Me Too

By virtue of whatever circumstances I must have grown under, I happen to be a very discreet and subconsciously secretive person most times. Not in an obvious way, I have very cunning ways of dodging conversations that dig too deep into my personal life snd most particularly, emotions.

Recently, I have deliberately been trying to be more open, especially with my close ones and all that.

So this particular day, this person comes for a visit and we get talking. As usual, I did all the listening and advising and nodding and she turned to me and went “Muhsinah, what of you? And please, I don't want to hear ‘Oh, Alhamdulillah,things are going just fine’. “

I sighed in resignation partially because she looked like she was really ready to listen and mostly because I was trying to train myself to open up more. So I told her I was struggling, that I was confused and tired and all in my head making up what ifs. That's all I said. And then I caught myself and added that “Oh ,of course,thats’s life. i’ll be fine”.

Just that simple admission that things have been hard lately, that I've been carrying everything well on the outside but exploding on the inside and I needed to say it out loud to someone who might understand. Even though I added the last phrase to give a cue that she doesn't need to motivate me or advice me because don't I always figure it out anyways?

On her own volition,she pressed for more and gullible me started talking while making jokes with my own woes in between so we wouldn't be awkward but guess what? Before I could even finish explaining what I was going through, she cut me off.

"Me too. Actually, what you're describing? I went through something way worse last year. Let me tell you about it."

And just like that, my struggle became a segue into hers. My pain became a prompt for her story. My vulnerability became an audition she had to outperform. It was no longer a self inflicted therapy session,it was now a battle of whose tale was more pitiful.

I've factually lost count of how many times this has happened. How many times I've tried to open up to someone, mostly on their own instigation, only to have them immediately redirect the conversation to their own suffering. "Me too, girl. But mine was even worse." "Me too, but let me tell you the twist though." "Me too, and here's why my version was more painful."

It's like there's a competition I didn't know I entered. A suffering Olympics where sharing your pain is just the opening act before someone else takes the stage to perform their greater tragedy.

I get it. I really do. When someone shares something difficult, the instinct is to relate. To find a common ground. To say "I understand because I've been there too." And sometimes that's genuinely helpful. Sometimes knowing you're not alone in your pain is exactly what you need.

But there's a difference between "I've experienced something similar and I'm here with you" and "Let me tell you about MY experience and make this about ME."

There's a difference between empathy and competition.

Last month I mentioned to a friend that I was exhausted. Just genuinely, bone-deep tired from juggling school and everything else. And she immediately launched into a monologue about how she's been getting only three hours of sleep, how she has so much more on her plate than I do, how if I think I'm tired, I should see her schedule.

I wasn't asking for a comparison. I wasn't claiming to be the most tired person in the world. I was just saying I'm tired. That's it. But somehow my exhaustion became a challenge she had to beat.

Another time, I was talking about feeling anxious about an exam. Before I could even finish the sentence, someone jumped in with "You think THAT'S bad? Wait till you hear about ny school timetable,at least you people in state schools get to chill sometimes. I literally didn't sleep for days. I thought I was going to die."

And suddenly we're not talking about my anxiety anymore. We're talking about theirs. My feelings have been bumped off stage to make room for their bigger, more dramatic, more worthy-of-attention feelings.

And trust me, It's exhausting. Sometimes ,it just numbs me out. This constant one-upmanship of suffering. This need to prove that your pain is more valid, more real, more deserving of sympathy than anyone else's.

Someone says they're going through a breakup and immediately someone else chimes in about their worse breakup. Someone mentions they're having family issues and someone else has to tell them about their more dysfunctional family. Someone admits they're struggling financially and someone else needs everyone to know they have it harder.

Why? Why exactly do we do this? Why can't we just let people have their pain without immediately measuring it against our ownbor somebody else’s?

I think it's mostly because we've confused empathy with relatability. We think the only way to show we understand is to share our own similar experience. We think saying "me too" automatically makes us supportive, helpful, connected. Or because they've shared their story, it's now our turn to share ours.

But sometimes "me too" is just another way of saying "enough about you, let's talk about me."

Sometimes what a person needs isn't to hear that you've been through worse. Sometimes they just need to be heard. To have their feelings acknowledged. To exist in their struggle without someone immediately trying to top it.

Here's the highlight: pain isn't a competition. Suffering isn't a ranking system. Just because someone else has it worse doesn't make your struggle invalid. Just because someone's been through something similar doesn't mean your experience needs to be compared to theirs.

Your grief is grief. Your exhaustion is exhaustion. Your anxiety is anxiety. It doesn't need to be the worst version of these things to be real and valid and worthy of being acknowledged.

But we live in a world where everything is comparative. Where we're so obsessed with who has it worse that we've forgotten how to just sit with someone in their pain without trying to redirect attention to our own.

I remember one time I was telling my friend about a particularly difficult day,a whole lot happened that even the memories of that day still tires me out. And when I finished, they just said, "That sounds really hard. I'm sorry you're going through that. You should probably give yourself a break" That's it. No "me too but worse." No pivot to their own struggles. Just the acknowledgment. Just the presence.

And it was the most comforting response I'd ever received. Because for once, someone let my pain be mine. They didn't try to compete with it or minimize it or use it as a launching pad for their own story. They just held the space for it.

That's what we need more of. Not comparison. Not competition. Just that space. Space for people to feel what they're feeling without immediately having to defend why their pain is painful enough to matter.

Because the truth is, when someone shares something difficult with you, they're not asking you to rate their suffering on a scale of 1 to 10. They're not conducting a survey to see whose life is harder. They're just asking to be seen. To be heard. To have their experience validated. They're just sharing a piece of them with you.

And when you respond with "me too, but worse," what you're really saying is: "Your pain isn't really all that. Let me show you what real suffering looks like."

Even if that's not what you mean. Even if you think you're being relatable or helpful or empathetic. What lands is comparison. What lands is competition. What lands is the message that their struggle doesn't quite measure up.

I'm tired of it. Tired of feeling like I have to justify my pain. Tired of having conversations where I'm vulnerable and open up only to have someone immediately make it about themselves. Tired of the constant measuring and comparing and ranking of who's suffering more. So tired of it that I no longer bother sharing my struggles because twenty minutes of yapping it off means having to listen to your version for three hours and watching you weigh thr details side by side despite my visible exhaustion.

If I'm everything red flag in a relation,what I know is I'll never be the friend who invalidates the other person's experiences or the friend who makes every experience about me. I love that when someone tells me they're struggling, I'm programmed to just listen. To not immediately search my own experience for something comparable. To not feel the need to share my own story unless they specifically ask for it.

To just say: "That sounds really difficult,my dear. I'm here if you need me. We can always figure things out after this hug"

No "me too." No "but have you tried." No "well, when I went through something similar."

Just presence. Just acknowledgment. Just the gift of letting someone's pain be theirs without trying to claim it or compare it or make it about me.

And folks out there need to understand that that's what real empathy looks like. Not finding yourself in someone else's story, but giving them the space to tell their story without interruption.

Not "me too." Just "I see you. And what you're feeling matters."

That's all most people need. Not your bigger suffering. Not your advice too most times. Not your similar story.

Just to be heard. Just to matter. Just to have their pain acknowledged without immediately being told about someone else's.

Is that really so hard?