There have been times in all of our lives when we need help. We need to pick the brain of someone more experienced or see a situation from an outside perspective. When we are lost or confused, we often react by reaching out and asking those we trust for help. That's a wonderful thing. Here's the trouble...
Just as often as we need help, we also need those we love to "not help." How many times have you had an extremely frustrating day and called your mom, best friend, boyfriend, brother, wife, daughter etc.? And in those moments, when you feel shitty or tired or angry or sad, do you really want the person on the other end of the phone to start spewing advice, to give a lecture, or to be completely logical? I know I sure don't. I want that person to listen, not talk. I want that person to assure me that everything is going to be alright. I want them to tell me I'm justified in feeling the way I am feeling. More often than I'd like to admit, I simply want them to say, "I'm so sorry you had a bad day. I love you."
This doesn't mean that those giving advice are in the wrong. Obviously, when our friends or family are in distress, our natural instinct is to try to fix the problem for them. We want to jump in and do something or, at the very least, arm them with something so they can tackle the problem in the future. In that venture, though, we often unintentionally highlight their insecurities.
Let me give you an example of a situation that I have found myself in several times. A friend is complaining about her boyfriend to me. This boy has said something that really hurt my friend. This instantly makes me protective and angry. So I tell my friend, "You can't let him treat you like that. You need to stand up for yourself and tell him how you feel." In my head, this is a caring comment that shows I'm on her side. Right? But, now, not only is she upset about the treatment from her boyfriend; she's also insecure about her own actions. She might be thinking, "Am I letting people walk all over me?" or "Does Roxie think I'm weak?" This may cause her to shut down and not tell me the next time something happens because she doesn't want me to judge her. This may cause her to get defensive with me to defend herself. Either way, this well-meaning advice has compounded her problem.
Instead, I should have listened and asked questions to show I was engaged in her feelings. I should have reflected those feelings back with responses like "I'm so sorry he made you feel that way" or "I can understand why you would be angry."
A friend recently told me, "No one should ever tell you how you 'should feel' about something. Everyone has the right to feel in their own way." That seems like solid, obvious advice, but after he said it, I remember thinking of all the times I have been told "You should be happy that..." or "It's not the end of the world." People, while trying to calm me down or make me feel better, were dismissing my anxiety as something trivial, when I was seeking validation for emotions that were very upsetting to me.
All of this is not to say we should never give advice. Recently, though, I have made a goal for myself to listen to cues to understand if the people in my life are seeking advice or support. Phrases like "What do you think?" or "Do you think I should..." or "I'm not sure what to do" are all big, flashing signs that you definitely should offer some suggestions. In those moments, just saying "I believe in you" are not remotely helpful. But, if someone is venting or just telling me how they feel about a situation, I try not to interject.
Your emotions are legitimate. I'm listening.
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