Don't be too quick to offer 'solutions' to 'problems' you think you see. People want to be heard, understood, and seen, rather than treated like a broken dishwasher. — Montreal Therapy
Whenever I work with couples in therapy, I might suggest at some point for each person to think about their conflict and ask, “What’s missing in the middle?”
Most of us grow up learning that, when we see a problem, we fix the problem. We also learn that there’s a “right answer” to find. This works well when we’re trying to solve for “x” in algebra, or repairing an object that’s not functioning properly. Where it falls short is when we apply the “see problem, fix problem” mindset to people.
Austrian philosopher Martin Buber suggested we broadly relate to people in one of two ways. We might see people from an “I-It” perspective, meaning we see the other person as something to fix or manage, and struggle to see them as a whole person. Or we can see someone through the lens of “I-Thou”, where the other is a separate person who we relate to and consider as a whole person, with their own inner life, feelings, and agency, rather than a thing to sort or repair.
For Buber, a genuine human encounter is where meaning, responsibility, and connection arise, while treating others as objects gradually erodes their dignity, and our capacity to share a meaningful relationship.
If a relationship feels managed or transactional, there are two simple ways to help reduce that feeling of disconnect or superficial connection and start to develop more depth and understanding.
First, if we feel we’re trying to fix or repair someone, we can pause and ask ourselves, “What’s missing in the middle?” In practical terms, this can be recognising that the other person has their own feelings, opinions, preferences, and different ways of seeing the world.
Second, it’s helpful to recognise when we’re thinking more about our own needs than the needs of the other. This can be tricky, since we all tend to presume what we do and say is helpful and in the interests of others.
Bringing this all together, it can look like asking someone for their thoughts or to tell us what they need, and noticing the urge or impulse within ourselves to jump in to “rescue” them and “correct” their course.
The desire to help, to fix, to be useful, is one we all share. Whether we want to save someone, show ourselves to be helpful, or simply maintain a good impression or desired image, solving a problem feels like the necessary thing to do. But sometimes, our solution to a problem is a problem. We might rush to offer advice and solutions, which can feel dismissive as we focus on what we feel is best for the other rather than taking the time to understand where they’re coming from.
When I was training to be a counsellor, I started my practicum with an accordion folder containing 50 worksheets. Whether someone had depression, anxiety, or relationship problems, there was no problem that couldn’t be solved.
It soon became clear that people wanted to be heard, understood, and seen, rather than treated like a broken dishwasher. It was also obvious that many people knew what they “should” do to help themselves – if advice was enough, they wouldn’t be in therapy.
When I began training in existential therapy, I learned how to support someone as they made use of the space to talk about their problems, relationships, and patterns, and come to understand their strengths and limitations.
There’d be a recognition some point along the road when the other person and I realise there’s nothing in them to fix, but rather the point is to help them figure out who they are and how they want to be without imposing my own values.
As American psychologist Carl Rogers wrote: “When someone really hears you without passing judgement on you, without trying to take responsibility for you, without trying to mould you, it feels damn good. When I have been listened to and when I have been heard, I am able to re-perceive my world in a new way and to go on. It is astonishing how elements which seem insoluble become soluble when someone listens.”
What tends to be missing in the middle, then, isn’t a clever solution or a better explanation about why someone’s struggling or going through a hard time. It’s to provide space for the other person to speak without being steered, improved, or corrected, and to know it’s OK to not have everything figured out at once.
In close relationships, that can feel uncomfortable. We’re so used to trying to make problems go away that allowing space for problems to exist can feel passive or insufficient, as though we’re failing to contribute. But one of the most valuable ways to help someone is to support them in their space without trying to take it over.
If we can offer that, the relationship stops being about who or what’s right and starts becoming somewhere both people can breathe and accept each other wholly as they are.
