#weallcare

There are times when something bothers us — a situation, a thought, or even someone’s actions. We feel it weighing on us, but we hold it in. Why? Because sometimes we think,

"What’s the point of talking when the person I’d tell can’t help?"

Maybe they don’t have money. Maybe they don’t have the right words or connections. And so we choose silence.

Today, I was chatting with a friend. He had something on his mind, something bothering him. I tried to talk to him, to be there. And while we chatted, I remembered something he once told me:

“Whenever I’m going through something, I try to tell someone and he must either find a way forward or help in a way" That's what he said.

It made me pause. Because truthfully, whenever he tells me things, I sometimes feel sad… not just because of what he's going through, but because I feel powerless. I wonder what use I am if I can’t solve his problems. I’m not well-connected, I don’t have much to offer financially, and sometimes I feel like I’m not as exposed to the world as I should be to help someone else.

But today, I saw something differently.

It’s not always about giving someone a solution. Sometimes, it's simply about being there — just listening.

There’s healing in being heard.

There’s relief in letting it out.

There’s strength in simply speaking.

And I say this not just as someone who listens, but as someone who has lived it.

Sometimes I find myself in that same place — something bothering me deeply. And even though I feel like the person I want to talk to may not have the answer or anything tangible to give me, there’s always this quiet urge in me — an inner push — that says, “Speak.”

I go to someone close. Someone I trust not to laugh at my pain or call me delusional. And every time I do, even if the person can’t help financially, even if they just offer a kind word or a simple piece of advice… something shifts inside me.

It lights a spark. It lifts a weight. It brings a kind of peace.

Because once I’ve spoken, the thing that felt like a mountain starts to feel smaller. Just being heard becomes enough to breathe again.

So maybe it’s not about who can fix it.

Maybe it’s about who can listen with heart.

And maybe… that’s more powerful than we think.