When a post hits home, touching someone’s life

WE all know how fast things move online – one tap, one swipe, and suddenly a private moment becomes everyone’s moment.

Most of the time it feels harmless, just another thing to share and move on from.

But sometimes, what we put out there lands on someone’s screen at a much heavier moment than we realise.

That is why it is worth thinking about the stories we amplify, especially when they touch on pain, loss, or struggle.

Certain posts don’t just inform; they influence. They can shape how someone feels about their own battles in ways we may never see.

Lately, there has been more conversation about imitative suicide – how repeated exposure to certain content can make vulnerable people feel pulled toward similar thoughts.

It is a reminder that what circulates on our feeds doesn’t just stay digital; it can echo into real lives in quiet, invisible ways.

Even the smallest things: a random selfie, a quick vent, or even a song, don’t just sit in our feeds – they ripple outward.

Sometimes they come back as a message from someone we haven’t spoken to in ages, or in the way people treat us differently, as if they are seeing something beneath the surface.

Sometimes they return as little gifts: a snack we mentioned loving; a book we posted about; or a doodle someone thought we would like.

Our posts aren’t just scrollable moments. They are tiny connections that return to us in ways that feel surprisingly real.

And sometimes, late at night, when you are scrolling half-tired and half-looking for something that makes you feel less alone, you stumble on a post that sounds uncomfortably familiar; someone describing their feelings in a way that mirrors your own.

Maybe it’s the way they describe the weight in their chest or the loneliness between the lines.

Whatever it is, you feel it.

That is where things get complicated.

When someone else’s story mirrors our own, it can sit with us longer than we expect.

This is especially true with posts about mental heath, particularly suicide.

Psychologists call it ‘imitative’ or ‘copycat’ suicide, not because anyone wants to imitate anything, but because when someone’s pain mirrors ours, their story can seep into our own thoughts.

It usually happens slowly, in emotional steps: first the connection, then the identification, and finally the replaying of their words in our own minds.

The story becomes less like something we saw online and more like something we feel.

Sometimes when I am scrolling and a news report comes up about someone dying by suicide – someone I’ve never met – it hits me in this strangely personal way.

I think a lot of people feel that.

Even when the details are minimal, it lands like a quiet ache.

It reminds us that so many people are hurting under the surface, and that pain doesn’t always look like what we expect.

And for those who are already struggling, even a simple headline can feel too close to home.

That’s why reaching out matters: a tiny check-in, a ‘thinking of you’, and a moment of warmth can interrupt that loneliness in ways we don’t always realise.

But here’s the important part – that moment, when someone else’s story starts to feel like your own, is also the moment when support can shift everything.

A message, a distraction, a conversation, and a reminder that you are here and you matter.

We are human. We absorb things.

And we are allowed to step back, breathe, and care for ourselves when something hits too close.

My column grew out of my fascination with how our minds work and the way we move through life.

We scroll past countless posts every day, and I’ve always hoped that if someone lands on my writing on a tough day, it feels like a small reminder that help, hope, and support are out there.

And all of this, the way posts ripple outward and touch people at unexpected moments, is something I feel every time I read my readers’ emails.

Even though I can’t reply because of a system limitation, I do read every single one.

Your heartfelt stories, especially the ones about mental health, stay with me.

They remind me why I write – so that if someone lands on my words on a hard day, they would feel even a small moment of warmth, hope, and being seen.

It means so much to know the warmth I try to send out finds its way to you: whether you have reached out to tell me, or you have just quietly held onto the message for yourself.

At the end of the day, checking in, speaking up, and showing love really matters.

We never know who might need that little reminder that they are not alone.

Sharing the right messages isn’t a heroic act – it’s simple, human choices that matter.

When we take a second to care, to say what’s true and to spread what’s good, we make the spaces we’re in feel lighter and more real.

That is now we let who we are shine through our work – not by being perfect, but by being present, honest, and kind.

And if we keep doing that, day by day and moment by moment, we don’t just get things done – we make things better, for ourselves and for everyone around us.

* The writer is a psychology graduate who enjoys sharing about how the human mind views the world. For feedback, email to [email protected].