Mental health support doesn't always mean knowing the right solution—it often means knowing how to hold space. When someone we care about is struggling, our instinct may be to offer advice, cheer them up, or "fix it." But often, what they truly need is something much simpler—and far more powerful: to feel seen, heard, and accepted.

In my practice, I’ve witnessed just how transformative emotional validation can be. I want to offer you a guide not just from theory, but from lived stories of pain, healing, and deep human connection.

Why People Come to Therapy: To Be Seen, Not Solved

Many of my clients come to me not because they’re looking for a diagnosis or a solution, but because they need a space where they can be fully seen. Their stories are heavy, their transitions inevitable—grief, loss, divorce, illness, depression. What they need most during these turning points isn’t advice or cheerleading. What they need is someone who can sit beside them in compassion without trying to move them away from their pain.

We live in a world where fear and stress spread easily. Somewhere along the way, many of us lost the capacity to sit with someone else's pain. It makes us uneasy. It brings up our own discomfort, our unhealed wounds.

So instead of staying present, we rush to fix. We offer advice, silver linings, or quick reassurance. But these well-meant gestures often leave the other person feeling alone, ashamed, or unseen.

To support others well, we also need to understand compassion—the willingness to sit with someone in their suffering, without needing to fix or change it. The word comes from the Greek compassio, meaning "to suffer with." Compassion is presence. It’s staying soft in the face of pain, even when it's uncomfortable. When we meet others with this kind of open-hearted attention, we become a safe place for them to land.

The Pain of Invalidation: One Client’s Story

A client once shared with me something that’s stayed with me: “I couldn’t tell people about my divorce, because I learned very quickly that in sharing that, I would be put in a position where I had to comfort other people because my marriage had ended. There was no space for my emotions and grief. I had to support them. I even felt guilty and ashamed for my own heartbreak.”

This is a painfully common experience. When people feel they can’t safely express their pain, they often choose to withdraw. Not because they want isolation—but because connection has become another burden. Instead of comfort, they meet discomfort. Instead of empathy, they encounter avoidance.

Sitting with the Unfixable: What Terminal Patients Teach Us

I am bringing a quite extreme example, but also this population of patients has so much to teach us. The most striking example of this dynamic comes from my work with my patients living with terminal illness or on the euthanasia trajectory here in the Netherlands. In Staring at the Sun, psychiatrist Irvin Yalom quotes Voltaire: “It is as impossible to stare fixedly at death as at the sun.”

And for their loved ones, witnessing someone die can feel like being asked to stare at the afternoon sun without sunglasses—overwhelming, blinding, too much to bear.

These patients often find themselves abandoned—not because their loved ones don’t care, but because those loved ones lack the tools, the emotional regulation, or simply the courage to stay close to pain that cannot be fixed. Often, I am the only person they feel safe talking to without feeling the need to perform, talk about dying—about when to stop fighting, how to say goodbye, how to prepare their families.

Many of these patients quietly suppress their own needs to protect the people they love. They carry their grief alone so their families won’t have to. They mask their fear so they don’t become a burden.

When emotional literacy is missing, even love can unintentionally create silence.

What Emotional Validation Sounds Like

Emotional validation is the antidote to this silence. It means recognizing someone’s feelings without judgment or trying to make them disappear. Most importantly, it’s about holding space for their experience—without expecting them to "get over it," without trying to cheer them up, and without making their pain about our own stories. It’s presence, not performance.

Here are some examples of what emotional validation (and invalidation) can look like:

When someone is struggling with depression

People experiencing depression often hear well-meant advice like, “You have so much to be grateful for,” “Just get out of bed and do something fun,” or my favorite "Don't be depressed"... These comments, while intended to help, often minimize the depth of what the person is feeling.

A more supportive approach sounds like: “It sounds like you’re carrying so much right now,” or simply, “I’m here for you, even if it’s just to sit in silence.”

When someone is anxious

Telling someone who is anxious to “calm down” or “just breathe” can feel dismissive, even if those suggestions are well-intentioned. Anxiety is often overwhelming and not something that can be willed away.

Try saying: “I can see how overwhelmed you feel right now,” or “Would it help if I stayed with you until it passes?” These phrases offer grounded support without judgment.

When someone has had a miscarriage

Many grieving parents hear things like, “At least it happened early,” or “You can try again.” While these may be attempts at comfort, they often erase the gravity of the loss.

Instead, you might say: “This is a heartbreaking loss. I’m so sorry,” or “It’s okay to grieve in your own time, in your own way.”

When someone is going through a divorce

Phrases like “You’re better off without them,” or “Everything happens for a reason” can come off as invalidating. They rush past the pain without acknowledging the grief.

Try offering: “I can’t imagine how much this hurts,” or “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

When someone is facing death or grieving a loss

People often hear, “They’re in a better place now,” or “Stay strong for your family.” These sentiments, though familiar, can close the door on raw grief.

A more compassionate approach might be: “There are no words, but I’m here with you,” or “Tell me what you miss the most about them.”

When someone is neurodivergent (ADHD or Autistic)

Neurodivergent individuals frequently hear dismissive or misinformed comments like: “Everyone’s a little ADHD,” “Just try harder to focus,” or “You don’t look autistic.” These statements invalidate real differences and reinforce harmful stereotypes.

Instead, you could say: “I want to understand how your brain works best,” or “Thank you for trusting me with this part of your experience.” Even asking, “Is there a way I can support you better right now?” creates space for honest connection.

Offering this kind of understanding, without assuming a ‘fix’ is needed, honors the person’s lived reality and fosters genuine empathy.

Compassion

Supporting someone in pain is not about perfection—it’s about presence. It's about offering them the one thing our culture often fails to: permission to feel.

Emotional validation isn’t just a communication tool; it’s a form of love. It’s the kind of love that says, “I’m not afraid of your sadness. I won’t run from your pain. I’ll sit with you in it.”

Compassion, as defined by researchers at UC Berkeley’s Greater Good Science Center, means "sensing someone else’s suffering and being moved to relieve it." It involves both emotional resonance and a motivation to act—not out of pity, but from genuine care and connection. It differs from empathy in that compassion includes a readiness to help, not just feel.

When we respond with compassion, we create space for others to bring their full selves—pain, confusion, fear, and all—into the relationship without fear of being judged or dismissed.

We can all learn to offer this kind of support. And in doing so, we help create a world where people no longer feel they have to suffer in silence.