Are You Listening to Understand or Listening to Fix?

Why the urge to help can sometimes get in the way of truly hearing someone

Someone you care about tells you they're overwhelmed.

Perhaps work has become too much.

Their relationship is struggling.

They're unhappy with a decision they've made.

They don't know whether to stay, leave, change direction or simply keep going.

And while they're still talking, something begins happening in your mind.

You're looking for the answer.

Maybe they need to speak to their manager.

They should set a boundary.

Perhaps they need a break.

I know exactly what I'd do.

There's a book I could recommend.

I went through something similar. I should tell them what helped me.

You haven't stopped caring about what they're saying.

Quite the opposite.

You're searching for a solution because you care.

You want them to feel better.

You want to help.

You don't want someone you love, support or work with to remain stuck in something painful when you can see a possible way through.

It is a deeply human response.

But while we're searching for the answer, we can sometimes stop hearing the person.

Instead of listening to understand what their experience is actually like, we begin listening for the problem we can solve.

And those are not quite the same thing.

The question:

“Am I listening to understand, or am I listening to fix?”

can change the quality of an entire conversation.

This matters in our personal relationships.

It matters with partners, friends, colleagues, teenagers and adult children.

And for people working in counselling, coaching, meditation teaching, community services and other helping professions, it becomes an important professional skill.

Because sometimes the most useful thing we can offer another person isn't an answer.

It's enough space for them to hear themselves.

Why We Rush to Fix

Most people don't rush towards solutions because they don't care enough.

Often, we do it because we care deeply.

Someone we love is hurting and we want the hurt to stop.

A client feels stuck and we want them to move forward.

A friend is overwhelmed and we want to make things easier.

A family member is making a decision and we can see what appears to be an obvious solution.

So we help.

We suggest.

We reassure.

We explain.

We tell them what worked for us.

Sometimes this is exactly what the person needs.

If someone asks:

“What would you do?”

or:

“Can you help me work out my options?”

then practical conversation may be entirely appropriate.

There are also situations involving safety, significant risk or professional responsibility where simply sitting and listening isn't enough. Action, referral or additional support may be necessary.

Listening to understand doesn't mean becoming passive.

It doesn't mean withholding useful information.

And it certainly doesn't mean never offering advice.

The difficulty comes when fixing becomes automatic.

Sometimes Fixing Makes Us Feel Better Too

There is another reason we may rush towards solutions, and it can be harder to recognise.

Another person's distress can be uncomfortable for us.

Someone starts crying.

We say:

“Don't cry.”

Someone tells us they're frightened.

We say:

“I'm sure everything will be okay.”

Someone describes a painful situation.

We immediately start explaining what they should do next.

These responses are usually intended to comfort.

But sometimes, underneath them, there is also our own wish for the uncomfortable moment to end.

We want the tears to stop.

We want reassurance to work.

We want to know there is something we can do.

We want to move the conversation from pain towards resolution because resolution feels safer than uncertainty.

This doesn't make us uncaring.

It makes us human.

But it gives us something important to notice.

When you feel yourself rushing towards an answer, it can be worth quietly asking:

“Am I trying to relieve their discomfort, or am I trying to relieve my discomfort with their discomfort?”

Sometimes it will be both.

The point isn't to criticise ourselves for having the impulse.

The point is to recognise it before it starts directing the conversation.

Because if we cannot tolerate another person's discomfort for even a few moments, we may begin trying to change their experience before we've understood it.

Advice Can Arrive Before Understanding

Imagine telling someone:

“I'm really struggling at work. I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

And immediately hearing:

“You need to find another job.”

Perhaps leaving really is an option.

But maybe the person isn't ready to leave.

Maybe they love their profession but are struggling with one particular aspect of their workplace.

Perhaps they're worried about money.

Perhaps they've already applied for other positions.

Perhaps they're exhausted rather than certain they want a career change.

Perhaps they aren't asking you what to do at all.

They may simply be trying to say:

“This is really hard.”

