The Ways of a Listener

“I can’t speak with you right now. I am in the middle of a sentence.”

“You know, you don’t have to say everything you know.”

I learn great things from my client friends. The first comment came from a couple interchange that was lively, funny, heated, pointed – good conflict, in other words. The second comment was reported by a man who discovered that he didn’t have to win every argument, position himself in every discussion or make a comment on the wary ways of his teenagers.

There are thought to be three basic styles of listening, one better than the other two.

1) The first is “listening to be right.” Competitive listening happens when we are more interested in winning a verbal war or promoting your own point of view, than in understanding somebody else or their thoughts. It is the communication style of the arrogant (“Knowing it all, why would I waste time understanding someone else?”).

2) In “hearing” (“I heard what you said!”) the listener is passive, meandering in and out of the verbal stream, not engaged enough to make a comment, not passionate enough to disagree, and not thoughtful enough to carry the conversation further. Weak and wimpy or, at best, distracted and dismissive, less a communication style than a communication impairment.

3) Participative listening creates a partnership, a team activity with all the cooperation and friction this implies. Engagement is high because you are interested, expressing interest and inviting interest. It is interesting conversation and it goes somewhere and with some panache (a word my Dad used which still sounds wonderfully soul-ish to me).

It might be helpful to know the ways of a listener. I feel myself irritated with me when I listen to prove my rightness; and I feel even more miserable when I sense someone is waiting to find my logical fault. But I love talking when there is an interchange of meaning and (e)motion. It feels to me like being a member of a motorcycle gang (the friendly kind), all of us moving in the same direction, creating lots of lovely Harley noise, and with élan (another word my Dad used to use).

Creating Space — Loneliness

“When we feel lonely we keep looking for a person or persons who can take our loneliness away. Our lonely hearts cry out, ‘Please hold me, touch me, speak to me, pay attention to me.’ But soon we discover that the person we expect to take our loneliness away cannot give us what we ask for. Often that person feels oppressed by our demands and runs away, leaving us in despair. As long as we approach another person from our loneliness, no mature human relationship can develop. Clinging to one another in loneliness is suffocating and eventually becomes destructive. For love to be possible we need the courage to create space between us and to trust that this space allows us to dance together.” (Henri Nouwen)

What Not to Say to Your Depressed Friend

Job had his counsellors and they were pretty good until they started to talk. At that point, they spiraled down — and quickly. Here are the kind of things people say to depressed people when they should probably just go home.

• Just think of those people who are worse off than you are.
• Life’s not fair.
• Feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t help.
• Make a decision not to be so depressed.
• Snap out of it!
• Just get active and you will be fine tomorrow.
• It’s probably grief, or anger, or loss, or poor self-esteem, or something like that.
• Have you tried chamomile tea (or whatever)?
• I know how you feel. I was depressed for several days a couple of months ago.
• Haven’t you grown tired of all this “me, me, me” stuff?

It doesn’t take a professional counsellor to listen deeply and respond slowly. You can do it.

What Do You Say to Your Depressed Friend?

Mostly we say stuff that doesn’t help our depressed friend but relieves our urgency to impact helpfully and avoids our anxiety in sitting numbly. Then who are we helping? Probably ourselves.

Sitting patiently, looking caringly, wondering quietly — this helps, but eventually it is probably necessary to say something. So here are a few statements that, if said truthfully, have a better chance of helping than harming. Notice that the statements are non persuasive or argumentative, that they are not trying to be artificially “up,” and that they do not pose to identify (“I felt sad for a couple of days last week.”).

• You’re not alone in this.
• You are important to me.
• You are not going crazy.
• When all of this is over, I’ll still be here and so will you.
• I can’t really understand what you are feeling, but I can listen.
• I’m with you. I’m not going to give up on you.

Today a friend came into my office and asked in the most friendly way, “How are you doing?” And I told him of my dysphoric mood and he listened. And when I thought I was finished telling and talking, he still listened, looking affectionately, so I said some more. I found some good stuff to tell him that was hiding in my subconscious just below the melancholia. And then he asked to pray for me, offered me his hand to stand up and held me quietly for 15 seconds or so and then simply announced “Amen.”

[Next blog on “What Not to Say to Your Depressed Friend.”]

This blog is adapted from an article on Depression Alliance.