When life becomes overwhelming, many of us instinctively pull back. We cancel plans, retreat into our own heads, and try to endure quietly. Yet research and lived experience suggest something counterintuitive: reaching outward—toward other people—is often what restores us. Feeling that we matter to others, and knowing that others matter to us, gives life texture, meaning, and resilience, especially in difficult times.
In her recent book Mattering: The Secret to a Life of Deep Connection and Purpose, journalist Jennifer Breheny Wallace argues that modern society is facing a “social health crisis.” While we are more connected technologically than ever, many people feel unseen, unneeded, and replaceable. The result is a rise in loneliness, burnout, anxiety, and a gnawing sense that our lives don’t make much difference. At the heart of this crisis, Wallace suggests, is a widespread erosion of mattering.
What Does It Mean to Matter?
Mattering is not about fame, applause, or constant validation. At its core, it is the deeply human need to feel valued for who we are and to know that our presence and actions make a positive difference. It has two parts: being valued, and adding value. We need both. Feeling appreciated without being useful can feel hollow, while being useful without feeling appreciated leads to exhaustion.
This need spans all stages of life. Young people who feel purposeless may struggle with anxiety or despair. Older adults, especially after retirement or major life changes, can feel untethered when roles that once gave them meaning disappear. When people don’t feel that they matter, the consequences often show up as depression, anger, disengagement, or self-destructive coping behaviors.
The hopeful message, however, is that mattering is not fixed. It is not something you either have or don’t have. It is dynamic—and actionable.
When Mattering Turns Into Burnout
Interestingly, Wallace also highlights a lesser-discussed problem: mattering too much. Caregivers, teachers, parents, and people in helping professions are often deeply relied upon. While this reliance can provide a sense of purpose, it becomes draining when it is not balanced by care, recognition, or permission to rest.
When someone is constantly needed but rarely prioritized, burnout follows. The antidote begins with learning to matter to yourself. This doesn’t mean indulgence or retreating from responsibility. It means recognizing that your needs are legitimate and worth tending to—daily, not only after everything else is done.
One simple practice Wallace describes is asking, early in the day, “What is one small need I must meet today so I can show up as my best self?” It might be a quiet cup of coffee, a short walk, or time to read. These small acts reinforce the idea that your well-being is not an afterthought.
Equally important is allowing others to support you. Many people who “matter too much” struggle to ask for help. Yet asking for help is not a burden—it is a gift. It allows someone else to feel trusted, relied upon, and meaningful. Mattering, after all, is reciprocal.
The Power of Nourishing Relationships
No amount of productivity hacks or solo self-care can replace the protective power of deep relationships. What sustains us are not dozens of casual connections, but a handful of people with whom we can be honest and vulnerable.
Research shows that these relationships don’t require huge amounts of time. Even one hour a week of intentional, meaningful connection can make a difference. What matters is reciprocity—the ability to share openly and to listen in return.
In busy adult lives, friendships often thin out under the pressure of work and family. But creating structure can help. A regular walk, a monthly discussion group, or a standing coffee date can act as scaffolding for deeper connection. These small rituals create spaces where mattering can grow.
Choosing to Be the One Who Reaches Out
In recent years, especially after the pandemic, canceling plans and staying home has become normalized. Wallace suggests a simple but powerful personal rule: don’t cancel unless you’re truly sick. Consistency builds trust. Being the person who shows up—even when it’s inconvenient—signals to others that they matter.
If invitations aren’t reciprocated right away, don’t give up. Invitations are bridges between the life you have and the life you want. Extending them requires social courage, but it is often how meaningful communities begin.
Mattering Through Life’s Transitions
Major life transitions—retirement, relocation, an empty nest—can shake our sense of identity and worth. Roles that once affirmed our value may fall away, leaving us unsure of where we fit.
The first step is recognizing that this disorientation is normal. Everyone goes through periods when their sense of mattering is unsettled. Seeking out role models—people who have navigated similar changes—can help. Sometimes that support comes through conversations; other times through books, podcasts, or shared stories that remind us we are not alone.
Importantly, our sense of mattering is never “finished.” It evolves as our lives do.
Mattering at Work and in Everyday Spaces
Workplaces are a major arena where mattering—or the lack of it—shows up. When employees feel invisible or easily replaceable, disengagement follows. This disengagement is not laziness; it is self-protection.
Small human-centered actions can make a difference: greeting colleagues by name, acknowledging effort, connecting people to the impact of their work. These gestures cost little but yield significant returns in engagement, creativity, and trust.
Beyond work and home, “third spaces”—cafés, gyms, libraries, local shops—also play a quiet but vital role. They are places where we are known casually, where our absence is noticed. Even brief interactions with baristas, neighbors, or shopkeepers can reinforce the sense that we belong to the fabric of everyday life.
Better for Others, Not Better Than Others
There is a natural tension between wanting to achieve and wanting to be accepted as we are. Mattering offers a way to hold both. Achievement becomes healthier when it is oriented outward—not toward superiority, but toward contribution. As one Jesuit motto puts it: not better than others, but better for others.
Perhaps the most empowering idea in Wallace’s work is this: if you are feeling like you don’t matter, you are often just one small action away from restoring that feeling. A message of appreciation, an offer of help, a moment of genuine recognition—even toward a stranger—can reconnect you to your own significance.
In a world where so many people are silently asking, “Do I matter?”, answering that question—through warmth, attention, and care—may be one of the most meaningful things we can do.