There’s something quietly painful about feeling misunderstood.
You’re trying to share something real—maybe something messy, vulnerable, or hard to put into words—and the person on the other end just… misses it. They offer advice when you just wanted a shoulder. They change the topic when you were just starting to open up. They make you feel like your feelings are “too much,” or not valid, or not even heard.
And sometimes—if we’re honest—that person is us.
Not intentionally. We don’t mean to brush someone off or make them feel invisible. But there are these small emotional reflexes many of us develop, usually as coping mechanisms. We do them without realizing. And even though our intentions might be good, the impact can leave the other person feeling disconnected, dismissed, or quietly alone.
If you’ve ever found yourself wondering, Why do people pull away when I’m trying to be supportive? or Why do I always end up feeling distant from people who are struggling?—this is for you.
Let’s talk about six emotional reflexes that can quietly sabotage connection, and what we can do instead.
1. Jumping to reassurance too quickly
You’re telling a friend how overwhelmed you’ve been, and they immediately say, “You’ve got this!” or “You’re stronger than you think.”
On the surface, it sounds encouraging. But here’s the problem: reassurance skips over validation. And when someone hasn’t had their feelings acknowledged yet, even well-meaning positivity can feel like emotional gaslighting.
It’s a reflex many of us were raised with. We’re taught to look on the bright side, to stay strong, to not dwell on negative emotions. But when someone is in pain, reassurance too soon feels like we’re trying to fix them instead of feel with them.
Slow down. Before jumping in with encouragement, try reflecting what you hear.
“Wow, that sounds incredibly heavy.”
“I can tell this is really taking a toll on you.”
That kind of presence—before the pep talk—makes someone feel deeply seen.
2. Turning the conversation back to yourself
This one is sneaky, and we all do it sometimes.
A friend says, “I’ve been having a rough time at work lately,” and before we know it, we’re off on our own story: “Oh, I know how that feels. My boss last year was so toxic…”
The intention is usually to relate. We want to say, “Hey, I get it.” But the effect is that the spotlight shifts away from the person who just made themselves vulnerable. And they’re left wondering if they even finished their thought.
Let their story breathe. Stay with their experience a little longer before offering your own.
You can still connect by saying, “I really hear you. Do you want to talk more about what’s been going on?”
Connection isn’t always about swapping stories—it’s about holding space.
3. Trying to solve the problem immediately
This one shows up especially in people who are wired to help or fix things (hello, chronic problem-solvers).
Someone shares they’re struggling in their relationship, and before they’ve even finished talking, we’re suggesting therapy, better communication tools, or breaking up.
Again, it comes from love. We hate seeing people we care about in pain. So we go straight into action mode. But the truth is, most people don’t want a solution at first. They want solidarity.
Ask before advising.
“Would it help if we brainstormed some next steps, or do you just want me to listen right now?”
That simple question respects their autonomy and centers their emotional need.
4. Invalidating emotions with comparison
It doesn’t always sound harsh. It might show up like this:
- “Well, at least it’s not as bad as what Sarah went through.”
- “Other people have it worse.”
- “Try to be grateful—you still have a job.”
All of these statements may be factually true. But emotionally, they do more harm than good. Pain is not a competition. Telling someone to “look on the bright side” before they’ve processed their pain only teaches them to hide it next time.
Acknowledge that what they’re feeling makes sense given their situation.
You can say, “That sounds incredibly hard. It makes total sense you’d feel this way.”
Empathy doesn’t shrink their pain—it gives it room to breathe.
5. Minimizing to avoid discomfort
Sometimes, we deflect someone’s emotion because it stirs up something in us—guilt, anxiety, helplessness, or even our own unresolved grief.
So we say:
- “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
- “It’s probably not as bad as it seems.”
- “You’re just overthinking it.”
These phrases tend to pop out fast, especially if we’re not comfortable sitting with big feelings. But when we minimize, we tell the other person—without meaning to—that their feelings are too messy, too dramatic, or too inconvenient.
Be honest with yourself. If their emotions are stirring something up in you, name it internally. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by what they’re going through.”
Then ground yourself—breathe, soften your posture—and say something simple like,
“I don’t know exactly what to say, but I’m here with you in it.”
6. Disengaging emotionally while staying present physically
This one’s harder to spot. You’re sitting with someone. You’re nodding, maybe even saying the right words. But emotionally, you’ve checked out. You’re not really with them.
And people can feel that.
It might come from compassion fatigue. Or from being too distracted. Or simply not knowing how to respond. But emotional absence can feel more isolating than physical absence.
Before responding, ask yourself, Am I really here right now?
If not, take a breath. Ground your attention. Look them in the eye. Put your phone away.
You don’t have to say much. Often, the most healing thing is simply being fully present.
People aren’t just listening to what you say—they’re feeling how you say it.
These emotional reflexes—reassuring too fast, turning the spotlight, trying to fix, minimizing, comparing, emotionally checking out—often come from a good place. We’re trying to comfort. We’re trying to be helpful.
But comfort that bypasses presence doesn’t land.
Understanding someone isn’t about having the perfect response. It’s about staying with them long enough to know what the moment is actually asking for.
Sometimes that means silence.
Sometimes it means saying, “I don’t know what to say, but I’m here.”
Other times it could mean to listen without interrupting.
And when you offer that kind of presence—the kind that feels safe, open, and non-judgmental—something beautiful happens.
People soften.
They open up.
They feel seen.
And isn’t that what we all want, really?
Not perfection. Just presence.