Every time I hear someone say, “It’s all happening for you, not to you,” or “Everything happens for a reason,” I wince. Maybe you’ve said these phrases, or had them said to you. Usually well-intentioned, these reassurances become a form of spiritual bypassing where spiritual or positive reframing sidesteps unresolved emotional pain (Welwood, 1984).
Believing suffering has a purpose can help people find meaning and resilience, but timing matters. For someone in deep upset, these platitudes can leave the griever feeling unseen and maybe even foolish for hurting. They push the griever toward resolution in a way that mostly helps the speaker feel more comfortable. They can leave the person on the receiving end feeling guilty and ashamed for not finding the bright side fast enough. These words offer fate instead of presence.
Spiritual bypassing can include phrases that might fit in with what is called “toxic positivity.” Statements like “you’ll feel better soon” or “it could be worse” can feel dismissive to someone who is hurting. Real empathy tolerates not knowing how or when things resolve. Empathy doesn’t require the pain to mean something, and it doesn’t compare or force a positive focus.
What Is Empathy?
Empathy has two components: the cognitive aspect, understanding another’s perspective without losing your own, and the affective aspect, feeling something alongside someone who is struggling (Decety & Jackson, 2004).
Often, we imagine empathy as walking a mile in someone’s shoes. But what if empathy was more about sitting with them in the mud, shoes and all, without trying to clean them off or explain why they got muddy?
Mimamoru: A Japanese Practice of Watchful Restraint
In Japanese, mimamoru means watching over a child without unnecessary interference, trusting their capacity to move through difficulty on their own (Nakatsubo et al., 2021). With mimamoru, teachers and parents resist the urge to direct or fix things for their children. This practice is found in Japanese child care, elder care, and home settings (Bamba & Haight, 2009). Japanese families learn mimamoru through experience and by watching each other do it.
The opposite of mimamoru is lecturing, taking over, or intervening before natural consequences land. Practicing mimamoru means staying watchful and available without offering uninvited guidance. It communicates: I trust you to find your way through, and I’m here.
Western psychology has a related concept called autonomy support, from self-determination theory. With autonomy support, parents offer children choice and reasoning instead of directives, so decisions feel agentic (Ryan & Deci, 2000). Research suggests that autonomy support predicts better emotion regulation in children and preteens (Brenning et al., 2015; Matte-Gagné et al., 2015).
Addiction recovery communities have their own version of mimamoru: detaching with love. In recovery, this means remaining loving while letting someone face the consequences of their choices rather than assuming responsibility or rescuing them.
Autonomy support, mimamoru, and detaching with love all agree that stepping back, without disappearing, is itself a form of love and care. This may be the most difficult part of parenting, or even friendships. It is a practice in patience that requires presence and a willingness to listen without trying to “fix” anything.
A parent practicing mimamoru with a toddler knows the child will eventually tie their own shoes. A struggling friend may not offer the same certainty. But what if we practiced mimamoru there anyway? What if presence, trust, and restraint are the care someone really needs?
What Real Empathy Sounds Like
A dear friend once said to me, “I’m so very sorry for what you’re going through. Whether you’re in the depths of hell, touching the sky, or anywhere in between, I’m here for you. I have faith in you, and I’m eager to hear what you’ll teach us from this.” It was a voice message. Something in her tone lifted me without hyping me up; it was grounding and allowing. She made room for whatever I felt instead of asking me to feel better. I listened to her message 10 times, and later found myself repeating similar words to others.
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Her words invited all my feelings, no matter how messy. The phrase “the depths of hell, touching the sky, or anywhere in between” held the entire spectrum open. She didn’t guess at what I was experiencing; she was willing to stay for it all. Instead of saying, “I’m sorry, and I hope this passes soon,” she said, “I’m here for all of it.”
When she said, “I have faith in you,” I felt more faith in my own capacities. She expressed a vote of confidence rather than pity. She honored my timing and a hopeful future without rushing me toward it. She expressed anticipation for what I’d learn from my grief without implying I should already be there.
My friend didn’t dissolve into my pain, nor did she stand outside it. She stayed grounded and available. In Japanese terms, she mimamoru’d me.
What to Say to Someone Who Is Struggling
Many people ask me how they can help others through difficult times and what to say. When someone you love is grieving, read the words my friend said and try these three things:
- Pause before offering a silver lining. Acknowledge the full range of emotion instead of narrowing it. Saying “I don’t know exactly where you are right now, but I’m here with you for all of it” says more than any reframe.
- Communicate faith, not pity. “I feel so bad for you” focuses on your discomfort, whereas “I have faith in you” honors their strength.
- Offer mimamoru. Watch over your friends and loved ones without intervening, and trust that steadfast, non-interfering presence is healing (Bamba & Haight, 2009).
What if mimamoru, staying steady and patient without pushing for resolution, is what real empathy actually looks like? This doesn’t need a name to be practiced or a position of superiority to be offered. It simply asks us to be in the mud alongside those we care about, and to trust them to walk out in their own time and their own way.
