There’s a reason so many of us reach adulthood without knowing how to sit with someone in pain. We grew up in households where the priority was function, not feeling. We celebrate the job offer; we don’t talk about the breakdown that came before it. We get the marks; no one asks how we’re doing emotionally.

As research on South Asian mental health shows, South Asians report greater stigma toward mental illness than many other groups, and that stigma doesn’t just affect whether someone seeks professional help. It shapes how we talk to each other, how much we reveal, and whether we ever say “I’m not okay” at all.

Then there’s log kya kahenge: the ever-present question of what people will think. As the British Psychological Society has written, this phrase doesn’t just influence our career choices or marriage decisions. It seeps into our emotional lives. Silence becomes a form of survival. We don’t just avoid therapy; we avoid conversations with our closest family members, deny our own feelings, and internalise distress until it has nowhere to go.

What this means practically: when someone in our life is opening up, it’s often already taken an enormous amount of courage. How we respond in that moment matters more than we realise.

The Biggest Mistakes We Make (Even With Good Intentions)

Before getting into what to do, let’s talk about what tends to make things worse, because most of these mistakes come from a genuinely caring place.

Trying to fix it immediately.

When someone is in pain, our instinct is to find a solution. “Have you tried…?” “You should just…” “Why don’t you…?” This can feel dismissive, like we’re trying to end the conversation rather than be in it with them. Pain doesn’t need to be solved right away. It needs to be witnessed.

Minimising or comparing.

“At least you have…” or “I went through the same thing and I was fine” — even said kindly, these responses signal that their pain is too much, or shouldn’t be that big. It makes people shut down.

Jumping to silver linings.

“It’ll all work out.” “Everything happens for a reason.” These might be true, eventually. But when someone is deep in a hard moment, premature reassurance doesn’t comfort them; it just tells them we can’t handle what they’re actually feeling.

Making it about us.

We start sharing our own story to show we understand, and before long, we’re the one talking. Relating is good. Hijacking is not.

The vague offer.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Almost no one will take us up on this. It puts the burden back on the person who is already struggling.

What Actually Helps: How to Support Someone Emotionally

1. Ask before we advise

The single most underrated thing we can do is ask what kind of support someone needs before offering it. Try: “Do you want to talk through it, or do you just need to vent? We’re happy either way.” This small question shows respect for their autonomy and tells them we’re actually paying attention to them, not just performing care.

Some people want advice. Some people want to be heard. Assuming we know which one is often where things go sideways.

2. Listen to understand, not to respond

Brené Brown’s work on empathy makes this distinction beautifully: empathy isn’t about making someone feel better. It’s about feeling with them. That means resisting the urge to fill silence, to redirect, or to arrive at a conclusion before they’ve finished.

We can ask open questions. “What’s been the hardest part?” “How has it been affecting you day to day?” Then actually listen, not waiting for our turn to speak, but genuinely taking in what they’re telling us.

3. Validate before anything else

Validation doesn’t mean agreeing with every thought someone has. It means acknowledging that their feelings make sense given what they’re going through. “That sounds really exhausting.” “Of course you’re scared, this is a lot.” “It makes complete sense that you feel that way.”

This is particularly important in our context, where so many of us have been told, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that our feelings are dramatic, embarrassing, or a burden. Hearing someone say your feelings are valid can be genuinely healing, even if nothing else changes.

4. Show up in specific, practical ways

When someone is struggling, their capacity for basic tasks often drops significantly. Research on the brain’s energy use during distress confirms that mental and emotional pain is genuinely exhausting; it takes a physical toll. This is why one of the most powerful forms of support we can offer is practical.

We shouldn’t say “let me know if you need anything.” Instead: “We’re going to drop food off tomorrow, is 7pm okay?” Or “We’re free Saturday morning — want us to come over?” Specific, concrete offers are far easier to say yes to, especially when someone doesn’t have the bandwidth to figure out what they even need.

5. Keep checking in — without pressure

One of the loneliest feelings in grief or hardship is the silence that comes after the initial outpour. People reach out at first, then life moves on, and the person still struggling feels forgotten. A text that says “thinking of you today, no need to reply” costs almost nothing and can mean everything. We don’t need a plan or a deep conversation, just a reminder that they haven’t disappeared from our minds.

What to Do When We Don’t Know What to Say

Here’s the truth: we don’t always have to say something profound. Saying “We don’t really know what to say, but we’re here and we care about you” is more honest and more comforting than fumbling for the right words. Most people aren’t expecting us to fix their lives, they just don’t want to feel alone in them.

If someone is crying, we don’t tell them not to. If someone is angry, we don’t tell them to calm down. If someone is having a hard time articulating what they feel which, as South Asian Therapists notes, is especially common for those of us raised where emotional expression wasn’t modelled, we can gently offer language. “It sounds like you might be feeling overwhelmed? Or is it more like grief?” Sometimes having a word for what we’re carrying makes it a little easier to hold.

And if we say the wrong thing? It’s okay. We acknowledge it, course-correct, and keep showing up. The effort is what people remember.

Supporting Someone Who Won’t Talk About It

In many South Asian families, there’s a generational pattern of carrying everything internally, what mental health researchers describe as somatisation, where emotional distress shows up as physical symptoms: headaches, fatigue, stomach problems, disrupted sleep. The person might not say “I’m struggling.” They might just seem quieter, more withdrawn, less themselves.

We can support someone who isn’t ready to talk by staying present without pressure. We check in on mundane things: “Have you eaten?” “Want to come for a walk?” We normalise the idea that they can come to us when they’re ready. And sometimes, planting a gentle seed — “You don’t seem like yourself lately, we’re here whenever” — is enough to open the door without forcing it.

When to Suggest Professional Support

Being a good support person doesn’t mean being someone’s therapist. There are limits to what friends and family can hold, and recognising those limits is part of caring for someone well.

If the person we’re supporting seems to be struggling consistently over time, is withdrawing from daily life, or mentions feeling hopeless, it may be time to gently encourage professional support. We can say something like: “We love being here for you, and we also want to make sure you have the right kind of support. Would you be open to talking to someone?”

At Sukoon Cares, we understand the cultural context that makes this conversation complicated: the stigma, the fear of what it means, the worry about privacy. If you or someone you love could benefit from support that actually understands where we’re all coming from, we’re here.

The Bottom Line

Supporting someone going through a hard time isn’t about having the right words. It’s about presence, patience, and showing up consistently, even (especially) when we don’t know what to do. In our communities, where silence around pain has been normalised for generations, choosing to stay in the conversation is its own kind of radical act.

We don’t need to fix anything. We just need to let someone know they’re not carrying it alone.