Advice offered too quickly can accidentally skip over the experience the person was trying to share.

The solution may even be sensible.

The timing may simply be wrong.

And sometimes advice can carry an unintended message:

This feeling needs to be fixed.

We need to get you out of this discomfort.

Here's what you should do.

I know what would be best.

For someone who already feels unheard, that can make them withdraw further.

They may stop explaining.

Agree politely.

Change the subject.

Or begin defending why the suggested solution isn't possible.

Suddenly, instead of exploring what they're experiencing, the conversation becomes a discussion about why they haven't done what we've recommended.

Listening to Understand and Listening to Fix Can Look Surprisingly Similar

From the outside, these two ways of listening don't always look dramatically different.

Both can involve eye contact.

Both can involve questions.

Both can involve empathy.

Both can come from genuine care.

The difference is often happening inside the listener.

When we're listening to fix, part of our attention is searching for the solution.

We're listening for the part we can respond to.

We may be thinking:

What should they do?

What can I suggest?

What would I do in that situation?

What resource could I give them?

How can I make this better?

Listening to understand begins somewhere different.

Instead of immediately asking:

“How can I solve this?”

we become curious about:

“What is this actually like for them?”

What happened?

What matters most to them?

What are they feeling?

What have they already tried?

What are they afraid of?

What does this situation mean to them?

And perhaps most importantly:

What do they need from this conversation?

We don't need to know exactly how someone feels in order to listen well.

In fact, assuming we already understand can sometimes prevent us from discovering that their experience is quite different from what we imagined.

Rather than:

“I know exactly how you feel.”

we might say:

“That sounds like it's been really difficult. What's been the hardest part for you?”

One response assumes.

The other invites.

That small difference leaves the person as the expert in their own experience.

Are You Listening, or Waiting for Your Turn to Speak?

There is another form of listening that most of us recognise once we begin paying attention to it.

Someone is speaking.

We're looking at them.

We're nodding.

We're following the conversation.

But inside our head, we're already composing our response.

Perhaps they've reminded us of something that happened to us.

We're waiting to tell the story.

Perhaps they've said something we disagree with.

We're preparing our argument.

Perhaps they've asked a question.

We're working out how to give the best answer.

Or perhaps we're simply worried there will be an awkward silence when they stop talking, so we're making sure we have something ready.

Technically, we're listening.

But only part of our attention is still with the other person.

The rest has moved ahead.

This happens easily because conversation usually involves taking turns. We expect that eventually it will be our turn to speak.

But meaningful listening sometimes requires us to stop preparing for our turn.

To let the person finish.

And then, rather than immediately delivering the response we've been constructing, allow ourselves a moment to consider what we've actually heard.

There may even be a few seconds of silence.

That's okay.

We don't have to demonstrate that we were listening by responding instantly.

Sometimes a pause communicates something valuable in itself:

I'm still here.

I'm thinking about what you said.

You don't need to rush.

There is room for this conversation.

And sometimes, when we don't immediately fill that space, the person begins speaking again.

What comes next may be the thing they were actually trying to say.

Advice Isn't Always What Someone Is Asking For

There are certain phrases that appear quickly when someone tells us they're struggling.

“Have you tried...?”

“You should...”

“Why don't you...?”

“If I were you...”

“At least...”

Again, these phrases aren't inherently wrong.

Sometimes a person genuinely wants ideas.

Sometimes we have information that could be useful.

Sometimes practical help is exactly what is needed.

The issue is not advice itself.

It is whether we have understood what the person needs before we offer it.

Someone who says:

“I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm doing everything and nobody notices.”

may not need us to immediately explain how to organise their week more efficiently.

They may need someone to recognise:

“You've been carrying a lot.”

Someone who says:

“I don't know whether I'm making the right decision.”

may not be asking us to make the decision for them.

They may need space to say aloud what they have been turning over privately for weeks.

