When “It Doesn’t Sound That Bad” Hurts the Most
When we talk about painful experiences, most of us think of the big ones. Things that carry obvious weight: betrayal, abuse, loss, conflict. They’re the kinds of events that, when we name them, people understand. They have a certain gravity that “makes sense.”
But what about the things that don’t sound so serious when we try to put them into words?
It’s those everyday moments that quietly wear us down: the way someone constantly interrupts you, the times you feel dismissed when you speak, or the subtle pressure to always put someone else’s needs before your own. When you describe them out loud, they can sound petty. “They always cut me off when I was talking.” “I felt like I could never relax because there was always another demand.” On the surface, these don’t seem as significant as saying, “They cheated on me,” or “They abandoned me.” And so, we tend to dismiss them, and sometimes others do too.
The problem is, our bodies don’t dismiss them. Our nervous systems register these experiences every single time they happen. That sinking feeling in the stomach, the tightness in your chest, the restless nights—these aren’t small. They’re signs of your body carrying the load of repeated stress and disconnection.
This is what makes the “small things” so complicated: when we try to name them, we often end up gaslighting ourselves. “It doesn’t sound that bad.” “Maybe I’m overreacting.” “I should just get over it.” The truth is, it’s not the size of one event, it’s the accumulation over time. A thousand paper cuts hurt just as much, if not more, than one deep wound.
Psychology sometimes calls this chronic relational stress or micro-traumas. They’re the ongoing, everyday dynamics that erode our sense of safety, autonomy, and self-worth. And because they don’t always sound “serious,” they’re harder to validate, even for ourselves. Yet they are often what leave us the most exhausted and unsure of who we are.
Noticing these patterns is uncomfortable, but it’s also where the opportunity for growth begins. For so long we might normalise being treated in certain ways, even convincing ourselves it’s “just how things are.” Then one day, the weight of it catches up with us, and we start to feel the exhaustion. We begin to see more clearly how much these experiences have cost us, and that awareness changes something inside us.
Digging deeper into these moments can reveal truths we may not have had the language for before: where we’ve lost parts of ourselves, where our boundaries were worn down, and where we’ve been carrying guilt or responsibility that was never ours to carry. As painful as it can be to finally acknowledge these patterns, it also opens the possibility for healing.
Honouring these “small things,” rather than brushing them aside, helps us reclaim our energy and self-respect. It allows us to step into relationships and experiences where our voice matters and our needs are seen. And that is where growth begins—when we finally see that the small things weren’t small at all, and we allow ourselves to grow beyond them.
Reflection
Think back to a time when you felt drained or uneasy in a relationship or situation, but struggled to explain why. What were the “small” things happening repeatedly, and how did they affect your sense of self over time? Write freely about what your body remembers, even if the words feel hard to capture.
