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Being able to accurately “take in” what someone is sharing is critical. For most people don’t require that you agree with them, just that you understand them—both where they’re coming from and how it made them feel. And, for sure, they’d also like you to respond compassionately to whatever they’re disclosing.
Think of it. How many times have you felt misunderstood? And how did this affect you? At the least, you were probably frustrated (and maybe knit your brows). At the most (if you felt free to), you grimaced in outright exasperation—particularly if this was your second, or third, attempt to get something vital across to them.
Sadly, and all too often—and men are especially guilty of this—the person listening to you is, frankly, only half-listening. At the same time they’re hearing your words, they’re thinking about what advice they’ll offer as soon as you pause and give them the opportunity. That is, once they recognize you’re sharing something problematic, they’re apt to shift from listening mode to advice-giving mode, mentally engaged mostly in what they’re anxious to recommend to you. It doesn’t much matter that you haven’t (at least not yet) solicited any advice—if, in fact, you even planned to.
And that’s part of what I mean by another’s “taking on” what you’re confiding in them. Their intention may be to help you, but the effect of their not-requested recommendation is likely to make you feel preempted, commandeered or, well, “taken over.” After all, you never requested they act as your consultant. So their uninvited “intervention” can easily rub you the wrong way. The need to share—undeniably, universal in our species—far outweighs the need to depend on another to be told what to do. Rather, confiding in another some area of distress usually indicates that:
- You need to get something off your chest and you thought the other person wouldn’t mind your ventilating to them. Besides, you may already know what you need to do in the situation: You just need someone to hear you out as you “air” it out (e.g., you recently learned that you’re going to need heart surgery, or your parent has just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, or your child suspended from school, etc.).
- You want to bounce something off them, or use them as a sounding board, in the attempt to get a better handle on something that’s troubling you. Here you’re trying to make better sense of something that just occurred, which you may have been totally unprepared for and are still trying to assimilate. Many times simply articulating what’s bothering you is enough to help you get a better grasp on it.
- You’re feeling isolated or alone on a matter that you must confront, so you’re seeking another’s emotional support. It’s not guidance you’re seeking but understanding, and maybe some sympathy.
True, it’s possible that you may be looking for guidance, too. But if you’re not, it’s probably best to let the other person know—in advance—that, if they’re so willing, you just want to bend their ear a bit. Or that the matter is something you need to resolve on your own, so that (at least for now) volunteering any opinions or suggestions, however well-meaning, won’t be helpful.
Unfortunately, the way most of us humans operate in the world—and again, this tends to be much more reflective of men than women—listening to another’s issues prompts us to offer advice. But the problem with such a “helping” mind-set, is that:
- We’re not exercising the patience necessary to devote our full attention to “taking in” what they’re wanting to share with us.
- In our ego-centered need to introduce our own (superior?) viewpoint on the situation, we’re inclined to tell them what they need to do. And by, in effect, condescending to them, we can end up either irritating them or making them feel disempowered.
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If we emotionally over-identify with them, we may—vicariously—“take on” their problem, and so experience our own anxiety about it. In such instances, we may feel absolutely compelled to alleviate this now “shared” uneasiness by dashing headlong with them (against them?!) into problem-solving mode. And though this knee-jerk reaction might assuage our anxiety or discomfort, it’s hardly likely to reduce that of the person who's taken us into their confidence.
In short, taking on the sharer’s problem as though it were our own isn’t really something we do for them; it’s for ourselves. And this is especially true if their difficulty has unconsciously reminded us of something unpleasant from our past that's never been emotionally resolved—and that, in the moment, is coming alarmingly close to the surface.
Unfortunately, when we respond to another intrusively, we’re not hearing them as they need us to—giving them the space they need to gain greater clarity of their situation. Rather, we’re “presuming” to take on their problem. And in making it our own, and then hastening to find ways of rectifying it, we’re really acting disrespectfully—at the least, we’re not giving the sharer what they’d hoped to receive from us.
One other thing that warrants mentioning here is that in being reminded of our own past experience as it might relate to what’s being shared, we may not be able to resist the temptation to interrupt the speaker and (self-indulgent though it is) steal the ball out of their hands and start running with it ourselves. We may not mean to be rude but, unquestionably, interrupting their narrative to begin our own is hardly the compassionate, interested response they were looking for.
So, to conclude, if someone takes you into their confidence, then—as my title emphasizes—carefully “take in” what they have to say... But also take care not to “take it on.”
(Note: Dogs may not understand your words, but they listen well—and don't interrupt.)
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© 2017 Leon F. Seltzer, Ph.D. All Rights Reserved.
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