And someone who says:

“I'm having a really hard time at the moment.”

may simply need to know that another person is willing to stay in the conversation without immediately trying to move them out of it.

Before offering a solution, we can become curious about what kind of support is actually being sought.

One Question Can Change the Conversation

When we're not sure what someone needs, we can ask.

It doesn't need to sound clinical.

It can be as simple as:

“Would you like me to just listen, help you think it through, or would you like some ideas?”

Or:

“Do you want to talk about it, or are you looking for help working out what to do next?”

This gives the other person some choice.

And sometimes their answer might surprise us.

They might say:

“I don't want advice. I just need to get this out.”

Or:

“Actually, yes. I have no idea what to do and I'd really like your thoughts.”

Or:

“I don't know. Can you just sit with me for a minute?”

We don't need to use these questions mechanically every time someone tells us something difficult.

Good listening isn't a script.

If your friend tells you they've had a terrible day, you don't necessarily need to conduct an assessment of their preferred communication style before responding.

But when we notice ourselves moving quickly towards fixing, asking what the person needs can interrupt the assumption that help must look like advice.

It also returns some choice to them.

Instead of deciding what support should look like, we allow them to tell us.

Silence Doesn't Mean You're Doing Nothing

Silence can feel surprisingly long when another person is upset.

Five seconds can feel like thirty.

Someone looks down.

Takes a breath.

Stops halfway through a sentence.

And we feel the urge to fill the space.

We ask another question.

Offer reassurance.

Change the subject.

Tell them it's okay.

Give them something to do next.

But silence doesn't always mean the conversation has stalled.

The person may be finding words for something difficult.

They may be noticing an emotion they hadn't expected.

They may be deciding whether they feel safe enough to say more.

They may simply be thinking.

When we fill every pause, we can unintentionally take that space away.

This is particularly relevant in counselling and other helping relationships, where the practitioner may feel responsible for keeping the conversation moving.

But a productive session doesn't require continuous talking.

Sometimes the work is happening in the pause.

That doesn't mean silence should be used rigidly or deliberately prolonged when someone is clearly uncomfortable and needs support.

Like any communication skill, it requires responsiveness.

The point isn't:

“Silence is always therapeutic.”

It's simply:

“I don't have to rescue every pause.”

There is a difference.

Reflection Is Different From Reassurance

When someone is distressed, reassurance can come almost automatically.

“Don't worry.”

“It'll work out.”

“I'm sure they didn't mean it that way.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“You'll be fine.”

Usually, we are trying to comfort.

But reassurance can sometimes move past what the person is actually telling us.

If someone says:

“I'm really frightened about what might happen,”

and we immediately respond:

“Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be okay,”

we may mean:

I care about you and I don't want you to be frightened.

But the person may hear:

There isn't room here for me to be frightened.

A reflective response does something different.

Perhaps:

“There's a lot of uncertainty here, and it sounds like that's frightening.”

Or:

“You've been trying to hold this together for a long time.”

Or simply:

“That sounds really hard.”

Reflection doesn't promise an outcome we can't guarantee.

It doesn't try to talk the person out of their feelings.

It communicates:

I heard you.

And sometimes being accurately heard is more comforting than being reassured.

When We Make Their Story About Ourselves

Shared experience can create connection.

A friend tells you they're going through a divorce and you've been through one too.

Someone talks about caring for an ageing parent and you immediately recognise the exhaustion.

A colleague describes returning to study as an adult and you remember exactly how nervous you felt.

There can be genuine value in saying:

“I've experienced something similar.”

It can reduce isolation.

It can communicate:

You're not the only person who has felt this way.

But there is a subtle point where sharing our experience can change the direction of the conversation.

They tell us about their relationship.

We begin talking about ours.

They describe their grief.

We tell the story of our loss.

They explain a problem at work.

We spend the next ten minutes describing what happened to us three years ago.

The conversation started with them.

Somewhere along the way, it became about us.

This doesn't mean we should never share our experiences.

It means we can ask:

“Am I sharing this because it will help them, or because their story has activated something in me?”

