t want to keep sounding dramatic or overly sensitive, so they stop telling people. Even if the abuse worsens, they’re unlikely to turn to anyone who has dismissed them in the past.

Then when someone finds out, it becomes “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Other Ways We Tend To Miss The Mark

The situations above are specific: a loss, a doubt, a disclosure. They tend to get a specific type of response. But there are other patterns of responses that show up frequently across many situations.

Sometimes we try to relate and unintentionally shift the conversation to ourselves. If you have a comparable story, first decide it’s actually relatable or just similar. There’s a difference. Ask yourself how your story helps them, because it often helps a lot less than we think. If you do mention it, be brief, state the part that matters, and tie it back to them. Spending several minutes telling them your saga can feel like you’re minimizing theirs, as if telling your story from the past is more important than listening to their present.

One of the most common responses we have to friends and family who are hurting is to cheer them up. There may be times when that’s fine, but you have to figure that out first. Trying to cheer someone up when they’re in pain can send the message that their feelings are inconvenient or bothersome, and need to be changed. It tells them “Good vibes only” when they’re not feeling very good.

We also try to focus on the positive when we want to shift someone’s feelings. I can give you an example from my own life. During two extraordinarily difficult years, people would try to cheer me up by saying “ok but you’ve also accomplished a lot of good things. You finished your thesis, presented it at APA, and graduated with your masters.” It felt like I wasn’t allowed to be this hurt or feel loss just because I also had some wins.

The other reason this can be problematic is that what seems objectively positive might not be. About a year into my thesis, a number of significant things in my life fell apart. One of which meant I was suddenly living a lot of the painful things I was writing about. On top of everything else falling apart, working on my thesis started to feel like emotional torture. I fell so far behind that I missed two graduation dates.

So yes, I finished my thesis. I got a win among a lot of losses. But writing it amplified my already immense pain and kept me stuck in it day after day after day until it was done. It represents a brutal chapter in my life. I’m proud of it, but it’s not a positive memory.

So Why All Do We Keep Doing This?

The thing these all have in common is that they bypass emotion rather than acknowledging or engaging with it. When you bypass the emotion, you’re communicating distance instead of connection. You’re indirectly saying you’d rather jump ahead and give them the conclusion (according to you) than deal with their emotions and let them form their own.

You might think you’re helping, but this actually increases nervous system activation. Responses like these intensify stress and heighten self-criticism. Your nervous system also learns that expressing these emotions isn’t safe or acceptable, which can increase shame for feeling them.

The research on this is remarkably consistent across dozens of countries and cultures.

Similar research confirms that responses like these often benefit the speaker. It can reduce their own discomfort and helplessness. It protects their worldview while their friend’s experience contradicts it. We think we’re comforting our friend, but we’re actually comforting ourselves at their expense.

In a time when everyone seems to be struggling, we’re making each other feel worse.

You’ve probably done every single one of these things dozens of times. This doesn’t make you a bad person. Most people don’t know these responses are generally harmful. They’re extremely common and almost always well intentioned. And to be fair, there are times where some of these are appropriate, and knowing when is tricky.

The best thing to do is ask. That alone can make someone feel incredibly seen and supported. Ask if they want you to listen or give advice; to sit with them or cheer them up. Then respect their answer.

Before you try to make someone feel better, make sure they feel understood.

Most of us say these things because we're trying to help. We don’t intend to dismiss or invalidate our friend. But good intentions don't always produce good outcomes. Knowing what not to say is only half the picture. Part 2 explains what actually helps instead, and why.