It’s funny how, when comforting others, we often end up saying the things we secretly need to hear ourselves. I’ve caught myself doing this countless times — offering advice and encouragement, acting like I’ve got it all figured out. But the truth is, every word I say to someone else, I’m saying because a part of me wishes someone had said them to me.
I’ll tell a friend, “Stay strong. You’re doing great. I’m proud of you. It’ll get better.” And as the words leave my mouth, I realize I’m speaking to more than just them. I’m speaking to the part of me that’s felt lost, uncertain, or overwhelmed by my own challenges. In lifting them up, I’m trying to lift myself too.
The strange thing is, these words of comfort seem to flow so effortlessly when I’m supporting someone else. It’s as though I’ve rehearsed them a hundred times in my mind, ready to share with anyone who needs them — except myself. Somehow, it’s always easier to believe in others, to cheer them on, even when you’re struggling to apply the same advice in your own life.
When I’m listening to someone else’s struggles, my own worries take a back seat. Suddenly, everything feels a bit clearer. My own burdens, which felt heavy moments before, become lighter as I focus on helping someone else through theirs. It’s like a window opens in my mind, and for a brief moment, I see that the strength I offer to others also lives within me.
But why is it that we’re so much better at encouraging others than we are at encouraging ourselves? I can tell someone with complete confidence, “You’ve got this. Don’t give up.” But when I’m staring down my own obstacles, those same words feel harder to believe. Maybe it’s because we know ourselves too well. We see our flaws, our doubts, our insecurities — things we don’t notice as easily in others.
Still, I’ve come to understand something important: the words we share with others aren’t just for them. They’re for us, too. When we offer someone else comfort, we’re also reminding ourselves that we’re not alone. That no matter how hard things get, we are strong, capable, and deserving of the same kindness and patience we give to others.
And maybe that’s the beauty of it. In those moments of connection, when we speak words of hope to someone else, we’re also speaking them to ourselves. We’re planting seeds of strength and resilience, even if we don’t fully believe in them yet. The advice we give becomes a bridge — not just to help others across but to help ourselves find our way, too.
So I’ll keep saying the words I’ve always longed to hear: “You’re enough. You’re stronger than you think. Things will get better.” Because even if no one else says them, I’ll know that those words carry power. Not just to uplift others, but to remind me, too, that I’m capable of facing whatever comes my way.
And maybe, just maybe, in saying them enough times, I’ll finally start to believe them.