And after we share, another useful question is:

“Did that bring the conversation back towards them, or towards me?”

A short statement such as:

“I've been through something similar, so I know how consuming these situations can feel. What's been the hardest part for you?”

uses shared experience to reconnect with the person.

The purpose isn't to prove that we understand because we've lived through something comparable.

Their experience may still be very different from ours.

The purpose is to support connection without taking ownership of their story.

The Skill Beneath the Skill: Tolerating Our Own Discomfort

Perhaps one of the least discussed parts of good listening is what it requires us to tolerate.

Another person may be upset.

And we can't fix it.

They may be grieving something that cannot be restored.

They may be facing a decision for which there is no perfect option.

They may be living with uncertainty.

They may reject every suggestion we think would help.

They may choose something we wouldn't choose.

They may need time.

And sometimes there is simply no sentence we can offer that will make the situation okay.

That can be difficult for the listener.

Especially if we see ourselves as helpful.

If we are accustomed to being the person who solves problems, provides support or knows what to do, sitting beside something we cannot fix can leave us feeling strangely powerless.

So we reach for something.

Advice.

Reassurance.

A resource.

A plan.

A positive interpretation.

Anything that allows us to feel that we have helped.

But perhaps helping doesn't always require changing what the other person feels.

Sometimes the skill is being able to remain present without needing the conversation to resolve quickly.

This requires self-awareness.

We need to notice:

I want to interrupt.

I really want to tell them what to do.

I'm uncomfortable with this silence.

I need them to know everything will be okay.

I'm becoming frustrated that they won't take my advice.

We don't need to judge ourselves for those thoughts.

We can simply notice them.

Then decide whether acting on them will genuinely serve the other person.

This is one place where practices such as meditation and reflective practice can support communication.

Learning to notice a thought without immediately following it can create a small but important space between impulse and response.

In conversation, that space might be just a few seconds.

But a few seconds can be enough to choose:

curiosity instead of correction.

presence instead of reassurance.

a question instead of an answer.

Listening Doesn't Mean Agreeing

There is another misconception worth addressing.

Listening to understand does not mean agreeing with everything another person says.

You can understand why someone feels angry without agreeing with what they did while angry.

You can understand why someone is considering a decision while still having concerns about it.

You can listen carefully to someone's perspective and reach a different conclusion.

Understanding and agreement are not the same thing.

This distinction can be particularly difficult when we care about someone and believe they're making a mistake.

We may think:

If I don't tell them they're wrong, they'll think I agree.

So instead of listening, we begin building the case for our position.

But we can hold both things.

“I can understand why you're considering that. I also have some concerns. Would you be open to hearing them?”

Now the person has been heard.

And we haven't abandoned our own perspective.

In professional helping relationships, this distinction is particularly important.

A practitioner doesn't need to endorse every belief, choice or behaviour in order to understand the client's experience.

There may also be situations involving safety, ethics, professional responsibilities or risk where a practitioner cannot simply remain neutral.

But even then, understanding the person's perspective can help us respond more thoughtfully.

Listening isn't surrendering our judgement.

It is making sure our judgement doesn't arrive before our understanding.

Protecting the Other Person's Agency

One of the risks of moving too quickly into fixing is that we can begin taking responsibility for decisions that don't belong to us.

We see the situation.

We see what appears to be the solution.

And because we care, we become invested in whether the person takes our advice.

Perhaps we recommend that they set a boundary.

Apply for the job.

Leave the relationship.

Have the conversation.

See a professional.

Start meditating.

Take some time off.

Then they don't do it.

They come back a week later with the same problem.

And we think:

But we already talked about this.

Why haven't they done anything?

They know what they need to do.

This can be a useful moment for self-reflection.

Because somewhere along the way, we may have moved from supporting another person's process to becoming invested in the outcome we think they should choose.

A question worth asking is:

“Whose goal am I carrying?”

People are allowed to move at their own pace.

