There are certain phrases that just stick with you. They drop into a conversation or a movie and perfectly articulate a universal truth we could never quite pin down.

One of my favorites comes, surprisingly, from the seemingly simple world of Mary Poppins (or maybe George Orwell, depending on who you ask, but for me, it’s all about the chimney sweeps and the floating nanny). The line goes something like this: “Sometimes people we love, of no fault of their own, can’t see past the tip of their own nose.”

It’s an old, beautiful piece of British wisdom that cuts right to the heart of the human condition.

The Tunnel of Self

What does it truly mean to not see past the tip of your own nose? It’s not about selfishness in the malicious sense. It’s about tunnel vision…an intense, consuming focus on the immediate struggles of your own life, so tight that the light of everything and everyone else simply cannot get in.

And right now, many of us are deep in some kind of tunnel. We are juggling new jobs, enduring long periods of unemployment, waiting on pivotal interviews, or, in the case of those closest to us, navigating truly heavy life transitions, kids, or battles with chronic stress.

Their struggles are real. Their burdens are heavy. Their focus is completely justified.

But here is the inevitable, often painful byproduct of that tunnel vision: The Empathy Deficit.

Support Is Not a One-Way Street

When someone we love is consumed by their own critical issues, their capacity for compassion and reciprocal support often shrinks to zero. They need all of their energy to keep their head above water, and they have nothing left to give back.

• You share a small worry? They relate it back to their large problem.
• You need a moment of emotional venting? They immediately pivot the conversation to their own current crisis.
• You ask for a small favor? It’s treated like a massive imposition.

It’s painful because you know they are good people. You know they are hurting. But you start to feel invisible. Your problems, big or small, are minimized, and your role is reduced to that of the unwavering supporter, the permanent shoulder to cry on.

And that’s where the boundary has to be drawn.

The Role of Your Loved Ones is Not to Be Your Therapist

A relationship…whether with a romantic partner, a family member, or a close friend…is a shared journey, not a hierarchy of suffering.

Being a friend, sibling, or partner means offering your compassion, your ear, and your support. It means showing up. But it does not mean:

1. Becoming their sole emotional caregiver. That’s the job of a licensed professional.
2. Sacrificing your own well-being and voice because their situation seems “bigger.”
3. Giving up the expectation of reciprocal kindness.

We all have days, weeks, and even months where we can’t see past our own nose. The goal isn’t to be perfect, but to be aware. The people we love aren’t asking for elaborate solutions or immediate fixes to their problems; they are just asking you to occasionally lift your head, acknowledge their presence, and remind yourself that the world—and the relationship—exists outside your immediate pain.

A Gentle Tug on the Tunnels

So, if you’re the one feeling unseen right now, please know that your struggles are valid, regardless of how large your loved one’s issues might seem. Your needs are real.

And if you are the one currently struggling to see past the end of your nose, I urge you, gently: Take one moment today. Lift your eyes. Look at the people in your life who are showing up for you. Acknowledge their effort. Give them one moment of your full, compassionate attention.

That small act of looking outward is what turns a taxing burden into a shared life, and it’s the only way to eventually find the light at the end of the tunnel, together.