There’s this fire that burns in you when someone you love is struggling — a primal, almost uncontrollable urge to swoop in and fix everything.
In the beginning, you’re practically unstoppable.
You’ll listen to their pain, offer advice, and text back at lightning speed. You might even Google their symptoms, suggest therapy, and remind them how amazing they are at 2 a.m., all while silently ignoring the slow burnout creeping up on you.
But then?
Then the hard part begins.
Days turn into weeks, maybe even months.
You watch them slowly but surely try to climb out of the darkness. Some days, it feels like they’re finally getting there. Other days, it’s two steps back. And on those days, when the same problems resurface like a broken record, you realize something unsettling: you’re exhausted too.
Take my best friend, for example.
Six months ago, her life hit a wall. Therapy entered the chat (good), along with anxiety and depression meds (better). But here’s the thing about therapy — it’s only as good as the therapist.
And hers?
Less “life-changing confidant” and more “family member who talks over you at Thanksgiving.”
Comforting in a weird way, sure, but helpful?
Not so much.
Tonight, she texted me after another frustrating session:
“So I cried at therapy, and my therapist literally spoke the entire 50 minutes.”
I stared at my phone, already drained from my own day, and fired back:
“I’m not even sure what to say to that. You keep staying with her for whatever reason.”
Then, as an afterthought, I added:
“I hope you found the session helpful at least.”
That was it.
No long conversation.
No deep dive into her feelings.
Why?
Because I couldn’t do it — not tonight.
Not for the fiftieth time.
And guess what?
That’s okay.
You’re Not Their Therapist (And You Shouldn’t Be)
Here’s the hard truth: loving someone through their mental health journey doesn’t mean sacrificing your own sanity.
Yes, you want to be there.
Yes, you want to help.
But your well-intentioned support isn’t limitless. And when you find yourself spiraling into frustration because you’re having the same conversation again or because they refuse to leave their toxic therapist, it’s a sign: you need to set boundaries.
That doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you stop carrying their struggles as if they’re your own.
Mental Health Is Messy — For Everyone
The thing about mental health struggles is that they don’t come with a manual.
People stumble, regress, and sometimes cling to things that aren’t helping them (hi, bad therapists). Watching that unfold is maddening when you’ve done everything you can to nudge them toward progress. But here’s the kicker: it’s their journey, not yours.
You don’t have to solve their problems. You don’t even have to have the answers. Sometimes, all you can do is send a “thinking of you” text, gently point them toward better solutions (if they’re ready to hear it), and then step back.
Why Taking Care of Yourself Is Non-Negotiable
When you’re constantly pouring into someone else, your own cup runs dry.
And an empty cup?
It helps no one.
If you’re not checking in with yourself — your energy, your boundaries, your mental health — you’ll burn out faster than you think.
It’s not selfish to say, “I can’t talk about this right now.” It’s not cruel to respond with something short and simple instead of diving into an emotional deep-dive every single time.
It’s called self-preservation.
And here’s the best part: when you take care of yourself, you’re actually better equipped to support them in the long run.
You’re Not the Villain for Choosing Yourself
Let’s be clear: setting boundaries doesn’t mean you don’t care.
It means you care enough about your own mental health to ensure you can show up in a way that’s sustainable.
And sometimes that means telling your best friend, “I hope you found the session helpful,” and leaving it at that.
They’ll have setbacks.
You might feel like a broken record. But you don’t have to be their therapist, their savior, or their 24/7 crisis hotline. You just have to be you — and you can only do that if you’re taking care of yourself first.
So the next time you find yourself on the verge of sending a dissertation-length response or staying on a call for hours when you’re already depleted, ask yourself this: Am I helping them right now, or am I hurting myself?
Because here’s the truth: the best way to support someone else is to make sure you’re okay too.
No guilt.
No shame.
Just balance.
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Hi, I’m Fiona, a writer going through an unexpected chapter in life.
I lost my job in April 2024, and my husband and I have been getting by on his small medical residency income. After stepping away from IVF, we were surprised and overjoyed to find ourselves pregnant, but it’s added financial stress as we prepare for this new journey.
Writing is my way of contributing to our family while covering essentials like groceries, bills and maybe items for our 🌈 miracle baby.
If you’d like to support us, your kindness would mean the world — every little bit helps. $1, $2…Anything is appreciated. Donate here (Venmo).
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Read also: Our Marriage Ended Before It Began: The Pregnancy That Shattered Everything
Read also: I’m Pregnant And Broke — My Cry For Help
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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