A while ago, a friend I care about was telling me about a problem they had. I listened, and somewhere along the way, I did what I usually do when someone brings me a problem: I started trying to solve it.
I asked a few questions, suggested a couple of things they could do, shared what worked for me in a similar situation, pointed out something they might not have considered, and started laying out what I thought their next steps should be. I thought I was being helpful. Sharing my ideas and experience seemed to me exactly what a good friend should do.
Eventually, they stopped me and said, “I don’t need you to fix this. I just need you to listen.”
It caught me a little off guard. I was just trying to help. At least that’s what I told myself. But the more I thought about the conversation afterward, the more I understood the difference.
I’ve been doing this for most of my life. Someone tells me they’re having trouble at work, and I suggest how they should handle their boss. A friend is struggling with a relationship, and I explain what they should say. When someone shares a problem, I assume the natural response is to help solve it.
But sometimes solving the problem isn’t the reason they came to me to talk. There wasn’t anything for me to solve; they weren’t handing me a puzzle and asking for an answer. They were trying to make sense of something by saying it out loud to another person. What they were looking for wasn’t an answer; they were looking for a witness.
That distinction sounds simple, but I don’t think it is, particularly for those of us who pride ourselves on being problem solvers. Sitting across from someone who’s hurting, frustrated, or confused and simply allowing them to feel that way is surprisingly uncomfortable. We want to move them forward. Advice makes us feel useful.
I’ve started wondering if the impulse to fix the problem is as generous as I’ve believed it to be. When someone I care about is struggling, their discomfort makes me uncomfortable. If I can solve the problem, I don’t have to sit in that discomfort with them. Looking back at that conversation, I wonder how much of my advice was actually for them and how much of it was for me, a way to move us both out of a feeling I didn’t want to sit in.
I’m trying to get better at recognizing the difference now. Sometimes that means asking a simple question before I say anything else: “Do you want my thoughts, or do you just want me to listen?” It feels almost unnatural to someone wired to solve problems. But I’m learning that listening isn’t doing nothing.
There will always be moments when people genuinely want our advice, and when they do, we should give them the best advice we can. But there are other moments when the most useful thing we can offer isn’t our experience or our solution. It’s our attention.
“Rarely can a response make something better. What makes something better is connection.”– Brené Brown
We don’t always need someone to show us the way out. Sometimes we just need someone willing to sit with us while we’re there.
Have a great weekend.
-Vijay