We inhabit a world in which pain often meets, and begets, pain. I grew up in a family and religious background that kept this teaching at the forefront of every lesson, constantly reminding me to be kind. That’s a lot of pressure to put on oneself, but it is not without merit. Reflecting on what I have observed in my students—especially the younger ones—makes me wonder if kindness is something that people even consider anymore.
The Reflection
“If you are cruel to others, you are broken. You are nowhere near a healed or whole human being. If you are kind to others, you may feel broken, but you are more healed and whole than you may know.”
These were the thoughts that danced in my head as I showered this morning. My brain and heart struggled to reconcile those thoughts, and they refused to settle down. I couldn’t figure out why. Later, when I was putting moisturizer on my face and locked eyes with myself in the mirror, it clicked. I could see the concern and worry staring back at me—especially for my younger students, as I wondered how much progress they’d made since I’ve been gone.
I thought, “It’s easy to believe that brokenness can justify cruelty, especially in the climate of our current reality, but that’s an entire delusion.” When people act out of anger, resentment, or bitterness, their actions reveal their state of being. This reflection is a reminder that kindness isn’t just an action—it’s a sign of inner strength and healing, even when we feel far from whole.
I finished getting ready for the day and headed straight to my e-mail and social media messages, as playing catch-up with both is my general first step in my workday routine. That’s when it really began to sink in. What was triggering this train of thought? The incessant barrage of cruelty I see on social media on a daily basis, not from going there to scroll and kill time I don’t really have to waste, but from logging on to “work.” It’s gotten so much worse in recent years.
Thinking about how brave my students had to be to step outside of the environments that had been holding them back helped me to put it into a much broader perspective: kindness demands more courage than cruelty. It’s easy to feel fragile when we choose kindness (to self, and to others) in the face of difficulties. Vulnerability often feels like weakness, but real healing doesn’t mean being unbreakable; it means choosing not to break others. Cruelty is a reflection of brokenness, while kindness, even when life feels heavy, is a reflection of growth and resilience.
Hurt people hurt people.
We often hear the phrase “hurt people hurt people,” and it holds a painful truth. I’ve seen firsthand how those who project kindness on the surface but act cruelly underneath are often caught in their cycle of pain. They’re completely unaware of it, and god forbid you point it out in even the gentlest way, but the signs of their internal reality are clear in their projections.
Their “help” is often wrapped in disguised insults, manipulative remarks, and subtle digs that are more damaging than outright hostility. It’s the backhanded compliment that undermines your confidence, the unsolicited advice that questions your competence, or the persistent reminders of everything they’ve done for you to keep you feeling indebted. It’s offering support in a way that highlights your failures, or framing criticism as concern, so you’re left feeling grateful for their supposed “care” while simultaneously doubting yourself. This kind of “help” plants seeds of insecurity, making you question your worth while they play the role of the benevolent savior.
For a long time, I believed someone like this was helping me. They seemed to be kind and giving, but their form of “help” left me feeling more broken than I had ever been. This person claimed to be a giver, constantly reminding me and others of their contributions to our well-being. They wanted us to believe they were lifting us up, but in reality, their actions revealed a need to bring us down to their level. Perhaps it was a matter of seeking comfort in company—if they couldn’t heal, they wanted to ensure we didn’t either.
Healing isn’t just doing, it’s being.
True healing isn’t about the checklist of things done for others or financial contributions to charities. While these acts can be good, they don’t necessarily indicate a healed soul. Genuine healing goes beyond the tangible; it’s about how we treat others in ways that can’t always be measured. A healed person doesn’t need validation for their kindness or support, and they certainly don’t weaponize it; their actions flow from a deeper, inner wholeness that can’t coexist with cruelty.
In contrast, those who offer kindness while feeling broken show a remarkable capacity for healing and growth. Kindness in such moments isn’t a sign of perfection or the absence of pain—it truly is an act of courage. It’s the choice to respond to our wounds by healing rather than harming.
The takeaway is this: If you are kind to others, even in your brokenness, recognize that it’s not weakness—it’s a sign of inner healing and resilience. It takes courage to choose compassion when life feels heavy, to give what you may not have received, and to show empathy in moments of pain. Cruelty only deepens wounds, perpetuating cycles of hurt and isolation, but kindness—offered despite brokenness—is a quiet, powerful declaration of growth. It shows that even in moments of fragility, you are resisting the temptation to project your pain onto others. You are embracing the difficult but transformative path of healing.
So, even when you feel fractured and unsure, remember that each small act of genuine kindness is a testament to your strength and wholeness, slowly guiding you toward becoming the person you’re meant to be.
The Twin Tree Project 