They're allowed to feel uncertain.

They're allowed to change their minds.

They're allowed to make decisions we wouldn't make.

They're even allowed to ask for our perspective and then decide not to follow it.

This can be particularly important in counselling, coaching and other helping relationships.

A practitioner brings knowledge, skills, professional responsibilities and an outside perspective.

But the client still brings something the practitioner can never possess:

their lived experience of their own life.

Supporting agency doesn't mean standing back when professional responsibilities require action. Nor does it mean pretending every option carries the same consequences.

It means recognising where our responsibility ends and another person's right to choose begins.

Sometimes we can see a possible path.

That doesn't mean we can walk it for them.

When Practical Help Really Is the Right Next Step

None of this means practical help is unhelpful.

Sometimes someone really does need information.

Sometimes they want ideas.

Sometimes they're overwhelmed because they cannot see their options clearly.

Sometimes a practical problem needs a practical response.

If your friend says:

“My car won't start and I have to be at work in twenty minutes,”

they probably don't need a long reflective conversation about what the experience of the broken-down car means to them.

They may need a lift.

Context matters.

In more emotionally complex conversations, practical help can also be valuable.

The difference is that it can come after enough understanding has occurred.

We might ask:

“Would it be helpful if we thought through some options together?”

Notice the word together.

Rather than:

“Here's what you need to do.”

we can explore:

“What options have you considered?”

“What feels realistic at the moment?”

“What would make that difficult?”

“What support would you need?”

“What's one small next step that feels manageable?”

Advice becomes collaborative rather than directive.

The person remains involved in deciding what happens next.

And because we've taken the time to understand their situation first, any practical support we offer is more likely to fit the reality of their life.

Listening in Helping Professions

For people working in counselling, coaching, meditation teaching, community services and other wellbeing roles, listening carries additional responsibilities.

Professional listening isn't simply being a caring person who happens to be good at conversations.

There are boundaries.

Ethical responsibilities.

Scope of practice.

Confidentiality considerations.

Documentation.

Risk.

Referral pathways.

And limits to what any one practitioner can appropriately provide.

A practitioner may sometimes need to do more than listen.

They may need to provide education.

Clarify information.

Discuss strategies.

Explore goals.

Follow organisational procedures.

Respond to risk.

Recommend additional support.

Or recognise that the person's needs sit outside their professional scope and an appropriate referral is required.

The goal is not to become so committed to non-directive listening that we stop using professional judgement.

Instead, we learn to recognise what this particular moment requires.

Does this person need space to talk?

Do they need help clarifying what they're experiencing?

Are they asking for information?

Would a practical strategy be useful?

Is something outside my scope?

Is there a safety concern?

Do I need supervision or guidance?

Is my desire to help beginning to become a desire to rescue?

Good listening and good professional judgement work together.

And sometimes one of the most important professional skills is recognising that we are not the answer to every problem a person brings us.

That isn't failure.

It is part of ethical practice.

Listening in Everyday Relationships

Of course, most of our listening doesn't happen in a counselling room.

It happens in kitchens.

Cars.

Workplaces.

Over coffee.

On the phone.

At the end of a long day when someone we love starts talking just as we're mentally ready to switch off.

And this is often where listening becomes hardest.

We may be tired.

Distracted.

Busy.

Emotionally involved.

We may already have an opinion about the situation.

We may have heard the story before.

We may desperately want someone we love to make a different choice.

There may even be a long history between us that makes it difficult to listen without bringing previous conversations into the current one.

This is why listening well isn't about achieving some perfect state of calm, endlessly patient attention.

We're human too.

Sometimes we don't have the capacity for a deep conversation at that moment.

Being honest about that can be more respectful than pretending to listen while barely taking anything in.

We might say:

“I want to hear this properly, but I'm really distracted at the moment. Can we talk after dinner when I can actually give you my attention?”

That is still care.

Listening well isn't measured by how endlessly available we are.

Sometimes it begins with recognising whether we have the capacity to be present.

