The Psychology of Mattering: Why We Need to Feel That We Count
Most of us want to feel connected to other people. We want relationships in which we are known, accepted, and included.
But there is another psychological need that receives far less attention: the need to feel that we matter.
Mattering is the sense that our presence is significant- that other people notice us, care about what happens to us, and believe we make a difference. It is not about being the center of attention or receiving constant praise. It is the quieter, deeper feeling that we count.
We experience mattering when someone checks in because they remembered we had a difficult day ahead. When a friend genuinely wants to hear what we think. When our contribution is acknowledged. When someone notices our absence. Or when we recognize that something we did made another person’s life a little better.
These moments may seem small, but psychologically, they are anything but.
Belonging and mattering are not quite the same
Belonging is the feeling that we are part of a group or relationship. Mattering is the feeling that we are significant within it.
We can belong to a family, workplace, organization, or community and still wonder whether anyone truly sees us. We can be included in the room without feeling that our presence changes anything.
Psychological researchers have described mattering in terms of several related experiences: feeling noticed, feeling important to others, and believing that other people value or rely on what we contribute. More recent perspectives also emphasize both sides of mattering- feeling valued by others and knowing that we can add value to their lives.
Research generally finds a positive association between mattering and well-being. One recent meta-analysis found that the relationship was particularly strong when well-being was understood not only as feeling happy, but as experiencing meaning, personal growth, and a sense of realizing one’s potential.
In other words, mattering may be one of the ways we come to experience our lives as meaningful.
When being needed is part of everyday life
My daughters are only 20 months apart, so when they were young, they needed me in constant and immediate ways. Those early years were joyful and deeply meaningful, but they were also demanding and often exhausting.
Young children rely on us for nearly every aspect of their daily lives- for meals, rides, reassurance, help finding lost shoes, and answers to the questions that somehow arise just as everyone should be going to sleep. Although caring for small children can be all-consuming, it also gives our days a clear sense of purpose. Our importance is reflected back to us constantly- sometimes many times before breakfast!
As children grow, that relationship begins to change.
My daughters are now young adults building lives of their own. They are increasingly independent, as I hoped they would be, but they still look to me for guidance. The questions are different now. Instead of helping with homework or fastening a coat, I may be listening as they think through a decision, navigate an unfamiliar situation, or decide what they believe is right for them.
There is something deeply meaningful about realizing that motherhood does not end when children leave home. It evolves.
I may no longer be involved in the daily details of their lives, but I can still be a steady presence- a person they can call, trust, and turn to for perspective. I am still their mother, but the role now asks for a different kind of wisdom: knowing when to offer guidance, when to ask a thoughtful question, and when to trust them to find their own way.
Parenting young adults has reminded me that mattering does not always disappear when a role changes. Sometimes it becomes quieter, less visible, and more spacious.
When familiar roles begin to change
For many women, a sense of mattering becomes closely connected to the roles they carry.
We may feel needed as we raise children, care for family members, build a career, support a partner, volunteer in our communities, or become the person others depend on to keep everything moving.
I have experienced this through motherhood, but also through my work. As a psychology professor, educator, coach, and community volunteer, I often occupied roles in which my contribution was clear. There were students to teach, people to support, programs to develop, and responsibilities to fulfill.
There is reassurance in knowing exactly where we are needed.
But roles inevitably change. Children grow up. A career ends or evolves. Caregiving responsibilities shift. A family enters a new season. A once-full calendar becomes quieter, or remains full but no longer contains the things that once gave us a strong sense of identity.
These experiences can raise questions we may not say aloud:
Who needs me now?
Where do I fit?
Does what I do still make a difference?
I have asked versions of these questions in my own life. Moving from established professional and parenting roles into a season with more openness has been both exciting and unsettling. Creating Serenta, and becoming a National Board Certified Health and Wellness Coach, has required me to consider not only what I have done in the past, but how I want to use my experience now.
These questions are not signs of selfishness or weakness. They reflect a deeply human desire to know that our lives have meaning and that our presence matters.
Being needed is not the only way to matter
One of the challenges of adulthood is learning to distinguish between being needed and mattering.
Being needed can provide a powerful sense of purpose, but it can also tether our worth to what we do for other people. If our value depends entirely on solving problems, meeting needs, or holding everything together, we may struggle when others become more independent- or when we no longer have the energy or desire to fill the same roles.
Mattering is broader than usefulness.
We can matter because of the care we offer, but also because of the person we are. We can matter through our presence, perspective, creativity, encouragement, attention, and willingness to participate in the world around us.
This is something I am continuing to learn. Starting a new business, returning more intentionally to education, and placing myself in unfamiliar situations have asked me to develop a sense of purpose that is not entirely dependent on old titles.
Even beginning a pottery class has offered a small but meaningful reminder that life can include spaces where I am not the expert, teacher, or person in charge. I can simply be a beginner- curious, imperfect, and engaged in creating something.
There is freedom in discovering that our value is not limited to the roles in which we are most competent or most needed.
