Let’s be honest for a second.
Most of us aren’t very good at listening.
We try. We want to be the person people come to when they need to talk. We want to be trusted, relied on, the one who “gets it.” But somewhere between wanting to listen and actually doing it, something goes wrong.
We get distracted by our own thoughts.
We start formulating our response before they’re done talking.
We offer solutions when they just wanted to be heard.
We say “I know exactly how you feel” when we don’t, not really, not exactly.
I’ve done all of these. Still do. But I’ve also learned a few things about listening that have changed how I show up for the people I love.
And here’s the first one: Listening is not about you.
That sounds obvious. It’s not. Most of the time, when someone is talking, we’re quietly making it about us. What we’d say. How we’d fix it. When we can share our similar story. Whether we agree or disagree.
Real listening requires setting all of that down. Temporarily. Just long enough to let someone else hold the microphone without you trying to grab it.
Why We’re Bad at Listening
We’re not bad listeners because we’re bad people. We’re bad listeners because:
We’re tired.
Life is exhausting. By the time someone starts talking, we’ve already used up most of our attention on work, kids, bills, decisions, doomscrolling, and just existing. There’s not much left.
We’re uncomfortable with silence.
When someone pauses, we rush to fill the space. We ask questions, offer advice, share our story—anything to avoid that awkward gap where nothing is happening. But silence is where the good stuff lives. If you rush past it, you miss it.
We want to help.
This one sounds noble, but it’s actually a trap. When someone is hurting, we want to fix it. We offer solutions because watching someone suffer and doing nothing feels terrible. But most people don’t need solutions. They need to be heard. Fixing skips over the hearing part.
We’re distracted.
Our phones. Our to-do lists. The thing we’re thinking about saying next. The TV in the background. There’s always something competing for our attention, and most of the time, it wins.
A Story About Not Listening
A few years ago, a friend was telling me about something hard.
I don’t even remember what it was now. What I remember is my own brain: racing ahead, planning what I’d say, thinking about a similar thing that happened to me, mentally composing the perfect response that would show how much I understood.
I was nodding along. Making eye contact. Doing all the “good listener” things.
But I wasn’t listening. I was waiting for my turn.
At some point, she stopped mid-sentence and said:
“You’re not really here, are you?”
I felt caught. Exposed. Because she was right. I was present in body, absent in spirit. And she could feel it.
I apologized. Asked her to keep going. Put my phone in another room. Took a breath. Actually listened.
And here’s what I learned: She didn’t need my wisdom. She didn’t need my similar story. She didn’t need me to fix anything. She just needed me to be there. Fully. Without an agenda.
I’d failed her earlier because I was trying to be a “good listener” instead of just… listening.
What Real Listening Looks Like
After that moment, I started paying attention to what actually works. Here’s what I’ve learned:
Real listening is empty.
You empty yourself of your own stuff. Your opinions. Your advice. Your similar stories. Your judgments. Your agenda. You become a hollow space where someone else’s experience can exist without being crowded out by yours.
Real listening is patient.
You don’t rush. You don’t fill silences. You let them take the time they need to find the words, even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s long. Even if you have to sit in the quiet and just… be there.
Real listening doesn’t fix.
You resist the urge to solve. You trust that they don’t need your answers—they need your presence. If they want advice, they’ll ask. If they don’t, your job is just to hold space.
Real listening is curious.
Instead of thinking “what should I say?” you think “I wonder what this is like for them?” You ask questions not to gather information, but to understand. Real questions. Open ones. “What was that like?” “How did that feel?” “Is there more?”
Real listening stays.
When it gets heavy, you don’t leave. When it gets messy, you don’t flinch. When they cry, you don’t try to stop them. You just stay. Right there. With them.
Small Things That Help
If you want to be a better listener, here are a few tiny practices that actually work:
Put your phone somewhere else.
Not face down. Not on silent. Somewhere else. Another room if you can. Your phone is a portal to infinity. You can’t compete with infinity. Remove it.
Take three breaths before responding.
When they finish talking, don’t jump in. Breathe. Let what they said land. Let them feel the weight of being heard before you add anything.
Ask “do you want comfort or solutions?”
This one is magic. Most fights in conversations happen because one person wants to vent and the other wants to fix. Just ask. It takes two seconds and saves hours of frustration.
Repeat back what you heard.
Not like a parrot. Just: “It sounds like you’re saying…” or “I’m hearing that you felt…” It shows you’re trying. And if you got it wrong, they can correct you. Win-win.
Notice when you drift and come back.
You will drift. Everyone does. The goal isn’t perfect focus. The goal is noticing when you’ve drifted and gently returning. Again and again. That’s love.
What People Actually Need When They Talk
Underneath every conversation, there’s usually one of these:
They need to be seen.
They need someone to notice what they’re carrying.
They need to be believed.
They need someone to trust that their experience is real.
They need to be held.
Not physically (though sometimes). They need someone to contain their feelings without being overwhelmed by them.
They need to be less alone.
That’s really it. Under everything. They just don’t want to be alone with what they’re feeling. And you, by listening, are keeping them company.
You don’t need to be wise. You don’t need to have answers. You just need to be there.
That’s enough. That’s everything.
A Question to Ask Yourself
After your next conversation with someone who needed to talk, ask yourself:
“Did they feel more alone after talking to me, or less?”
Not did you fix it. Not did you say the right thing. Just: did they leave feeling less alone?
If yes, you listened.
If no, try again tomorrow.
That’s all. That’s the whole practice.
What I Want You to Know
You’re going to be distracted sometimes. You’re going to miss things. You’re going to offer solutions when they just wanted to be heard.
That’s not failure. That’s being human.
What matters is that you keep trying. Keep noticing. Keep coming back. Keep asking “do you want comfort or solutions?” Keep putting your phone in another room. Keep breathing before you speak.
The people you love don’t need you to be a perfect listener. They need you to be a trying one.
Someone who keeps showing up. Keeps practicing. Keeps making space.
Someone who, even when they’re tired and distracted and already forming their response, catches themselves and comes back.
That person is you.
And you’re better at this than you think.
P.S. What’s one thing that helps you listen better? I’d genuinely love to know. Drop it in the comments or just notice it next time it happens.
