What True Support Looks Like: The Power of Presence

Imagine seeing someone you love struggle. You want to ease their pain, but you don’t know how to. Watching someone you care about struggle is one of the most helpless feelings in the world.

You want to make things right. You want to help them feel better. You search for the right words or right things to do. But then you wonder, will it help or will it make things worse for them? And more often than not, you end up doing nothing, not because you don’t care, but because you’re afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

One thing that our tough times teach us is how people show up for each other. Some arrive with advice. Some offer solutions. Some disappear because they don’t know what to do. And then there are those who simply stay.

Looking back, I’ve come to realize that even when people genuinely care, they hesitate to check in because they don’t know how to do that. It’s okay if we don’t know how to show up immediately. Supporting someone is something we can always learn.

When I struggle, I have a tendency to isolate myself. I don’t need dramatic gestures, but a quiet presence of someone who isn’t in a rush to know what’s wrong can help. It might not be the same for you. Offering support isn’t a one size fits all thing. 

The kind of support one needs might vary from person to person. There isn’t a right or wrong way of doing that but your empathy matters above everything else. The secret ingredient is your genuine presence! Over time, I’ve realized that support is less about finding the perfect words and more about making them feel that they don’t need to carry their pain alone. 

Here are a few other things that I’ve learned about support both while struggling and witnessing others who are struggling.

Listen Without Trying to Fix Their Problems

Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is listen to them without any judgements, without the urge to fix everything. Not every word needs analysis and not every emotion needs fixing. At times, what the struggling person wants isn’t a solution but just a pair of ears to hear them out. Feeling heard can be healing!

Sometimes Silence Offers More Support than Words

Silence doesn’t always need to be awkward. Silence can, in fact, convey things that no words have the power to hold. The person needing support might not be ready yet to talk about things stealing their peace. And that’s alright. 

Words don’t need to feel forced either from you or from the person struggling. We constantly feel the urge to fill the silence because it can feel uncomfortable. But we can simply try to create a space where they feel comfortable enough to be themselves in. They don’t need to talk if they don’t want to. At times, all they need is a safe space to just breathe in silence.

I find it really hard to be vulnerable before people. Sometimes, I feel like the words just can’t escape my mouth. But I do speak my mind when the presence feels safe enough. And then there are times when no matter how comforting someone’s presence is, I prefer silence.

If a situation like this becomes challenging, I feel you! You can try saying, “I’m here if you want to talk. And I’m still here even if you just want to sit in silence.” Yes, silence is not the solution and talking about your concerns is important. But creating a space where they feel ready is equally important.  

When "Stay Strong" isn't What They Need 

We have this instinct to say “stay strong” to people having a hard time. While people usually mean well when they say this, these words often carry the weight of an unspoken burden. 

What you say is often heard by them as: 'You should always have it all together', 'You shouldn’t feel this pain', 'You are not allowed to cry and be vulnerable'. 

Strength isn’t always the absence of tears or vulnerability. In fact, the person surviving emotional pain is already carrying more than anyone could ever see. Asking them to “stay strong” can unintentionally add to that burden, instead of giving them permission to simply be.

We often wear strength like armour. But armour isn’t meant to be worn forever. Eventually, it becomes heavy. Constantly holding it all together can be exhausting. You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to fall apart sometimes. It’s okay to take that armour off for a while and just let yourself be.

You don’t have to keep holding everything together all the time. A more compassionate approach is to say, 'It's okay to pause, breathe, and take your time to heal. I'm here for you. You don't have to carry it alone.’

When Comparison Hurts More than it Helps

“I never behaved like you when I was grieving”, someone said this to me once without realizing my struggles while I was quietly sitting with my grief, unaware of the weight I was carrying within. I felt invalidated. As if someone told me that my pain wasn’t worth feeling. Or that my way of grieving is less acceptable than theirs.

It feels less lonely when we know that there are people out there going through something similar to us. But while sharing our experiences, let’s pause and ask ourselves, ‘Am I sharing this to comfort them, or is it to shift the focus to my story?’ At times, what they need the most is to simply feel seen.

Your story matters, and your pain is real too. But let your experiences become a bridge to understanding and comfort, not a measure against which their pain is judged. 

Related post: What My Grief is Still Teaching Me  

Take Care of Yourself too

Listening to someone in distress, being the container of someone’s emotions can be emotionally taxing. Remember to be there for yourself too while being there for others. Do not forget that your well-being matters too. If it becomes overwhelming for you, reach out for support for yourself. 

If continuing to hold their hands seems difficult, connect them to the right support. Sometimes, being there also means recognizing when someone needs professional help. Here are some mental health helplines you can refer them to for counselling.

• Tele-Manas (National Mental health Helpline): 14416 (available 24x7)
• Vandrevala Foundation: 9999666555 (Call and WhatsApp chat support available 24x7) 
• iCALL: Call on 9152987821 or write at icall@tiss.ac.in (available from Monday to Saturday: 10:00 am to 8:00 pm)
• Mpower Minds: 1800 120 820050 (available 24x7)

Maybe we don’t need all the answers. Maybe we don’t need fixing. Maybe what we really need is one human being understanding the humanness of the other, meeting them with compassion. 

