“Sometimes we feel we must stay strong, never allowing ourselves to cry like a baby.”
— David Johnson, Bashful Elephant Counseling
Yesterday I was working in the garden when I tripped over a hose and landed against a stake sticking up from the ground. I scraped my calf badly—about a three-inch gash, deep enough to immediately start bleeding. The pain was sharp and intense, and I yelled out loud.
But what surprised me most was what happened only seconds later.
I felt tears come rushing up.
Not just because it hurt like hell, but because I was alone with the pain. No one was there to comfort me. No one saying, “Oh my God, that must hurt.” No one rushing over with concern, saying, “Let me take care of that,” or “Do you think we should go to the doctor?”
Maybe what I really wanted was something even deeper and more childlike—a hug, reassurance, someone softly saying, “It’s going to be okay.” Maybe even those simple words mothers sometimes say to children: “Can I kiss it and make it better?”
At that moment, I wanted someone to react with the same intensity as the pain I was feeling. I didn’t want to minimize it. I wanted someone to emotionally join me in it.
But of course, the “macho male” voice quickly showed up:
“It’s only a scrape.”
“You’re a big boy.”
“You can handle it.”
And like many men, I never even considered reaching out to anyone.
Instead, I quietly cleaned the wound myself and kept going.
But internally, I caught myself thinking:
I wish I could seek out some mother love right now.
No matter what age we are, we do not want to feel alone with our pain—whether it is physical or emotional. We want someone in our corner helping us carry it, someone helping us feel safe when we feel vulnerable.
Have you ever noticed how a few comforting words, spoken at exactly the right moment, can soften even unbearable pain?
I remember during the deep grief and loss after my breakup, one person said something to me I will never forget:
“That must feel unbearable. That kind of pain can make a person feel so alone. Let me help carry some of it with you today.”
Those words did not fix my grief.
But for a moment, I did not feel abandoned inside it.
In therapy we talk a lot about self-soothing and self-regulation. Those are important skills. We are taught that emotional wellness means learning how to calm ourselves independently, to manage our own feelings, to stand on our own feet emotionally.
And yes, there is wisdom in that.
But I sometimes wonder if we have swung too far toward emotional self-sufficiency.
Sometimes healing is not about regulating ourselves alone.
Sometimes we simply need another human being.
Someone safe enough for us to collapse into for a moment.
Someone trustworthy enough to witness our vulnerability without trying to fix, judge, or minimize it.
Someone willing to hold our pain with tenderness.
There have been so many moments in my grief when I wanted someone to simply hold me while I cried. Not solve anything. Not give advice. Just stay present.
But instead, I carried it alone.
Maybe part of healing is admitting that even strong people still long to be comforted.
Maybe the deepest strength is not always independence.
Maybe sometimes it is allowing ourselves to need care.
Or:
Maybe growing older is not about needing less comfort.
Maybe it is finally admitting how much we have always needed it.
EXERCISE
When was the last time you needed comfort and felt completely alone—or even when someone tried to support you, but it still fell short of what you emotionally needed most?
Remember, don’t act your age!