The time when I tried to fix a friend instead of just LISTENING.

There’s a version of me that comes alive when someone says, “Can I rant for a second?”

Suddenly, I’m in solution mode. I start connecting dots. I analyse. I suggest. I explain things in bullet points. And I’m not trying to show off, I genuinely want to help. I want people to feel better, to get clarity. It's like emotional first aid or so I thought.

One day, a close friend called me. She sounded tired. Her voice was small. She started talking about how overwhelmed she was with work, with home, with just... life. I did what I always do: I started offering advice.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“Why don’t you talk to your manager about flexible hours?”

“Have you tried journaling or meditation?”

I must’ve rattled off five solutions before I even realised she’d gone quiet. When she finally spoke again, her tone had changed.

“I just… needed to let it out. I’m not asking you to fix it.”

That sentence hit me harder than I expected. I felt embarrassed. I apologised, of course. I tried to soften it with a “I just care about you,” and she said she knew. But I still could feel the wall that had quietly gone up between us.

After the call, I sat there replaying the whole thing. I meant well. I always mean well. But maybe that was the problem I was so focused on helping that I forgot to actually listen.

I started reflecting on past conversations too. Had I always done this? Probably. How many friends had come to me hoping for comfort and instead gotten a mini therapy session they didn’t ask for?

The more I thought about it, the more I realised: sometimes people just need a witness to their pain, not a solution for it.

They don’t want a five-step recovery plan. They don’t want to feel like their feelings are puzzles to be solved. They just want to be heard. To feel less alone.

That realisation changed how I show up for people now.

These days, I ask before I dive in. “Do you want advice, or do you just need to vent?” It’s such a simple question, but it’s been a game-changer. Some say “vent.” Some say “help me think.” Either way, they feel seen and that’s the whole point.

That friend and I are still close. We talked it out eventually. She told me that while she appreciated my heart, she just needed space that day. And I got that. I really did.

What I learnt: Empathy isn’t about fixing. It’s about feeling with. The best kind of support often doesn’t sound like “Here’s what to do”, it sounds like “That sounds really hard. I’m here.” And sometimes, being there truly, quietly, fully is more powerful than any advice I could ever give.

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