You Don’t Have to Be a Therapist to Support Someone Grieving
Grief can make reading hard. Want to listen to this article instead? Find its corresponding podcast episode here.
When someone we care about is grieving—a friend, a family member, a coworker, a neighbor—one of our first instincts is to reach out and offer them support. But one of the thoughts that can prevent us from taking action is, “I’m not a therapist. Who am I to help?”
Many supporters of grievers worry that they’re not qualified enough to talk about loss. Or they worry that they’ll say the wrong thing and somehow traumatize the person they’re trying to comfort. (Then their grieving friend will really need a therapist!)
So many of us retreat from offering support. Not because we’re coldhearted or uncaring. But because of insecurity.
But here’s the truth: You do not need a license to support someone through loss.
You can be a source of comfort to someone who’s grieving—a reliable, compassionate supporter—without any letters behind your name.
Let’s talk about why—and how—that’s possible.
You’re Not Crazy for Doubting Yourself. It’s Called “Comforter Imposter Syndrome.”
Many of us consider ourselves good friends, helpful family members, or capable coworkers. We cheer on our loved ones when they achieve successes, follow through on our commitments to them, and show up for their major milestones—like birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, weddings, and the arrival of new babies.
But when it comes our loved ones going through “the hard stuff”—things like loss, death, breakup, or life-changing health diagnoses—we sometimes doubt our ability to be good friends. It can feel like a sort of poorly timed identity crisis: wondering if you’re a good friend at a moment when the life of someone you care about is falling apart.
In my book Of Course I'm Here Right Now, I write:
“You may be familiar with the psychological concept of imposter syndrome: the idea or feeling that you’re a fraud, not skilled enough, not qualified enough, or not good enough despite clear evidence of success or competence. If you find yourself asking, ‘Who am I to comfort this person?’ then you may in fact have a sort of comforter imposter syndrome.”
This hits at the heart of what might keep you from showing up: the belief that you’re not enough or you don’t have enough information to support someone you care about when shit hits the fan. And you’re not crazy for feeling this way. We live in a society that teaches us much more about how to celebrate someone’s gains than it does about how to be beside them in their losses.
But if you’ve ever been comforted in a hard season of life by a warm hug, a late-night text, or someone simply witnessing your tears without trying to fix them—you know that credentials are not the measuring stick of comfort. Sure, having a textbook knowledge of grief can be helpful in situations like these, but anyone who’s ever experienced loss will tell you that knowing about grief is not the same as having kind, supportive words to say to someone grieving.
Most Grievers Don’t Need a Therapist. They Need a Human Who Cares.
I’ve been working with grieving people since 2016, and here’s something wild I’ve learned: many grievers don’t get their deepest comfort from therapists, clergy, or grief experts.
As I wrote in my book:
“Many grieving people I speak to recall feeling judged and analyzed by their therapists or religious leaders—people we generally perceive to be ‘good’ at comfort—while receiving dizzying amounts of warmhearted care from family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, and perfect strangers.”
The takeaway? Grief is not a clinical experience that can only be processed in the four walls of a therapist’s office or on the couch of a spiritual guide; it’s a human one that belongs in every single one of our interactions. And more often than not, what grievers need is someone who can sit beside them as they sort through the pieces of their life after loss.
If you’re struggling to see yourself as a worthwhile comforter in your griever’s life, consider asking yourself:
When in the past have I received support from someone who was not a therapist? How did they help me?
How have I offered support or kind words to someone in need?
What examples of human kindness have I observed in movies, TV, or music—or on social media?
While you’re absolutely welcome to include therapists, clergy, and grief experts in your answers to these questions, consider who else in your life has played a role in helping you feel seen and supported. These questions are great starting points for expanding your idea of what makes a comforter a comforter.
For instance, grievers I work with inside Life After Loss Academy have named friends, coworkers, relatives, adult children, neighbors, and even ex-partners as supporters in their grief. And not one of these people has a formal certification in helping others through grief and loss! That’s food for thought indeed.
Grief Support Doesn’t Require a Degree in Psychology—It Requires Presence and Compassion
When it comes to supporting someone grieving, your presence and your words are the medicine. You don’t have to know all the “clinical speak” of what they’re going through. You don’t need to schedule a standing weekly appointment to discuss their loss. You don’t need to know every detail of what your griever is thinking or feeling. And you definitely don’t need to make their pain go away.
Comfort isn’t about curing. It’s about companionship.
Your grieving friend, coworker, or loved one isn’t looking for show up with solutions. They’re looking for someone to witness them. Someone who doesn’t flinch when things get real. Someone who stays.
Just like you don’t need to solve a birthday, anniversary, graduation, wedding, or baby shower, you don’t need to solve a grief event. Your presence and your kind words are all that’s required of you.
