Why We Need the People Who Matter Most, More Than Ever

Source: iStockphoto/NoonVirachada

The breaking news keeps our eyes locked on people in power and on people in crisis. Their headlines scream, “Leaders Clash in High-Stakes Showdown!” and “Disaster Strikes Yet Again!”

And when we’re not looking their way, our culture has us scanning the room for the people who can help us get ahead — the ones who will help us climb higher, achieve more, build faster.

But in a world shifting faster than ever — leaving us on shaky ground — it turns out these aren’t the people we need most. Who do we need?

It’s easy to overlook them. No one points them out to us. They don’t demand attention. They rarely make headlines. And they certainly don’t stand over a flashing neon sign that says, “Over here! I’m the one you need today.”

And yet, they’re everywhere. Quiet. Steady. Waiting.

These are the people who carry stillness and compassion — the most important people we’ll ever meet, and the people we need now more than ever.

They can be found in places like grief support groups where they stand beside us offering quiet solidarity. They sit in dimly-lit church basements where AA meetings are held, sharing nods and knowing glances that say I understand. They sit beside us in pews of small churches, listening to our stories, making sure we never have to wonder if we’re in this alone.

As for me? I found these people in rooms with carefully placed tissue boxes. That’s where I met still, compassionate therapists who made room for my pain without rushing me past it. They met my struggles not with urgency, not with fixes, but with something that felt, for the first time, like home.

Why do these people matter now more than ever?

Today — perhaps more than ever before — the world is changing fast. And life feels more and more unpredictable.

It’s easy to find ourselves unraveling as we listen to news reports of increasing economic instability, rising trade tensions between nations, growing environmental threats, and unprecedented political uncertainty. It’s no wonder fear and anxiety come knocking more than before. And, too often, we find ourselves swept away by them.

Before we can stop it, we’re pulled under by the riptide of emotions: Fear. Sadness. Anger. Maybe a hint of panic. A touch of terror. It can leave us feeling small and helpless. It can silence whole parts of ourselves (Cole et al., 1994).

But what if, in these moments of unraveling, we were seated next to a still, compassionate person?

What if — as just one example of many— we put ourselves in a therapist’s office on a regular basis, and we allowed the fear, the sadness, and the uncertainty to rise up there?

In the presence of a still, compassionate therapist, we would experience things a little differently. Yes, as we talked about a world that frightened us, part of us would still be pulled away by the power of our emotions.

But another part of us would stay right where we are — in the room with our therapists — anchored in place by the quiet, steady presence of someone who doesn’t look away (Wallin, 2007).

This part of ourselves is our wise self — a part that can hold steady, that can sit with what’s happening without being consumed by it — awakened by the presence and compassion surrounding us (Hayes et al., 2012).

And that changes everything

In presence of our wise self, we find the space to speak — not just about what’s unfolding in the world around us, but also about what’s stirring within us.

That’s when our therapist — without fanfare, without force — does something profound. They put two things side by side in front of us:

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One the one side: the fear, the anxiety, the overwhelming emotions that threaten to overpower us.

And on the other: they point to the warmth, the stillness, and the steady presence in the room — flowing not just from our therapist, but also from our own wise self.

And that’s when our wise self steps in and does something remarkable. It helps us see these emotions differently. It tells us:

Hey, these emotions — fear, sadness, uncertainty? Yes, they’re here, but they don’t have to take over the whole show. We can shine stillness and compassion on them — our therapists’ and our own — we can sit with them, feel them, hold them, all without giving them the keys to the kingdom.

And this allows us to find peace and equanimity in the midst of our most intense emotions (Hayes et al., 2012).

The more we do this — put ourselves in the presence of people who can hold space for us when the world gets the better of us — the easier it becomes for us to hold on to ourselves in the midst of our emotions.

Do this often enough, and we can experience a transformation so deep, it sticks without effort. The moments that used to send us reeling? They no longer have the same grip. The experiences that once shattered us into pieces? They no longer run the show.

So, where do we start?

It’s simple.

We start by finding the people who carry stillness and compassion — the ones our culture ignores, who don’t demand our attention, but who have exactly what we need.

They can lead us toward something profound: A healing that doesn’t erase the anxiety or fear we’re feeling, but allows us to stay with it, hold it with kindness, and experience all of who we are — the dark, the light, the bittersweet beauty of it all.

To find a therapist, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.