Like many people who enjoy TV drama series, I’m watching the fourth season of Hulu’s The Bear. The show offers lots of compelling elements: authentic character development, realistic workplace dynamics, and narratives that resonate with broader contemporary social issues.

Besides Carmen (played by Jeremy Allen White), the haute cuisine trained chef who returns home to Chicago to run, and later transform, The Beef, his deceased brother Mikey’s struggling restaurant, into a Michelin star worthy spot, another notable character is Richie.

Not only was Richie (performed by Ebon Moss-Bachrach) Mikey’s employee, but he was his closest friend. He’s navigating a sense of loss, including his divorce, co-parenting his young daughter with his ex-wife and soon-to-be new husband, feelings of being a loser, and a profound sense of displacement in a rapidly changing world.

In many ways, Richie is representative of many working-class men caught between economic marginalization and personal crisis.

The fact is, there are countless individuals whose life trajectories mirror Richie’s struggles. And the common thread isn’t the specific nature of their trauma, whether it stems from childhood abuse, neglect, combat exposure, or economic underachievement or work displacement, but rather their response to unresolved psychological wounds. Whether real or perceived, these wounds can leave lasting, debilitating effects.

What often separates people is not the cause of their trauma or even how they interpret it, but how they deal with it.

Some turn to religion or spiritual practices to cope with the lasting effects of their distress. Others become workaholics, or throw themselves into their careers, hoping that professional achievement will provide validation and perhaps distract them from their pain. Still others cope by drinking heavily or using drugs to temporarily numb the pain or confusion; strategies that may sustain them for years but inevitably compound their underlying problems.

The consequences of these coping strategies are predictable. They include depression, deteriorating work performance, missed deadlines, social isolation, and forgotten important events. They may also have repeated contact with the criminal justice system through arrests for drunk driving, domestic violence, or other manifestations of poor anger management.

Meanwhile, as the saying goes, “the body keeps the score.” These unaddressed psychological wounds manifest in physical health problems, creating a cascading series of complications that, over time, become increasingly difficult to manage.

During my work with currently or formerly incarcerated people, the more empathetic staff often observed that many inmates were simply individuals who had exhausted their coping mechanisms. The phrase, “There but for the grace of God go I,” reflected an understanding that with enough stress, trauma, and insufficient support, any of us could find ourselves in similar circumstances.

What distinguishes The Bear from other workplace dramas is its nuanced portrayal of how trauma affects different individuals within the same environment. While Carmen participates in grief counseling, specifically a support group for those who have lost loved ones to suicide, other characters like Richie (short of journaling and reading philosophy) appear to be managing their emotional difficulties without professional intervention.

This reflects a broader pattern in American society where mental health resources are underutilized, particularly among working-class men, who may view seeking this type of help as a weakness or who lack access to affordable treatment options.

It’s important to recognize that maladaptive responses to unresolved anger and unaddressed trauma are not character flaws. The difference between those who recover and those who remain trapped in destructive patterns often comes down to access to appropriate intervention and support systems.

The Bear doesn’t offer simplistic solutions for people struggling with trauma and related issues, but it does show that many damaged individuals can begin to heal through authentic human connections and being honest about themselves and others. The show’s strength here lies in its recognition that recovery is not a linear process and that meaningful change requires both individual effort and a network of support (e.g., co-workers and selected family members).

Richie’s character serves as a reminder that behind every person struggling with anger, addiction, or antisocial behavior lies a human being dealing with pain they may not fully understand. Rather than dismissing such individuals as hopeless cases, we might consider how our communities can better support those who are fighting battles that aren’t immediately visible.

The lesson here extends beyond fictional portrayals of the inner workings of struggling restaurants and their employees. In our daily lives, we encounter people whose behavior reflects their underlying struggles with trauma and loss. Responding with empathy rather than judgment, and an understanding that professional help is both available and necessary, may be the difference between someone finding a path forward or remaining trapped in destructive patterns.