Comfort Is Not a Magical Talent Reserved for Other, More Qualified People
Sometimes, especially when we know (or assume) a grieving person has lots of friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, or healthcare providers, it’s easy to make the task of comforting them “someone else’s problem.” We imagine that, because our griever is surrounded by support, that they must be getting help in a relationship other than ours.
We think:
“Her doctor knows her better than I do. She’s probably getting help from her.”
“They’ve already got a therapist. So their emotional needs are covered.”
“He’s got his wife to talk to about ‘feelings stuff,’ so I don’t need to say anything.”
“She has a great relationship with her rabbi. I can’t offer that kind of support so I won’t.”
But this kind of “emotional outsourcing,” does more harm than good, often replicating the bystander effect, where the more people are nearby to help, the less people actually step up to do so, assuming that, because so many people are available, “someone else will do it.”
Dozens and dozens of grievers I’ve worked with have reported that they had lots of friends and family before their loss. But after their loss, people either reached out once and then never again or failed to reach out to begin with. While I can’t speak for all of these grievers’ friends and family, it’s easy to see how they might think their grieving loved one has all the support they need—so perhaps the task of comforting them belongs to someone other than them.
In Of Course I’m Here Right Now, I wrote:
“Implying that comforting is the job of the few educated to do so—such as therapists and chaplains—only narrows the field of support, handing off the sacred work of taking care of the broken hearts among us ‘someone else’s job’ instead of a reflection of who we are as a species.”
The moment we act like grief support is a job for experts or close friends and family only, we dehumanize the entire experience of offering care. We also perpetuate the myth that there’s no space for ordinary, beautiful acts of compassion from everyday people like us.
To be clear: You are not “just” a friend. You are not “just” a coworker. You are someone who can have a significant positive impact on the heart of the grieving person in your midst.
In fact, your griever may bring their heartbreak to you precisely because you’re not qualified by some higher power—whether institutional or spiritual!
Sometimes, grieving people don’t want to be seen through the eyes of the healthcare system or their religious teachings; they want to be seen through the eyes of a friend—someone who knows their history and their values. That person could be you!
Also: You Don’t Have to Be a “Feelings Person” to Be a Comforter
As a grief coach, a lot of what I hear when supporters say, “I’m not a therapist, so I’m not qualified to help,” is: “I don’t ‘do feelings’ for my job, so I’m not an expert.”
But grief is so much more than just feelings. You do not need to be a therapist, a highly sensitive person, or a “natural caretaker” to support someone who’s grieving.
You don’t have to be naturally tenderhearted. You don’t have to cry easily. You don’t even have to understand grief fully to show up.
Here’s another powerful quote from my book:
“Just as it is wrong to suggest that only those who’ve been trained to comfort should do so, it is also inappropriate to regard comforting as the work of those blessed with high sensitivity or great amounts of emotional bandwidth.”
In other words, comfort isn’t about emotions alone. It’s about emotions and:
Validation and affirmation
(i.e. “Of course this is super confusing. Medical paperwork is hard!”)Showing up over and over, especially on grief milestones
(i.e. “I know it’s Deb’s birthday. I haven’t forgotten the fact that you’re grieving her, even though you have to go into work today. Thinking of you.”)Holding hope when your griever can’t see a way out
(i.e. “I know things feel hard right now. One day they may not feel so hard, but today they do and that’s okay.”)Granting permission for feelings to appear
(i.e. “It’s okay to be mad or sad when we’re together. Your feelings make sense to me.”)
These “and” skills—validation, affirmation, consistency, hope-holding, and permission-granting—are not the exclusive domain of “feelings people”; they’re tools you can companion the griever in your life with too.
Which skill do you think you could apply in your relationship with a grieving person this week?
Closing Thoughts: You Are Not Underqualified for This
If someone you love is grieving, please hear this:
You don’t need to fix their pain to be an impactful source of support.
You don’t need to be a therapist to help them feel seen and safe.
You don’t need to be a “feelings person” to have a conversation about their life after loss.
While there’s no such thing as a perfect comforter, there is such a thing as a good enough one. And when we each do our best to be good enough comforters—ones who show up, try, care, and listen for feedback—we create a world where everybody around a grieving person pitches in a little bit. One where no one has to feel alone or abandoned in their loss.
You, in your good enough-ness, can be that kind of comforter to your grieving loved one.
Want More Tips for Supporting Someone Grieving?
This blog article is part of a series on supporting the grieving people in your life—without overthinking it, freezing up, or defaulting to “Sorry for your loss,” or “Let me know if you need anything.”
If you loved this topic, you’ll love my book, Of Course I’m Here Right Now, available wherever you buy books.
It’s a pocket guide filled with easy scripts for comforting a grieving person, so you stop feeling afraid of saying the wrong thing and enter each conversation equipped with language that relays your presence, support, and love—no therapist degree required!
