What to Say (and What Not to Say) When Someone You Love Isn't Okay

If you're reading this because tonight is the night — call or text 988. The Trevor Project is at 1-866-488-7386 if you're LGBTQ+ and want someone who gets it. The rest of this post can wait.

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Nobody teaches us this. We get years of school and not one lesson on what to do when someone we love sits down across from us and says, or almost says, I'm not okay.

So we improvise. And because we're scared and we love them, most of what we improvise is some version of trying to make it stop — the discomfort, the sadness, the conversation itself. I've been the improviser. I've also been the person across the table. I'm not a therapist; I'm someone with a lot of hours on both sides of this conversation, and September is Suicide Prevention Month, so let me pass along what those hours taught me.

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First, the hard one: you're allowed to ask directly

The biggest myth in this whole territory is that asking someone about suicide might put the idea in their head. The research says otherwise: asking directly doesn't plant the thought — it relieves the pressure of carrying it alone. "Are you thinking about suicide?" is a terrifying sentence to say and a life-changing one to hear, because it means someone finally made the thing speakable. Say the actual word. Euphemisms tell them the topic is too scary to name; the direct question tells them you can handle the answer.

You don't need clinical language. You need to be brave for about eight seconds. And if the answer is yes, you don't have to assess the danger alone. Stay with them and help connect them with support — you can call or text 988 together, or contact 988 yourself for guidance about someone you love. If they're in immediate danger, get emergency help. Together is the operative word.

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What not to say (the greatest hits)

These phrases come from love. They land like doors closing. I've said several of them myself, which is how I know.

"At least…" — Any sentence that starts this way is a comparison, and comparison tells a hurting person their pain hasn't qualified. There's no "at least" that helps.

"Everything happens for a reason." — Maybe you believe that. Say it to yourself, later, privately. To someone in pain it sounds like their suffering was scheduled.

"Have you tried…?" — Yoga, gratitude journaling, going outside, cutting out sugar. Maybe they have. Maybe they haven't. Right now, that's probably not what they're asking you for. Unsolicited fixes tell someone you'd like their sadness to be a logistics problem, because logistics problems are less scary than sitting with them.

"Other people have it worse." — True, irrelevant, and devastating. Pain isn't a contest, and losing the contest doesn't make it hurt less.

"You don't seem depressed." — The highest-functioning people you know are often working the hardest. Seeming fine is a skill, and it's exhausting.

"Let me know if you need anything." — This one's gentle, so it's sneaky. It hands the job of asking for help to the person least equipped to do it right now. Almost no one ever "lets you know."

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What to say instead

The pattern in everything that follows: don't try to end the feeling. Try to keep them company inside it.

"Thank you for telling me." — Their disclosure cost them something. Acknowledge that.

"That sounds so heavy. I'm glad I know now." — Reflect the weight without weighing in.

"You don't have to be okay with me." — This is the entire brand I run, in one sentence. Permission to stop performing is a gift almost nobody gives.

"I don't know what to say — but I'm staying." — Honesty about your own helplessness, plus presence. This beats eloquence every single time. You are not required to be wise. You're required to be there.

"Can I sit with you / bring you dinner Thursday / drive you to the appointment?" — Specific offers instead of open ones. "Let me know if you need anything" becomes "I'm dropping soup off Thursday, no need to even open the door." Take the asking out of it.

And then — this is the step almost everyone skips — check on them again next week. The first conversation tells someone you care. The follow-up tells them they weren't a burden the first time. That second message, the casual "thinking about you, no need to reply," does more than the first one ever did.

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If it's heavier than a conversation

If someone tells you they're thinking about ending their life, you don't carry that alone either. 988 is for the people around the struggling person too — you can call or text and say "someone I love said something that scared me and I don't know what to do," and a trained human will help you figure out the next step. Save the number tonight, while everything is calm. The whole point of awareness month is knowing the number before the night it's needed.

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The quiet truth underneath all of it

Every hard conversation I've been on the receiving end of, the words mattered less than I expected and the staying mattered more. The people who helped me weren't the ones with the perfect sentence. They were the ones who didn't flinch, didn't fix, and were still there the following Tuesday.

You can be that for someone. You probably already are for someone who hasn't told you yet.

Tomorrow needs them. Sometimes you're the one who gets to say so.

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More for this month: the story behind Tomorrow Needs You · the free resources hub — printables, a daily check-in, calm things, no email required. And on September 8 (988 Day), 100% of profits from every order go straight to the 988 Lifeline.