In our hyper-connected world, it is all too easy to forget a fundamental truth: behind every username, every profile picture, and every fleeting interaction (online or offline) there is a real human being with a complex, often unseen story.
We judge quickly. We assume motives. We react with frustration or anger when someone does not meet our expectations. But what if we paused, just for a moment, to consider that we might not know the full picture?
A story shared by one of my former teachers has stayed with me for years, serving as a powerful reminder of this very lesson.
It happened on a crowded city bus in Toronto. A man boarded with his three young children. The kids were bursting with energy: loud, restless, climbing over seats, laughing, and making every imaginable noise. Passengers shifted uncomfortably, and my teacher, feeling the irritation build, finally snapped.
“Can you control your kids?”
The father did not argue. He did not raise his voice. Instead, he quietly sat down next to my teacher and said something that stopped him cold:
“I’m sorry about them. Their mother just died, and I haven’t told them yet. I wanted to give them a little more time to be happy before I tell them she’s gone.”
In an instant, frustration turned to profound humility and shame. My teacher realised he had lashed out at a man who was carrying an unimaginable weight, quietly protecting his children from heartbreak for just a few more moments.
This simple encounter on a bus became a turning point. It illustrated a truth we often overlook: everyone is fighting battles we know nothing about. The rude stranger might be grieving. The distracted coworker could be facing illness. The argumentative commenter online might be lonely or in pain.
We never truly know someone’s story.
That is why compassion should be our default. Not because everyone deserves a free pass for poor behaviour, but because a moment of understanding can change everything, for them and for us.
Next time you feel the urge to judge, snap, or dismiss someone, remember the father on the bus. Pause. Breathe. Choose kindness.
You might just make someone’s hidden battle a little easier to bear, and in doing so, lighten your own.