hurt people hurt people.

the unseen burdens people carry can affect others.

It’s a phrase I’ve heard over and over again. At first, it can sound like a cliché, but it speaks to a cycle many of us have either witnessed or been part of. Humanity runs in patterns, and when you’re in a place to finally recognize them, it hits differently.

It might be an older sibling who snaps at you for screwing up, but they really just had the worst week of their life. Or a coworker who shuts down everyone’s ideas because they grew up feeling unheard. Or maybe it’s your partner, suddenly distant, and you don’t know why, but for them, even getting through the day feels like a mental hurdle. Or if you’re like me, maybe you’ve developed an edge when your mental health was spiraling.

We like to think pain is temporary, that it fades with time. But it doesn’t always disappear. Sometimes, it leaks into how we speak, how we act, how we treat people. A piece of paper might be folded, but the creases don’t go away. And just like negativity spreads like wildfire, so does the harm we never meant to cause. Hurtful behavior can stem from various sources, including fear, frustration, shame, and defeat. We try to hold it in. We build walls. But eventually, it slips out, even when we don’t want it to.

Some of my lowest moments involved me snapping at people I genuinely cared about. There was someone I truly cared about, and I still wonder if things might have been different if I hadn’t let my attitude get in the way. It’s not that I think I was a terrible person. I just didn’t know how to handle what I was carrying. I was constantly irritated, even toward people who didn’t deserve it.

That frustration always turned inward. Why am I acting like this toward someone who’s actually here for me? It made me question everything, including whether I deserved to continue existing. But talking about it sometimes made me feel dramatic or self-centered, as if I were making excuses for behavior I already knew was wrong.

I often think about all this, especially when I see people online being harsh or when I catch myself reacting unfairly. It’s easy to label someone as rude or bitter. But most of the time, they’re carrying something heavy we’ll never see. And honestly, it’s not always our place to know.

Still, there’s a reason certain reactions feel familiar. They often come from a place of needing something, whether that’s safety, control, or even just to be understood. It’s easier to lash out than to admit we’re in pain. It’s easier to harden than to risk being vulnerable. But when we do that, we keep the chain going.

This cycle of pain doesn’t just show up on an individual level. It’s woven into culture, history, and systems. Generational trauma, inequality, and historical harm have shaped the lives of many communities, especially those who have faced enslavement, displacement, and systematic mistreatment for centuries.

While that’s not something my family lineage experienced directly, it’s still very real and affects the world we live in. When a group has spent generations simply trying to survive in systems built against them, the pain doesn’t just vanish. And even with the best intentions, that hurt can be passed down.

We see it in racism, discrimination, media, and policy, often rooted in fear and pain that were never acknowledged or healed. That doesn’t excuse harmful behavior, but it does remind us that everyone’s carrying something. Everyone is fighting a battle we might not see.

Pain isn’t an excuse for mistreatment. Boundaries matter. And it’s okay to walk away from people who hurt you. But maybe when we witness someone acting out, we can pause and ask, “Why?” Perhaps we can show a little more patience, whether it’s toward others or ourselves.

Breaking the cycle isn’t easy, especially when the pain feels familiar. But it’s possible. It takes self-awareness. It takes compassion. And it takes effort. Healing often begins with recognizing your patterns, even if you’re not yet in a position to change them. Sometimes, we need to sit with the feeling instead of letting it spill onto someone else. Responding differently, even once, can make more of an impact than you’d think.

Hurt people hurt people. But healed people can help heal people, too.