“Other People Have It Worse”: Why Minimizing Your Pain Doesn’t Help Anyone
Have you ever stopped yourself from crying or venting or even asking for help because you thought:
“I shouldn’t complain—other people have it worse”?
This phrase, and others like it—“This isn’t a real problem,” “I know I’m lucky,” “It’s not that bad”—may sound humble or self-aware. But more often, they serve as a form of emotional self-abandonment.
And while it’s true that suffering exists on a spectrum, that doesn’t mean your pain isn’t valid. Or worthy of care.
The Trap of Comparison
When we measure our emotional right to feel upset against someone else's misfortune, we’re setting up an impossible standard: only the worst pain deserves attention. That unless you’re at the very bottom, you should just be grateful and move on.
It sounds noble. It feels like perspective.
But often, it’s just avoidance in disguise.
Where This Comes From
This reflex to minimize pain often comes from early messages we’ve absorbed:
Don’t be dramatic.
Be grateful—it could be worse.
Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.
At least you have ___.
Maybe you grew up in a home where emotional needs were overlooked—or in a culture or profession that rewards stoicism and self-sacrifice. Maybe you’ve internalized the belief that unless you’re suffering visibly and severely, your struggles don’t count.
Whatever the source, the outcome is the same: you invalidate yourself before anyone else has the chance to.
Why It Doesn’t Work
Minimizing your pain doesn’t make it go away.
It just drives it underground—where it tends to resurface as anxiety, resentment, burnout, or physical symptoms.
It also makes genuine self-compassion harder. You end up gaslighting yourself, dismissing what you're feeling instead of tending to it.
And here's the truth: compassion is not a limited resource. You don’t need to ration it out to whoever’s in the most visible crisis. Your hurt deserves care, even if someone else’s hurt looks bigger.
You Can Hold Both
You can feel gratitude and grief.
You can acknowledge your privileges and your pain.
You can honor the struggles of others and take your own seriously.
This is what emotional maturity looks like—not choosing who "deserves" to suffer, but being able to hold space for complexity.
If you broke your leg, you wouldn’t say, “Other people have cancer, so I should just walk it off.” You’d get help. Your emotional pain deserves the same respect.
What to Try Instead
Next time you catch yourself saying, “I shouldn’t feel this way” or “Other people have it worse,” try:
“This hurts, and I deserve support.”
“Someone else’s pain doesn’t erase mine.”
“I can be grateful and still need help.”
These simple shifts can create more space for healing—and move you closer to emotional honesty.
Final Thought
Your suffering doesn’t need to reach a certain threshold to matter.
You don’t need to be falling apart to ask for support.
You don’t need permission to feel what you feel.
Being human is hard sometimes. Let that be enough.
If you’re tired of minimizing your emotions and ready to feel more grounded, self-compassionate, and connected—therapy can help. I work with individuals in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Vermont, and Washington DC. Reach out here for a free consultation call.