No one appreciates unsolicited advice. So, why do we
continue to offer it? Is this just one more pointless human activity, like when
someone screams at you and you scream back at them, or when you carry on
philosophical conversations with your cat? There is no explanation for why we
do such things. We know they don’t serve any purpose whatsoever, yet we
continue to do them anyway. Does unsolicited advice fall into that same
category? Or could there possibly be a good reason for this compulsion we have
to tell other people what’s best for them despite the fact that they have no
interest in hearing it?
When I go to a friend with a problem and pour my heart out, it doesn’t mean I’m
asking for advice. I don’t want her to solve my problem; I just want her to
listen to me. When I want advice, I ask for it. If I don’t ask, it doesn’t
matter if it’s the best advice in the world, I’m not receptive to it. The only
time I respond well to unsolicited advice is when someone advises me to do
something I wanted to do all along. Otherwise, put a sock in it! And while I know this is true for myself as an advice-receiver, I have difficulty recognizing how it might also be worth acknowledging for myself as an advice-giver.
Advice-givers will often find well-disguised ways to get their message across.
There’s the stealth advisor, who sneaks his directives under the radar by
asking innocent questions like, “Were there any instructions in the box?” Or
the disclaim-er who thinks she can clear the way for receptivity by preceding
her prescription with, “I don’t mean to be telling you what to do, but…” The
one I find most endearing is the yarn spinner, who opens with, “Did I ever tell
you about the time…?” You know this stroll down memory lane is going to be a story
with an agenda, perhaps a disturbing, cautionary tale.
There are clearly some people who enjoy telling others what they ought
to do. I suspect it gives them a feeling of superiority. Others are
insufferable control freaks who jump at every opportunity to push other people
around. But what about the people who truly mean well when they freely offer up
their pearls of wisdom without being asked?
My children have been the recipients of unsolicited advice through the years. I
know this because I’ve been their unsolicited adviser. They used to roll their
eyes and sigh while I said my piece. Then they proceeded to do whatever they
wanted. But I couldn’t help myself. I felt compelled to dish it out like great
big heaps of mashed potatoes.
When they were little, they needed me to guide them. If I
hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t be here today. They needed me to tell them
things like, “Don't play with rattlesnakes 30 minutes after you've eaten without a lifejacket on.” As
they grew more self-sufficient, I tried to keep my mouth shut as much as
possible. Yet, I still found myself saying things like, “It’s never smart to
make the minimum payment on your credit card.” Or, “Please promise me you wear
a condom when you have sex.” The content of my advice changed, but my need to
offer it didn’t. And that may be the key to understanding why I still do it.
It’s not that I think
Gretchen and Ben are incompetent to figure these things out on their own.
They’re both smart people, and I know they don’t need me to give them advice.
Yes, they’ll do whatever they choose, despite anything I might say to them. But
when I offer them advice, it’s not for them, it’s for me. I do it because I need to be needed.
When you love someone, your happiness is intricately connected to theirs. You
want to protect them because, if they’re not safe, you’re not safe. You don’t
want them to mess their lives up because when they do, it messes up your life,
too. When they pay the price for their mistakes, you pay the price as well.
Their heartbreak breaks your heart. Their failures leave you feeling defeated.
Their wounds make you bleed. That’s why parents have no choice but to offer
advice to their children, whether they ask for it or not. Yes, it may be annoying
as hell for them, but hopefully they understand that offering unsolicited
advice is just another variation on “I love you.”