Sometimes we make a difference through something significant and visible. More often, we matter in ordinary ways: listening closely, remembering what is important to someone, sharing what we have learned, inviting another person in, or bringing warmth to a place that might otherwise feel impersonal.
A meaningful life is rarely built from one grand contribution. It is usually created through many small moments in which we both experience our own value and affirm the value of others.
How can we strengthen a sense of mattering?
Mattering is partly shaped by our relationships and circumstances, so it cannot always be created through individual effort alone. We all need people and environments that treat us as though we count.
Still, we can become more intentional about building mattering into our lives.
Invest in relationships where you can be fully known
It is possible to be surrounded by people and still feel invisible. We can move through our days fulfilling responsibilities, participating in conversations, and caring for others without feeling that anyone truly sees what is happening beneath the surface.
The relationships that strengthen our sense of mattering are not necessarily the ones in which we know the most people. They are the ones in which we feel safe enough to be honest, curious, uncertain, imperfect, and fully ourselves. In these relationships, we do not have to perform, always appear capable, or be the person who has everything figured out.
I value the people in my own life with whom I can share both what is going well and what still feels uncertain. These are the relationships where I can talk about a new idea, admit that I am struggling, laugh at myself, or simply say, “I’m not sure,” without worrying that I will be judged differently. Being known in this way reminds me that I am valued not only for what I accomplish or provide, but for who I am.
These relationships require intention. They deepen when we make time for meaningful conversation, ask thoughtful questions, listen without rushing to fix, and allow ourselves to be known in return. Vulnerability does not mean sharing everything with everyone. It means choosing relationships in which trust has been earned and gradually allowing more of our authentic selves to be seen.
Consider which relationships in your life make you feel most understood. Who notices when something is different? Who is genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences? With whom can you be both strong and uncertain?
Mattering grows where attention and care are genuine and mutual- where we are not only included, but truly known.
Let people know how they affect you
We often appreciate others without telling them specifically why. We may assume they already know how much they mean to us, or we may feel grateful in the moment and simply forget to put it into words.
I know there are people in my own life whose encouragement, friendship, or belief in me has shaped me in ways they may not fully realize. A thoughtful phone call can make a difficult day feel less lonely. A friend’s confidence in a new idea can help me believe in it myself. Even hearing from one of my daughters that she values my perspective reminds me that, although my role as her mother has changed, my presence in her life still matters.
Expressions of appreciation do not have to be elaborate. Saying, “Your call made me feel less alone,” “I always value your perspective,” or “Your encouragement meant more to me than you probably realized” gives someone clear evidence that their presence makes a difference.
When we take the time to name the effect another person has had on us, we offer more than a compliment. We help that person see the imprint they have left on our life. And in helping others feel that they matter, we often deepen our own sense of gratitude and connection as well.
Find ways to contribute that reflect who you are now
Contribution does not have to mean taking on another major responsibility. It might mean mentoring someone, sharing a skill, supporting a cause, creating something, welcoming a new neighbor, or participating more intentionally in a community.
For me, creating Serenta is one way of bringing together the different chapters of my life- psychology, education, coaching, parenting, community involvement, and my own continuing growth. It is an opportunity to use what I have learned in a new way and to help other women build lives that feel healthier, more meaningful, and more fulfilling.
The most meaningful contribution is not always the largest. Often, it is the one most closely aligned with who we are and what we value now.
Notice where you already make a difference
We tend to overlook the effect we have because we live too close to it.
I may not be packing lunches or managing my daughters’ daily routines anymore, but I can still be a source of encouragement, perspective, and unconditional support. The form of my contribution has changed, but its value has not disappeared.
The same may be true in your life. The traditions you maintain, the questions you ask, the encouragement you offer, and the steadiness you bring may feel ordinary to you while being deeply meaningful to someone else.
Ask yourself:
Where might my presence be making a difference that I have stopped noticing?
Allow yourself to matter apart from what you accomplish
This may be the most difficult practice of all.
You do not have to earn your significance through constant productivity, availability, or sacrifice. Your needs deserve attention. Your ideas deserve space. Your well-being is worthy of care—not only because other people depend on you, but because you are a person whose life has value.
Creating a life in which more people matter
Mattering is not only something we hope to receive. It is also something we can give. We create it when we listen without rushing, notice someone who is often overlooked, express appreciation specifically, invite another person’s perspective, or remind someone that their presence has made a difference.
Perhaps that is one of the most beautiful things about mattering: we do not have to wait until we feel completely certain of our own significance before helping another person experience theirs.
We can begin with a few simple questions:
Who in my life might need to be reminded that they matter?
Where do I need more opportunities to feel seen, valued, and able to contribute?
How might I continue to matter even as my roles change?
Living well involves more than feeling good or accomplishing goals. It includes knowing that we are part of something beyond ourselves—that we are valued, that we have value to offer, and that our presence leaves an imprint.
As my own roles continue to evolve, I am learning that mattering does not belong to one particular stage of life. It does not end when children grow up, a career changes, or an old identity no longer fits in quite the same way.
We all need to feel that we count.
And at every stage of life, we retain the capacity to remind someone else that they count, too.