Holding Other’s Pain when You’re in pain
May 13, 2026
Author | Hannah Hill
I’ve been slacking on my blogging for a minute now. And this blog gives a little insight into why…
I’ll be completely honest: I’ve had a hard fucking year. Starting around this time last year, we experienced some hard losses in our family. In that process, I had to keep others afloat while I processed my own feelings about these losses. Not only did I have to hold my family up, but as a therapist, I hold a lot of pain each and every day. These aren’t always the big pains that people expect therapists to deal with but a lot of times just the cumulative result of micro pains that we all experience as humans. That shit can be really hard. And as of late, it’s been really weighing me down.
Although within the past few weeks, I’ve noticed a shift and something interesting that I haven’t recognized in the past in my clinical practice: experiencing significant pain and struggle while simultaneously holding space for others’ pain has allowed me to see my own in a unique way. It’s allowed me to be fully connected in my sessions and listen more intently than I have. It’s allowed me to take my empathy to another, more meaningful level. I know right now that no one can get me out of my funk except for me. Sure, the reality is that it’s been a hard year and that life keeps hitting me. And it’s not always big stuff…sometimes just when I feel like I’m poking my head above water, a big old hand grabs my head and plunks me well below the surface yet again (figuratively, of course).
But the thing this has taught me is that I, as the therapist, am not the solver. I’m not the holder of the magical wand. I don’t have secret techniques in a hidden bag that I’m keeping only for special occasions. Sometimes the best I can do is listen to another human, acknowledge their struggle and their pain, and simply share that experience, as a human and say: man, that sucks. There’s a lot of pressure as a therapist: to be the one with the answers, to have the solutions, to help, to listen, to always be “on.” And I’m not just a therapist: I’m a mom, a wife, a teacher (yup, I got a side hustle, too), a daughter, a sister, a friend, a colleague, a mentor…and all of those things require care, time, and dedication. It’s a heavy load to carry and also a beautiful thing that so many people around me have faith in me to deliver on all of the deliverables required in those roles. But damn, sometimes it feels like I’m only recognized for not following through on the parts of those roles.
I describe the roles as fairies: when the grocery fairy doesn’t show up, people notice. When the lunches & snacks fairy forgets, people notice. No one seems to notice when shit is running smooth as silk. But when the fairy misses ONE thing, everyone takes notice. This is the invisible labor so many of us (and to be honest, a lot of us are women) struggle with on a daily basis. It’s a thankless job in a lot of ways and then we’ll get this glimpse of performative appreciation.
Take for instance Mother’s Day: so many mothers I know really wish their families would stop trying to make it “special” for them, because in all honestly, it creates more work. No, please don’t cook me a meal I’ll either have to clean up later or tomorrow. No, please don’t tell me to sit down and rest because all of the things I have to get done, still need to get done, and no one is picking those things up…they just sit until Monday. I wish someone would just give me a realistic card that says: “Mom, we have no idea how you do all the things. Most of them we don’t even know that you do. Thanks for being the everything fairy for us all the time even when you feel like complete and utter shit.”
I should work for Hallmark.
So to all my fairies out there: the invisible labor won’t stop but I see you!