Everyone Is Dealing With Something
Some people hide their struggles remarkably well
By J. H. Irwin
Author | Storyteller | Capturing Life, Memory, and Meaning
Yesterday I turned 65 years old.
That number feels strange to write because I do not feel like what I imagined 65 would feel like when I was younger. I certainly do not feel old, and when I look in the mirror, I do not see what I thought a 65-year-old man would look like decades ago. The years have passed quickly, carrying with them successes and failures, joy and heartbreak, friendships and losses, all of which have shaped who I am today. If anything, I find myself in many ways to be the best version of myself I have ever been.
Age has a way of changing your perspective. When we are young, life often appears simpler than it really is. We tend to believe we can look at a person and understand who they are. We see success and assume happiness. We see confidence and assume certainty. We see a beautiful home, a loving family, an impressive career, or a smiling photograph on social media and convince ourselves that we understand the life behind the image.
The older I become, the more I realize how little of a person’s story is actually visible from the outside.
There is a phrase that has become increasingly common in recent years: “Everyone is dealing with something, so be kind.” It is a phrase that appears frequently on social media, often attached to an inspirational image or quote. Most people read it, nod in agreement, and continue scrolling. While I appreciate the sentiment, I sometimes worry that it has become so familiar that it risks being treated as little more than a catchphrase.
For me, it has never been a slogan.
As my readership has grown across Substack, Facebook, LinkedIn, and other platforms, I have had the privilege of connecting with thousands of people. Along with public comments and conversations, I have received private messages from readers who chose to share deeply personal parts of their lives with me. Those messages have revealed a side of humanity that rarely appears in public. People have written about losing spouses, parents, children, siblings, and lifelong friends. They have shared stories of depression, anxiety, devastating medical diagnoses, financial hardship, broken relationships, caregiving responsibilities, loneliness, addiction, and the quiet exhaustion that can come from simply trying to hold everything together while appearing fine to the outside world.
I do not take those conversations lightly. When someone trusts you enough to reveal a vulnerable part of their life, they are offering something precious. While I would never disclose personal details shared in confidence, many of those stories stay with me. They shape my writing, influence my perspective, and remind me that behind every profile picture is a real person carrying burdens that may never be visible to the rest of us.
What has struck me most over the years is not how different these stories are, but how similar they often feel at their core. The details change, the circumstances vary, and the people themselves come from vastly different backgrounds, but the emotions are remarkably universal. Grief feels the same whether someone lives in a mansion or a modest apartment. Fear does not care about educational achievement. Heartbreak pays little attention to income level. Loneliness can exist in a crowded room just as easily as it can in an empty one. The more stories I hear, the more convinced I become that pain is one of the few experiences shared by virtually every human being.
These conversations have reinforced something many of us understand intellectually but often forget in practice: suffering does not discriminate. The beautiful home does not prevent heartbreak. The successful career does not eliminate depression. The advanced degree does not protect someone from anxiety. A loving family does not make a person immune to grief. The smiling face we encounter every day may be hiding a struggle that would bring us to tears if we knew the full story.
One area where I believe society often fails this understanding is in how we view poverty and homelessness. We pass people every day whose lives have taken turns we cannot begin to understand, yet many of us never pause long enough to consider the humanity behind what we are seeing. We notice the person sleeping on a sidewalk, sitting beneath an overpass, or pushing a shopping cart filled with everything they own, and too often our first instinct is to look away. In doing so, we reduce a human life to a circumstance.
What we rarely ask is how they arrived there.
Was it the loss of a job? A medical crisis that consumed every dollar they had? A mental health struggle? Domestic violence? The death of a spouse? Family rejection? A series of setbacks that gradually became impossible to overcome? Sometimes addiction may be part of the story, but addiction itself is often rooted in pain, trauma, despair, or circumstances most of us have been fortunate enough not to experience. Every homeless person has a story, and many of those stories would likely break our hearts if we took the time to hear them.
Too often we view poverty through a lens of judgment rather than understanding. We tell ourselves that people are poor because they are lazy, irresponsible, or unwilling to work. Yet many people living in poverty are working incredibly hard simply to survive. They are juggling multiple jobs, caring for family members, navigating disabilities, struggling with rising housing costs, or trying to recover from setbacks that would overwhelm almost anyone. More often than not, what they need is not criticism but opportunity. They need someone willing to see potential instead of circumstance and to recognize that their current situation is not the sum total of who they are.
The longer I live, the more convinced I become that dignity should never be tied to income, social status, education, or where someone sleeps at night. The homeless man pushing a cart down the street and the executive driving a luxury car share far more in common than either may realize. Both have fears. Both have hopes. Both have experienced disappointment, loss, uncertainty, and pain. One may have more resources than the other, but neither is exempt from the hardships that accompany being human.
Because of the trust readers have placed in me, many of their stories find a quiet reflection in my writing. A piece about grief may contain echoes of several conversations. An article about resilience may be inspired by someone who quietly persevered through circumstances most people never knew existed. A reflection on loneliness may be shaped by messages from readers who simply needed someone to listen. In that sense, the stories people share do not disappear. They become part of a larger effort to remind others that they are not alone in what they are experiencing.
As I reflect on turning 65, I find myself thinking less about aging and more about humanity. The greatest gift of writing has never been publication. It has been the opportunity to connect with people whose lives I might never have otherwise known. Through those connections, I have been given a window into thousands of personal experiences, and every one of them has reinforced the same lesson. Behind every smile is a story. Behind every accomplishment is a struggle. Behind every person is a life far more complex than we can ever fully understand.
That is why the phrase “Everyone is dealing with something, so be kind” resonates so deeply with me. It is not an inspirational quote designed for a greeting card or a social media post. It is a simple truth about the human condition. Every person we encounter is carrying memories, fears, hopes, disappointments, and burdens that are largely invisible to the rest of the world. Some are grieving losses they have not yet learned to live with. Some are fighting battles they rarely discuss. Some are hanging on by a thread while doing everything possible to convince the world they are fine.
The longer I live, the more convinced I become that kindness is one of the most meaningful choices we make. It costs us very little, yet it can have a profound impact on someone else’s day, week, or even life. A patient response, a thoughtful word, a listening ear, or a moment of understanding may not solve another person’s problems, but it can remind them that they do not have to carry those problems entirely alone.
After 65 years of life and countless conversations with people from every imaginable walk of life, I no longer see the phrase “Everyone is dealing with something, so be kind” as a suggestion. I see it as a reminder that every person we encounter is fighting battles we may never fully understand. Recognizing that reality does not solve the world’s problems, but it does make us a little more compassionate, a little less judgmental, and a little more willing to extend grace when it is needed most. In a world where so much remains hidden beneath the surface, that may be one of the most important acts of humanity we can offer one another.
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