Projection in moments of change: The compassion we often forget

Change moments often brings with it a mirror, not just for the person in the midst of it, but for all of us watching from the sidelines.

Recently, I shared a post on social media about Gary Lineker, UK Sports TV presenter, stepping away from his long-held role on Match of the Day, title ‘What will Gary do next?’. It was half goodbye to Gary but also about change, and saying goodbye. It was a reflection on change, because, well, that’s what I do for a living. It was a reminder that how change comes for all of us, regardless of status, wealth, or public image and how we navigate those moments, internally and externally.

But what struck were the reactions: “He brought it on himself,” “He’ll be fine, he’s got enough money,” “Can’t say I care what he does next.”

And it was a reminder that we often project and judge in moments of change for others. It’s not unusual to hear things like above. In work people say things like ‘well, I’m alright, I don’t know what they are miserable about’ ‘They’ve got nothing to be worrying about’.

These kind of sentiments reveal something deeper about how we, as a society, respond to change, especially when it’s not happening to us. The lack of understanding that we are all different, no matter who we think others are, we have no idea what someone else is going through.

In moments of change, particularly for others, we can lose our compassion. We minimise. We compare. We project. “Well, I lost my job and survived, so I’m sure they’ll be fine.” It’s a defense mechanism, in part, a way to protect ourselves from feeling the vulnerability of uncertainty. But it’s also a missed opportunity for growth.

None of us truly know what someone else is going through, especially in times of change, loss, transition. No matter how public their persona, or how privileged their life may seem, pain and confusion don’t discriminate. And no one, no matter how accomplished, wealthy, or well-known, is immune to the discomfort and disruption of change.

So what if, instead of rushing to judge or dismiss, we chose to hold space?

Holding space means allowing someone to feel what they feel, without our need to fix, comment, or project. It means recognising that someone else’s experience is theirs, not ours to compare or critique. It means remembering that the most compassionate thing we can offer is presence.

When we react with our perspective or even quiet judgment, we’re not just shutting down empathy for others, we’re limiting it for ourselves. Because if we condition our compassion on circumstances (“I only feel sorry for people who are really struggling”), we also start to invalidate our own experiences. “I shouldn’t feel bad, others have it worse.” It becomes a loop that diminishes everyone.

Moments of change are not just about endings, they’re also invitations. Invitations to learn, to reflect, to be better at being human. They offer us a chance to practise humility, to accept that we don’t always know the full story, and to extend kindness anyway.

And yes, it’s easy to say “It’s alright for them” especially when someone seems to have resources, opportunities, or support we may not feel we have ourselves. But that response often says more about our own relationship with change than theirs. It’s a reflection of how we’ve coped, what we’ve endured, and whether we’ve truly processed our own transitions.

So next time we see someone facing a shift, whether it's a public figure or a colleague or a friend, maybe we should check we arent projecting, or trying to ‘fix’. Maybe we can pause. Maybe we can say nothing at all, and simply offer space.

Because compassion isn’t about who “deserves” it. It’s about choosing to stay human, even, and especially, when it would be easier not to.