When I was younger, someone sharing something 'real' with me was an overwhelming experience. I would feel incredibly honoured, because I'd been trusted with a little piece of their inner world. Accompanied by complete panic, because I was often absolutely unequipped to deal with what they were sharing.
If it was something difficult, I might try to make them feel better with general reassurances or by comparing their situation favourably to someone else I knew ('I'm sure it's not that bad!' or 'you'll be okay!' or 'at least it's not as bad as X horrible thing that happened to [insert name of random person I knew].' Or I would launch into a story about a time I'd experienced something similar, and how I'd coped with it and come out the other side.
If they seemed even slightly lost or out of their depth, I would jump straight into 'fix it' mode. Offering advice ('here's what you should do' / 'have you tried' etc), or my presence ('here's what I can do to help fix this!'), even where that was wildly inappropriate or unnecessary - for example, with people I didn't know very well, or with people who were more than capable of finding their own path forward.
Often, I would jump a few steps ahead. Projecting the way I would have reacted in a similar situation and assuming they felt likewise, rather than taking the time to check in on how they were actually feeling about things.
All of this made sense to me at the time - I wanted to make them feel better, as fast as possible, and I assumed that helping them to fix the problem was the best way to do it.
I thought I was doing all the right things - then wondered why my friendships stayed in 'polite' mode. It took me years to realise that I was handling everything completely wrong. It was a deeply humbling thing to recognise.
Why we're so bad at handling other people's vulnerability - and how it affects our friendships
We've all been the person who didn't handle someone else's vulnerability well - whether that's a dramatic revelation, a moment of heartfelt emotion, or even just a small sideways moment where an opinion has been shared that sits somewhat at odds to others in the group.
Most of us have been on the receiving end of this as well.
It's so easy to get wrong - and so important that we don't. Because when someone takes the risk of sharing something honest with us, they're not just passing on information - they're extending a tiny bit of trust. How we handle that trust decides how likely they are to extend more trust to us in the future. Get it right, and we open the door a little wider. Get it wrong, and we push it closed - and may not get another chance.
For a long time, I didn't understand why my efforts to make other people feel better didn't lead to deeper, closer connections. I knew it wasn't because I didn't care - the complete opposite in fact. But in all my efforts to try and care, I was missing the point. I was caring about the wrong thing.
I thought that my job was to make the situation less awkward. That if I could somehow smooth over the difficult feelings, that the person I was talking to would automatically feel better.
It makes sense that I would think this. Most of us were never really taught how to sit with difficult emotions - not even our own, let alone someone else's. When someone we care about is in pain, or scared, or struggling, we feel it. More than that, our nervous systems may even register those emotions as a threat - a problem to be solved immediately, rather than an experience to be witnessed.
Ironically, this effect can be even more pronounced in those of us who are naturally caring - we are emotionally in tune enough to register the depth of the other person's feelings, which means the urge to 'fix' can be even more pressing.
I wanted their discomfort to go away - but looking back, I now recognise that part of my motivation was also about making myself feel better too - alleviating the discomfort I felt at being entrusted with someone else's vulnerability. I was making it about myself, when it should have been about them.
I hadn't stopped to check whether 'fixing' was something they actually wanted. Whether they might prefer to have someone sit with them and witness their experience, rather than trying to make it not exist. Whether I might accidentally be sending the message that I cared more about my own comfort than their pain.
I was getting it all wrong, and actually damaging my relationships as a result, despite my good intentions.
The good news is that responding well to vulnerability in other people is a skill. It can be learned, practised, and can be genuinely transformative when done well. And when you get it right - even imperfectly - it can change everything about how a friendship moves forward.
How To Handle Vulnerability Right In Order To Build Better Friendships
To get this right, we need a different approach. One that acknowledges, holds space, and makes it safe. Here are five things I'd recommend doing if you're someone who has good intentions, but is struggling to get this right.
1. Recognise when your friend is expressing vulnerability
Before we do anything, we need to notice that someone has shared something vulnerable in the first place. This is different for everyone, and learning how to recognise someone else's vulnerability
Vulnerability can show up in a thousand different ways. What's big for one person might not be for the next. It's not always a dramatic reveal. Often, it's much more subtle.
Vulnerability can show up in a thousand different ways. What's big for one person might not be for the next. It's not always a dramatic reveal. Often, it's much more subtle.
It might be a throwaway comment at the end of a conversation - something said quietly, almost as an afterthought, as if they're testing the water before committing to the full plunge. It might be a shift in tone, a slightly longer pause before answering, or an admission dressed up as a joke. Sometimes it's a question that sounds casual but isn't - 'do you ever feel like you don't really belong anywhere?' said with a laugh that doesn't quite reach the eyes.
Vulnerability can also look like disagreement - sharing an opinion that you know sits differently to the people around you. Or it can look like excitement - someone telling you about something they care about deeply, something they've made or hoped for or worked towards. That kind of openness carries its own risk. They're showing you something that matters to them, and waiting to see if you'll treat it carefully.
The common thread in all of these moments is that the person has, in some small way, stepped slightly outside of the safety of the ordinary. They've offered something that could, if handled clumsily, leave them feeling exposed. Your job, before anything else, is simply to notice that.