Sometimes the reassurance that someone is there to listen even when we don’t speak, that someone stays beside you even when you don't quite feel like yourself, is comforting. You don’t need to show up with big gestures or perfect words, sometimes, simply showing up helps. 

We often underestimate the power of presence because it doesn’t feel enough. But at times, even your mere presence can be extremely helpful for someone to feel less lonely while struggling.

So, if you want to support someone who’s struggling, stay. Listen. Let them know that they don’t have to carry it alone.


What kind of support helped you in your healing journey?

What Grief is Still Teaching Me

For the longest time, I felt like I wouldn't be able to write again, that the writer in me fell asleep never to wake up again. And trust me the feeling is not very pleasant. It hurts when the things that naturally come to you become impossible to do.

It took every ounce of courage in me to write this blog post. But I wanted to do it. No matter how difficult it felt, I had to write again. Not for me but for him, my father. He was the one who encouraged me to create this space; he was also the one who unknowingly passed on the love for words. And even though writing again feels like climbing a mountain, I have to do it, to keep him alive in me, in my words. Because the space created with his encouragement didn't deserve silence. 

So I’m trying to write again, to honour him. What feels difficult to express to anyone, I decide to let the paper be a witness to that pain. Vulnerability is not easy but writing has a way to make it a little easier. Though my biggest cheerleader isn't by my side now, I'm here, and trying to write again.

Life hasn't been easy lately but then again when was life supposed to be easy? Grief can be the most heart-shattering and devastating thing anyone can ever experience. And I’m not here to tell you about what grief is and how you should grieve. Nor am I here to preach about it. This post is different in many ways. Today I just want to talk about the things my grief has taught and is still teaching me.

Your grief changes you

 

Death doesn’t just take the person you love, but a part of you, a version only they knew, is gone with them. I changed in ways I never asked for. And it has been difficult to live with this version of myself. 

You laugh but with a pain in your heart, your eyes are full of tears while feeling empty, every achievement feels incomplete, you start running from yourself while still trying to hold it together. You distance yourself from what you like because what you love is gone. You feel lost while constantly searching for ways to fill their absence. 

You change, and nothing can change that.

 

Grief reveals who stays

 

It feels like I'm going through so many losses all at once. My grief has distanced me from people or rather, people uncomfortable around my grief have distanced themselves from me. Not everyone dares to be there for you, to hold your grief, and that's fine. 

 

Not everyone knows the right words to say or the right things to do. But it's not about the ‘right’ things, it's about holding that space for someone in distress. Some people you expect support from disappear and the ones you least expect it from step up. And I think it’s painful yet beautiful.

I was told by people that they were afraid of being around me, that they feared saying the wrong things, and that they felt uncomfortable around my grief. And I tried to understand even though I didn't want to. It becomes extremely difficult to carry the weight of your grief along with the weight of someone's discomfort due to that grief. It becomes challenging when people expect you to understand them when you are not even able to understand yourself. 

 

Not everyone grieves the same way and that's okay

 

Everyone has their own way of grieving. Some decide to talk about it while others choose to bury it in the deepest corner of their heart. Some need company, some need solitude to process the loss. Some express it through art or writing, while some just prefer to sit with it in silence. Some fall deep into the agony, while others try to keep going for the people they love. And none of them is right or wrong. It’s about what helps you feel better.

People compared our loss with that of someone else too. How they had it worse, how I still got time, how I should try to stay strong. And I honour how some people handle their pain so gracefully. But pain can’t really be weighed on a scale. Nor can we expect people to experience it the same way. 

 

A few months back, my cousin also lost her husband. And I remember someone telling her not to cry when she finally started crying. Women who went through similar losses were preaching to her about how she should act in a way they acted. They absolutely meant well but it shook me to the core.

You do not need to compare your way of grieving with that of someone else. Nor do you need to doubt yourself when others tell you to grieve in a certain way. It’s your loss and you can decide what helps and what doesn’t. (And I’m not talking about spiralling into unhealthy habits, I’m sure you know the difference :))

 

It’s okay to smile while you grieve

 

Grief is strange. One moment you’re smiling, laughing with others and the next moment you’re sitting with your grief sobbing your heart out. People misunderstand it as being moody or being too much. I remember feeling utterly guilty for smiling. One moment I’m in the present and the next I’m suddenly lost in the memories. 

But you are allowed to be happy again while grieving. I won’t lie, I’m still having a hard time accepting this, but it’s true. You are allowed to miss them, but you’re also allowed to smile while talking about them. You can feel sad and cheerful at the same time and it’s okay.

Grief is something many of us carry till our last breath. Healing from it completely is impossible for many. You just learn to live with the pain. 

 

It’s been just 10 months and 7 days since I lost my father. Each moment unfolds a new story, a different kind of pain. I’m still trying to process the loss, still trying to accept that he’s gone but while doing that, I’m also trying to keep parts of him alive in me. One way I’ve figured out is by writing. So, please stick around to witness it. 

 

This isn’t some comeback post. Writing is still a distant voice for me, and I'm trying to listen to it. But you'll hear from me again very soon. :)


Stay healthy!