How to Sit with Our Distress as Parents

I remember once when my two-year-old bit another child at daycare. I burst into tears.

Blame it on the hormones, the embarrassment, or the sudden wave of shame—but I remember thinking, How could my baby do that? Where did I go wrong? I thought I had done everything right. Okay, maybe I could have done this or that differently, but still—I’m a good mom. How did we get here?

Looking back, I realize what was happening in that moment. I was blaming myself for my son’s behaviour, even though he is his own living, breathing human being. I cannot control everything he does, and his actions are not always a reflection of my worth as a parent.

Now, this is a mild example. But the point is this: as parents, we often turn inward and blame ourselves when our children experience struggle, hardship, or difficulty. Many parents carry a quiet belief that if they love their children enough and do things “right,” their children will be protected from pain. But the truth is that parenting often asks something much harder of us—not to prevent every struggle, but to learn how to stay present when our children are hurting.

When the people we love are young, their pain can feel easier to understand. If they fall and scrape their knee, we know exactly what to do. A bandage, a hug, a few quiet moments together—and slowly the tears settle. Even when the crying is loud, we recognize what happened and trust that comfort and care will help them move through it.

But as our children grow, the pain they carry often becomes less visible. Emotional and mental struggles do not show up the way physical injuries do. There is no obvious wound to clean, no cream to apply, no quick fix. When someone we love is hurting inside, we often start searching for the right words—the advice, reassurance, or explanation that might make everything better.

And many of us have experienced that moment when the words we hoped would help simply don’t land.

The distress remains.

We may feel confused, worried, or powerless. Watching someone we love struggle—especially our own child—can be incredibly painful when we cannot immediately make it better.

When someone close to us is experiencing anxiety, depression, trauma, or overwhelming stress, their pain can begin to live in our bodies too. We replay conversations. We lie awake wondering if we missed something. We carry a quiet sense of responsibility for helping them feel okay again.

Over time, that weight can feel heavy. Frustration or helplessness may creep in—not because we don’t care, but because we care so deeply.

In trauma-informed work, we often return to a simple but powerful truth: healing rarely begins with fixing. It begins with connection.

One of the most meaningful things we can offer someone who is struggling is our presence. Sitting with someone in their distress—without rushing to solve it—can be profoundly regulating for the nervous system. When we acknowledge what they are experiencing and let them know they are not alone, we begin to create safety.

Sometimes this sounds simple, like gently reflecting what we notice:

“It seems like things have been really overwhelming lately.”
“I can see how much this is weighing on you.”

These moments of recognition help people feel seen rather than judged. In a world where many people feel pressure to hide their struggles, being met with compassion can make an enormous difference.

It is also important to remember that emotional healing is rarely linear. Sadness, anger, fear, grief—these emotions are often part of the process of making sense of our experiences. When someone begins to share their pain, it may actually mean they finally feel safe enough for those feelings to surface.

Supporting someone through that process requires patience and gentleness—both toward them and toward ourselves.

At the same time, supporting someone does not mean carrying everything alone. Healthy relationships include boundaries, self-care, and recognizing when additional support might be helpful. Therapy, community supports, cultural connections, and trusted relationships can all play important roles in healing.

What many people need most in difficult moments is not perfect words or immediate solutions. They need to know that someone is willing to walk beside them while they find their way forward.

And sometimes, as parents, that means learning to sit with our own distress too.

Because when we can remain steady in the presence of pain—ours and theirs—we help create the conditions where healing can begin.