2. Acknowledge what your friend has said using your body language first.
This might sound strange, but it's really important. 97% of our communication is non-verbal. If we don't communicate that we care using our body language, then our words almost don't matter (if you're not sure what I mean by this, imagine someone saying, 'oh that sounds terrible!' while looking at their phone, tapping their leg or shifting from side to side in their chair - it doesn't suggest that they are particularly interested and engaged, does it?) As soon as you recognise a moment of vulnerability, your entire body language should shift. Ideally, you will slow down, calming any fidgeting. You will angle your body towards them, making it clear that they have your full attention. If what they're saying is serious, be serious. If funny and open, you should have a slight smile on your face. And you should nod slowly as they speak, using a mixture of eye contact and thoughtfully looking down to stay engaged.
It sounds simple, but it's a step many of us forget.
3. Use the 'appreciate, acknowledge, encourage' framework for what to say next.
You'll have to adapt this depending on exactly what's been shared. But broadly speaking, we want to do three things when you do start talking.
Firstly, you'll want to make it clear that you are glad that they told you (appreciate). The 'appreciate' step alleviates the immediate fear that they may have done the wrong thing in telling you. Appreciate statements include things like:
"I'm so glad you told me!"
"Thank you for sharing that with me."
"I'm pleased you told me that."
Secondly, you need to acknowledge what they've said. The most powerful way to do that is to try to imagine how they would have felt when whatever the thing they're sharing happened, or to observe out loud what you're experiencing in them as they're speaking. For example, you could say something like:
"That sounds really hard."
"That must have felt so confusing / painful / isolating."
"I'm so sorry."
"That's so exciting!"
"You seem so sad about that."
Even if you're not exactly on the mark with your reading of the situation, it will mean a lot that you've tried. And might even encourage them to correct you with something that feels more accurate for them, opening up the conversation!
Finally, you'll want to demonstrate that you're listening and engaged if they would like to give you any more information (encourage). The easiest way to do that is to ask a follow up question. This could be something like:
"Can you tell me a bit more about that?"
"How did that make you feel...?"
"Can I ask what happened next?"
"How did they react to that?"
Or even:
"Do you want to tell me any more about what happened?"
Doing all of these things first, before jumping in to advise or fix, doesn't come naturally to everyone, especially if you're wired as a helper. But the most helpful thing you can do in that moment is usually just to be present, and to let the other person know clearly that on an emotional level, you are a safe person to talk to.
In particular, it's really important to avoid the urge to redirect the conversation onto your own similar experiences, at least until you've done all of the above. You don't want the person who has just shared something vulnerable to feel like they have become the sideshow to your main event.
4. Ask your friend what they want from the conversation / from you
Sometimes, advice and / or practical help can be exactly what's needed. Other times, the person speaking just wants to be heard - and simply providing a listening ear is the most helpful thing you could possibly do. If you're not sure what they need, the best thing to do is ask! Asking is really powerful because it hands the person sharing a little bit of control - which in turn makes them feel a bit safer. It's also powerful because it shows that you are genuinely there for them, in whatever form that takes, rather than subtly trying to 'tidy up' the messy feelings they've just shared.
"Are you looking for space to vent, or would you like help thinking through practical options?"
"Would it help to think through options, or do you mainly need to talk it out?"
"I can just listen, or I can share my thoughts. I'll do whatever is most helpful."
"Would you like a hug?"
5. Acknowledge your own feelings
We rush to make things better, we rush to fill silence. We rush to these things because sitting in the weight of someone else's vulnerability can feel genuinely uncomfortable. Taking a few seconds to check in on how YOU are feeling as your friend is sharing will help you to make a choice which is genuinely about supporting your friend, rather than trying to alleviate your own discomfort.
Notice, without judgment, what's happening in you. Are you feeling anxious? Sad? Helpless? Slightly panicked about what to say next? All of that is completely normal - and completely human. The discomfort you feel in those moments is actually a sign that you care. The problem only arises when you let that discomfort make the decisions for you.
When you take a breath and name what you're feeling internally, even just to yourself, it creates just enough distance between the feeling and your response that you can choose what to do next, rather than simply react. That small pause - that half-second of self-awareness - is often the difference between jumping to fix and genuinely showing up.
Final thoughts
If appropriate, you might also want to follow up with them afterwards. One of the most meaningful things you can do when someone has shared something vulnerable is come back to it. Not in a heavy way. Just something like: "How are you doing with that thing you mentioned?" It shows that it mattered, and that you're the kind of person who cares enough to remember.
Learning how to do all of this took me time. I won't pretend that I get it right every time, even now- because I absolutely don't. But what I've noticed, over and over again, is that when I respond well to someone's vulnerability - even imperfectly - something shifts between us. The relationship feels slightly closer, slightly more honest, slightly more relaxed. Sometimes almost imperceptibly so. But it's there. The conversation goes somewhere more real. Not because you have all the answers, but because they feel safe with you. That's the kind of friendship most of us are quietly desperate for - and rarely feel we have enough of.
It starts with getting just a little bit better at that one moment - when someone opens up - and deciding to make the choice to truly show up for it.
