Let me pipe up real quick.

People think they’re listening.
But they’re just loading their rebuttal.

You ever try to explain your pain and halfway through
you realize they stopped hearing you
the second your story didn't match theirs?

They ain’t listening,
they’re diagnosing.
Prescribing answers for wounds
they never even looked at.
Reading their own pain out loud
and calling it your truth.

Like a doctor giving you someone else's diagnosis.

Projection is a quiet violence.
It feels like love sometimes.
Sounds like concern.
But it's really control
wearing a kind face.

“I went through the same thing,”
they say,
and then go on to tell you about them
for the next 30 minutes.
Meanwhile your truth just withered in the corner,
unseen, unheard, disrespected.

See, this is the world I see:
A world full of people
who call assumptions insight
and confusion compassion.

It’s dangerous.
Because when people think they understand,
they stop asking questions.
They stop being curious.
And worst of all—
they stop being kind.

The loudest misunderstanding is
"I’ve been through this, so I know."
But maybe you don’t.
Maybe you went through your version.
Maybe my fire burns different.
Maybe my storm flooded a different part of the house.
And maybe, just maybe,
the strongest thing you could’ve done
was shut up and hold space.

Sometimes presence is louder than words.
Sometimes a nod is heavier than advice.

So let me offer something to anyone out here
who actually wants to love people well:

Stop projecting your pain
onto someone else’s healing.
Stop assuming their path
just because the terrain looks familiar.
And stop calling it support
if you’re not willing to listen
without editing their story
to fit your own.

You’re not the main character in someone else’s recovery.

This ain’t an attack.
It’s a plea.

We don’t need saviors.
We need mirrors.
We need people who reflect, not redirect.
Witnesses, not hijackers.

So if someone shares their struggle with you,
don’t reach for your memory—
reach for your humility.

You don’t gotta relate to validate.
You just gotta be real enough to sit with what is,
even if it’s not what you’ve known.

Because I promise you—
there’s a world out here full of unheard men,
drowned out by well-meaning people
who love talking about empathy
but ain’t practiced enough silence to know what it sounds like.

Remember we all carry something,

but here you don't have to carry it alone.

Pipe Up.

If you feel like your story isn;t being heard, write it out. Download our free reflections journal.

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