Try This in One Conversation This Week

You don't need to become a completely different listener overnight.

Choose one conversation.

It doesn't even need to be particularly serious.

And experiment with doing slightly less.

Don't rush to fill the pause.

Don't immediately tell your similar story.

Don't begin preparing your response halfway through theirs.

Don't automatically reassure.

Don't search for the solution before you understand the problem.

Instead, listen until they've finished.

Leave a little space.

Ask one genuine question.

Perhaps:

“What has that been like for you?”

Or:

“What feels hardest about it?”

Or simply:

“What do you need from me right now?”

And while they're speaking, notice what happens inside you.

Do you feel an urge to fix?

To reassure?

To disagree?

To tell them what happened to you?

To move the conversation somewhere more comfortable?

You don't need to stop yourself from ever doing those things.

Just notice.

Because awareness gives us more choice.

And choice changes how we listen.

A Few Questions to Reflect On

You might like to consider these questions in relation to your personal relationships, professional work, or both.

When someone I care about is struggling, how quickly do I move towards solutions?

How comfortable am I when someone is upset and I can't make it better?

Do I listen differently when I disagree with someone's choices?

How often am I preparing my response while the other person is still speaking?

When I share my own experience, does it bring the conversation back towards them or towards me?

What happens inside me when someone doesn't take my advice?

Do I sometimes reassure people because I find their distress difficult to sit with?

How comfortable am I with a few seconds of silence?

And perhaps:

What might change in my conversations if I became a little more curious and a little less certain that I needed to have the answer?

Developing the Ability to Really Listen

Listening is sometimes described as though it should come naturally.

But meaningful listening is a skill.

It involves attention.

Curiosity.

Self-awareness.

Communication.

Reflection.

Boundaries.

Professional judgement where appropriate.

And the ability to recognise when our own emotions, experiences and assumptions are entering the conversation.

These are capacities that can continue developing throughout our lives.

For people considering work in meditation teaching, holistic counselling, coaching or other helping roles, learning how to support another person without immediately taking over their process is an important part of practitioner development.

At the Australian Meditation & Holistic Counselling College, our training explores not only techniques and theoretical knowledge, but also the reflective and interpersonal skills involved in working thoughtfully with others.

If you're considering professional training but aren't sure which pathway might suit you, you can explore the AMHCC Course Finder, download our Course & Career Pathways Guide, or book an obligation-free enrolment consultation to talk through your options.

Try the Course Finder → COURSE FINDER

Download the Course & Career Pathways Guide → COURSE GUIDE

Explore Holistic Counselling Training → HOLISTIC COUNSELLING

Book an Enrolment Consultation → ENROLMENT CONSULTATION

Maybe They Don't Need an Answer

Let's return to the person at the beginning.

They're overwhelmed.

They don't know what to do.

You can see possibilities.

Perhaps part of you still wants to tell them exactly what you think.

But this time, you wait.

You let them finish.

You ask another question.

They pause.

You don't rush to fill it.

Then they say something they hadn't said before.

Perhaps they realise what they're actually afraid of.

Perhaps they recognise what matters most to them.

Perhaps they still have absolutely no idea what they're going to do.

Nothing has been neatly resolved.

The problem hasn't disappeared.

You haven't produced the perfect piece of advice.

But they leave the conversation feeling a little less alone in it.

And perhaps that is worth recognising.

Because listening isn't passive simply because we haven't provided a solution.

Sometimes we listen for the problem when the person is asking us to hear the experience.

Sometimes our role is to help someone explore possibilities.

Sometimes practical action is necessary.

And sometimes the most helpful thing we can offer is our steady attention, genuine curiosity and enough space for another person to discover what they think.

The measure of a good conversation isn't always whether we helped someone find an answer.

Sometimes it is whether they had enough space to hear their own.

Natalee Hudson

Founder & Principal

Australian Meditation & Holistic Counselling College

Empower Your Mind. Transform Lives.