When Being A Good Listener Backfires
You’ve heard iterations of the same thing for most of your life. You’re such a good listener. For some reason I feel like I can open up to you.
Your friends call you first when they have a problem. Your co-workers turn to you to resolve their conflicts. Being the “strong one” in your family, they lean on you to discuss sibling rivalry, challenges with their children, conflict with their spouses- nothing is off the table.
Complete strangers share deeply personal things after you strike up a conversation in the produce section at the grocery store. Uber drivers, waitresses, the lady sitting next to you on the train- they all feel comfortable confiding in you.
You validate them, you nod in understanding, you smile when they need reassurance, and you don’t judge. Best of all, you always provide potential solutions.
They often laugh and say, “Why get a therapist when I have you?” And maybe you used to think it was funny and even flattering, but now you’re tired of dealing with everyone’s issues, annoyed that they never take your advice and hurt that nobody ever checks in to see how you’re doing.
You’re burnt out, and you consider blocking every single person on your phone. You want to tell your partner to get their own therapist, and you want to tell your adult kids to grow up and stop leaning on you to fix their problems. I’m done trying to help everyone, you think.
But instead of telling people how you feel, you ignore calls and texts for a few days, something that brings temporary relief and peace. But then the frustration subsides, and you feel guilty, so you answer the phone calls, you respond to the texts, and you listen to the strangers because you just can’t help it.
Why do you listen anyway?
Maybe you are genuinely curious about people, and listening helps you better understand human behavior including your own; the “why” behind people’s choices. Maybe you have a heartfelt desire to make the world a better place, and making space for others is an easy way to make a difference.
It could be that you were taught by the people raising you that you’re responsible for how other people feel, that you must always put their emotions/needs first and do everything you can to make them feel better, especially when they confide in you.
Another reason could be that you have your own issues to resolve, and you avoid these issues and all of the emotions attached by losing yourself in the challenges people bring to you. This pattern of avoidance is very common. By always putting yourself in the role of listener, you avoid your own emotional distress.
Lastly, maybe you love identifying and solving problems because it makes you feel good; it gives you a sense of purpose and utility. And so when someone comes to you in distress, you listen intently, ask all the right questions to identify the issue and then immediately offer solutions.
But what leads to burn out has nothing to do with your ability to listen. Burn out happens when you believe that your role is to make other people feel better, when you believe that solving problems for others makes you an epic human.
It happens when you realize that no matter how well you listen or how good your advice, people ultimately do what they think is best, a fact that frustrates you and makes you feel like you wasted your time.
In short, the reason why being a good listener backfires has nothing to do with others and everything to do with you.
Listen and trust.
As therapists, many of us come into this field because we want to help others. Our training emphasizes the importance of listening without making judgments and assumptions, of withholding our opinions. This active, supportive and empathic listening fosters the deep trust necessary for a strong therapeutic bond.
Our strict Code of Ethics guides and informs our therapeutic relationships. Nowhere in this code of ethics does it state that our responsibility is to resolve our client’s challenges; stepping in to “fix it” is considered disrespectful because it violates our client’s right to self-determination.
Instead, we endeavor to help them see what they need to see for themselves, and we encourage them to evolve at their own pace, not ours. We refrain from offering solutions because we trust they already have the answers.
I knew literally none of this before I entered the field. I thought that my job was to listen, give suggestions and/or advice, and essentially make other people feel better.
To say that I have been humbled would be massively understating it. Listening to others express their sadness, fear or hurt triggered in me a great deal of discomfort and anxiety because I just wanted to fix it, to make it go away and quick. With practice and expert supervision, I learned to embrace this discomfort and see it for what it was: an opportunity for growth. And this growth helped me truly grasp the importance of allowing others to experience their own distress.
Today, whether I am teaching Pastoral Care and Counseling to permanent deacons in the Catholic Church, basic skills in clinical social work to graduate students at Boston College, or communication skills to parents eager to support their teenage children, the message is the same. Listen, and trust them to figure it out.
What you can do.
Isolating yourself from others when you’re burnt out is a reaction, not a solution. It may buy you some peace in the short term, but it is not sustainable in the long term.
But you don’t need to shut people out; you just need to change what you perceive to be your role, and this is a process. Below are some ways you can develop a new way of showing up in relationships and interactions.
Develop awareness. Do you automatically slip into “problem-solver” mode? Do you get annoyed when someone takes up your time and then ignores your advice? Do you hold resentment and anger toward others for never checking in with you? Identify, accept and forgive all the ways you’ve played a part in creating this dynamic.
Be a feeler, not a fixer. Empathy trumps solutions. Empathizing with what someone is feeling is more helpful than offering a solution. “I’ve never been in your exact situation, but I do know what it’s like to feel sadness.” Encouraging them to look at the bright side or to focus on the positive helps never. Just let it be, and share the emotion.
Offer perspective, not solutions. Sometimes people just want to know what you think, and that’s not criminal. Offer your perspective and clarify that it’s based on your own experiences, and that in the end, only they know what is best. “Offering” implies the person has choice in the matter and prevents you from developing any kind of expectation with the outcome.
Embrace your discomfort. If you’ve gotten used to being the “fixer”, you’re going to feel uncomfortable changing your approach, and maybe a little guilty. When I say embrace this discomfort, I mean wrap your arms around it, give it a huge kiss and thank it for giving you a chance to grow. This discomfort is your deliverance.
