Becoming a Better Listener
As a therapist, I spend a lot of time watching how conflict unfolds between two people who both believe they are trying to do the right thing.
Often, one person comes forward carrying pain. They are trying, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes imperfectly, to say, “Something is hurting me. Something feels wrong.”
And sometimes the response they receive is criticism of the delivery:
“You’re too harsh.”“You’re too cold.”“You’re saying it the wrong way.”“This isn’t the right time or place to bring this up.” or “You hurt me too.”
Of course, tone and delivery matter. Equality matters. Respect matters. Safety matters. But when the entire focus shifts to how the message is being expressed, we can easily lose the original signal that someone is hurting.
Repair begins when someone who loves you, or at least genuninely cares, takes the time to wonder:
“What is the pain underneath what this person is saying? Can I listen for that before judging the form it takes?”
A way to practice this is to say to the person who’s expressing a concern, “Thanks for telling me that. What I’m hearing is….” and then try to reflect back the concern you’re hearing. Then you can even ask, “Did I get that right?”
This doesn’t mean that you have to immediately apologize or accept responsibilty for hurting them. It just means that you can stay grounded in yourself to be curious about their inner world for a little longer.
I think about this not only in therapy rooms, but in our broader social conversations. When people protest, disrupt, or speak in ways that make us uncomfortable, it’s natural to feel protective of norms, sacred spaces, or civility. But if we stop at discomfort with tone or method and never engage the underlying fear, grief, or urgency driving the expression, we may miss the very conversation that could lead to healing or change.
Listening first doesn’t mean agreeing with everything or abandoning boundaries or discernment. It certainly doesn’t mean accepting verbal abuse. It simply means recognizing that behind raised voices or imperfect delivery is often a deeper message that’s dying to be heard.
And sometimes the most meaningful question we can ask in relationships or in society, is not, “Was that said politely enough?” but “What pain is trying to reach me right now? And am I willing to take that seriously, and care about them enough to try to understand it?”
When this happens in my office, the person who has been incredibly upset or angry will change. Their voice will get gentler. And you can almost see the tension dissolve from their body. It’s often at this point that they become most open to hearing the other person’s perspective as well.
