Recently, someone asked me how I was.

Not the polite version of “How are you?” that we ask in passing, but a genuine question.

And I realised I didn’t really know how to answer.

The truth is that life has felt heavy.

Not because of one dramatic event, but because of the accumulation of many things.

Disappointments. Conflicts. Worries.

Plans that didn’t work out. Relationships that became strained. The endless emotional labour of trying to understand people I care about.

As a counsellor, I spend a lot of time trying to understand people.

I am curious about people. I want to know what sits underneath their behaviour. I want to understand the wounds, the fears, the stories that shaped them.

I genuinely believe that most people are doing the best they can with what they have.

But lately I have been reflecting on something important:

Understanding someone does not stop you getting hurt.

You can understand why somebody becomes defensive and still feel lonely.

You can understand their anxiety and still feel exhausted.

You can understand their pain and still feel the impact of their behaviour.

What I am beginning to understand is that compassion and self-abandonment are not the same thing.

Sometimes we become so focused on another person’s experience that we slowly lose contact with our own.

We become the listener. The supporter. The one who makes allowances. The one who explains. The one who understands.

Until one day we realise we haven’t asked ourselves a very important question:

“What has this been like for me?”

Not what has it been like for them.

Not what do they need.

Not how can I help.

What has this been like for me?

That question has been sitting with me recently.

Because whilst emotional resilience is important, our bodies often tell us when we have been carrying too much for too long.

Fatigue. Illness. Tension. A feeling of being emotionally stretched thin.

The body has a way of asking us to pay attention when we have stopped listening to ourselves.

One of the hardest lessons I am learning is that I can love people deeply and still acknowledge when something hurts.

I can care about someone’s struggles and still have needs of my own.

I can be compassionate without carrying responsibility for everybody else’s emotional world.

And perhaps most importantly, I can stop waiting for someone else to understand my experience before I give myself permission to honour it myself.

I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this:

Sometimes healing begins the moment we stop asking, “How do I get them to understand?” and start asking, “What do I need now?”

That question does not solve everything overnight, but it does gently shift our attention back towards ourselves. It reminds us that our feelings, our limits, and our needs deserve care too.

And perhaps that is what I am learning most right now:

Understanding others is a beautiful thing, but it should never come at the expense of understanding ourselves.

The same compassion we offer to others is something we are worthy of receiving too.

For me, learning to offer that compassion to myself is not easy, but it feels deeply needed. It is a practice I am still finding my way through, one baby step at a time.