For over a decade now, I’ve volunteered on a helpline, doing crisis communications. I've talked with people on some of the toughest days of their lives and had to find words fast, with no script, no do-over.
And yet, I still sometimes freeze when I hear from a friend who's in a tough situation.
This is the thing I’ve slowly figured out on my own:
Knowing how communication works doesn't mean the words show up on command.
Not for me, not for anyone. The freeze isn't a personal failure! It's just what happens when the stakes feel high and the right words feel out of reach.
So let's talk about what actually helps:
You Don't Need the Right Words. You Need Honesty.
Somewhere along the way we got taught that offering comforting words means the words need to be perfect. That if you can't say something wise or eloquent, better not say anything at all.
That's so backwards!
The most honest thing you can send someone is the truth of what you’re grappling with:
"I don't know what to say, but I want you to know I'm thinking about you."
Or: "I wish I had the right words. I'm here, and I care about you."
Naming the difficulty isn't a cop-out. It's the most real thing in the message. A polished line can read like a performance, it lacks the rawness and feeling that comes with “imperfect” words.
When you say, "I don't know what to say," that actually sounds like a real person.
This is exactly why I made the F-Word Cloud card. Sometimes the most honest thing you can hand someone is a visual admission that words are hard right now — no eloquence required, just presence.
A few ways to acknowledge the moment without trying to fix it:
-
"This sounds incredibly hard."
-
"You have every reason to feel overwhelmed."
-
"I'm sorry you're going through this."
None of that requires you to have answers. It just requires you to be present. A card or a text can hold space without demanding a reply — and closing with something low-pressure, like “you don't need to write back, just know that I'm here,” takes the weight off both of you.
What to Say in Different Situations
Grief.
Oof, grief is one of the hardest things, because it doesn’t have a nice, tidy end point. One of the most important things you can do when acknowledging grief is to say the name of the person who has passed. Skip trying to explain the loss — there isn’t an explanation, and reaching for one usually makes it worse. Offer one honest memory instead: "I remember how much they never met a taco they didn't love. I'm thinking of you and your family."
If you want the card to help you with words you can’t quite find, Not By Yourself and Not in a Day says the truest thing about grief: it takes time, and it takes company.
I’ve got more examples on what to write in a sympathy card in this blog post.
Illness or medical stuff.
This isn't the moment for promises you can't keep. Skip "you'll be fine" or the overused “get well soon” and go for companionship and something concrete: "I'm thinking of you before your appointment. I’ll bring dinner or do dog walks this week."
This is a Shit Time works when you need to acknowledge that the situation is bad without pretending otherwise. I'm Sorry You're Going Through This Shit works when you want the sympathy to land more directly. For a longer term recovery that might call for a funny message, the We’re Rooting For You card is always a hit.
Breakups, job loss, family conflict.
I don’t know about you, but I want to fight for my people in these situations, which... isn’t always the most helpful approach. 😅 But, good news: you can validate without picking a side or trashing someone they might still love.
You can say something like, "You don't have to figure everything out today. I'm here to listen whenever you want to talk." Some situations just need someone to confirm they're actually bad — that's the whole job of the Well Shit card.
When you're the one who caused the harm.
Name what you did. Apologize without an excuse tucked inside it. Don't ask them to comfort you through your own guilt. "I'm sorry for what I said. It hurt you, and I understand why you need space. I want to make things right when you're ready."
Here are more examples of how to apologize without sounding like a jerk.
And across all of it — ask before you advise. Some people want to be heard. Some want practical help. Very few want unsolicited "here's what you should do" tips. If they haven't asked for advice, leave it out.
Turning a Generic Message Into a Real One
Here's a simple structure, not a script, for when you need help finding the words:
-
Acknowledge what happened.
-
Say what the person means to you.
-
Offer one specific form of support.
-
End without pressure.
Notice that word: specific. "Let me know if you need anything" is kind, and it's also a dead end — it puts all the effort back on the person who's already depleted. "I can pick up groceries Thursday or call after work" gives them something they can actually accept without having to make the ask themselves.
The same goes for platitudes. "Everything happens for a reason" tries to make the pain make sense, but falls so flat, and actually feels like you’re dismissing what’s happening. "I don't have an explanation, but I care about you" tells the truth and reminds them you're there.
If you're not sure the person wants contact, send one respectful message and leave the choice with them. "No need to respond. I'll give you space, and I'll be thinking of you." Then don't check in five more times looking for reassurance that you did it right. That's not helping them.
A follow-up matters more than people think. Everyone shows up in the first week. Almost nobody shows up in week three, when the Meal Train has stopped, but the person is still in the thick of things. A simple “How has this week been for you?” two weeks later can mean so much.
The Real Problem Isn't That You Don't Know What to Say
It's that you were never taught how to say it.
Nobody sits you down and teaches you the language for hard conversations. You're expected to just know it, and then you freeze, and then you either send something generic or you send nothing, and neither one feels right.
That gap — between wanting to show up and not having the words — is the whole reason I make cards. Not because a card fixes anything. But because sometimes having language handed to you, in a moment when your own words won't come, is exactly the support you need to send something real instead of nothing at all.
If this is where you land more often than you'd like, that's not a flaw. You’re just figuring out this is a skill nobody taught you. And – good news! – it's a skill you can build, one honest, specific, unpolished message at a time.
Sometimes the truest starting point is just It's Okay to Not be Okay — and if you want more language for the moments you don't have words for, the full Encouragement Collection is built for exactly that.
Queen Fayzel makes cards for when you can't find the right words. 💌 Honest, funny, and real. Handmade in Seattle, WA.
