I’ve been thinking a lot about listening lately. Proper listening. Not the sort you do while stirring your brew or pretending to watch the telly. I mean the layered stuff, the kind that feels like peeling an onion. And like an onion, it can sting your eyes and leave you feeling a bit worn out.

There’s the everyday listening we all do. The casual I’ll chip in when I fancy kind. Then there’s half listening, where you catch every third word and hope no one asks you anything too complicated. Selective hearing is another classic, especially when someone starts a sentence with Can you just. Funny how the ears switch off at that exact moment.

And then there’s the deep stuff. The fully invested, fully present, I can almost feel what you’re feeling kind of listening. That’s the listening I do in the counselling room. It’s not passive. It’s not just nodding along. It’s work. Emotional, mental, sometimes physical. It’s holding someone’s story with both hands and saying I’m here, I’m with you, I’m not going anywhere.

To do that, I have to leave my own world outside the door. Some days I imagine literally putting it in a bag and hanging it on a hook. My worries, my to do list, the fact I forgot to take something out of the freezer for tea, all of it stays outside. Then I put on my full listening ears, like a child putting on their school shoes, and step into someone else’s world for a while.

And honestly, when I say I walk alongside someone, I mean it. It’s not a phrase. It’s a feeling. A posture. A choice.

Being Human Outside the Counselling Room

Outside the counselling room, people sometimes forget that this kind of listening takes energy. I’ll be halfway through a sandwich and someone will joke come on counsellor, you should know this. And I get it, it’s light hearted. But it also reminds me how invisible the work of listening can be.

Counsellors aren’t switched on all the time. We can’t be. We’re human. We have our own worlds, our own tired days, our own moments where our brains feel like a cluttered loft. And that’s alright. It doesn’t make us less caring. It just makes us real.

Listening in Person Centred Theory

In person centred counselling, listening isn’t just a technique. It’s part of the core conditions. Carl Rogers talked about empathic understanding, which is more than hearing the words. It’s getting the world from the client’s point of view. It’s tuning into their emotional frequency and staying with them, even when the signal wobbles.

It’s active. It’s intentional. It’s a form of respect.

And when it’s done well, it creates a space where someone feels seen and understood, maybe for the first time in a long time. That’s why it’s tiring. That’s why it’s precious. And that’s why it can’t be switched on like a lamp whenever someone fancies a deep chat in the queue at Tesco.

The Power of Just Sitting With Someone

What I’ve realised recently is how rare proper listening actually is. Putting the phone down. Not planning your response. Not trying to fix anything. Just being with someone in their story.

It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

And that’s what makes it powerful.

Peeling Back the Layers

So I’ll keep peeling back the layers of this listening onion. Some days it’ll make my eyes water, some days it’ll feel easy, and some days I’ll forget where I put my full listening ears. But I’ll keep trying, because being with someone, properly with them, is one of the most human things we get to do.

Take Care, Nicole x