Advice on Advice

Advice is a minefield. There’s so much of it. Some of it’s useful, some of it isn’t. Some of it’s wanted or needed. On the other hand, unsolicited advice is usually very unwelcome. It’s something we may seek out, but whether we then actually use it is another thing. It’s also something that people seem keen to dish out. There’s a level at which it almost seems irresistible – either when we’re searching for it or when we’re too eager to share it.

Advice can be useful. Sometimes we actively seek it out. If it’s something new, advice can help us get started; if we feel totally stumped, it can give a new perspective. Sometimes it can be really useful and stop us making a big mistake or help us with something we’ve never thought about before. It definitely has its place.

There are also many pitfalls. It can be outdated, reflect the agenda of the advice giver or just be plain wrong.

Like salt, a little bit can be good for us, but too much definitely isn’t. It can get overwhelming. How do you know what advice to follow, especially when there’s so much out there, and much of it is contradictory; will it really help you and the situation you’re in? Will it really work in real life? It can add to the pressure when you need to come up with a solution in the heat of the moment and you’re trying to remember what the best advice is. If you’re not careful, you can end up feeling like a failure for not getting it ‘quite right.’

Advice can override our own problem-solving abilities and stop us from trusting ourselves, leaving us feeling helpless and dependent. I found that once with a new parenting group I’d joined.  I had lots of questions, and in the beginning, I asked for guidance on all sorts of things. At first it was useful, but over time I stopped thinking for myself. I weaned myself off it by guessing how my questions might be answered and realised I was no longer learning anything I didn’t already know.

Giving advice can be tricky too because what works for one person might not work for someone else, even if they seem to be in a similar situation. We’re all so different, that we often need to find our own way through and sometimes advice can just make matters more confusing.

Even when they’ve asked for it, people don’t always follow advice; rather like asking someone for directions and then not paying attention to their answer. Other times, it may be the most brilliant bit of advice ever, but the other person chooses not to take it. It’s an opt in or opt out thing, which is good because it shouldn’t turn into a form of control. It’s easy for it to become patronising or undermining.

Regardless of its limitations most of us are tempted to give advice at times, even when it’s not needed. For example, when someone is in crisis, we often feel compelled to do or say something helpful, especially if the situation makes us feel a bit panicky. 

I’m still learning how to gauge when it might be useful and welcome and when it won’t be. With friends and my children, they often don’t want my opinion, they just want me to listen. My children make it so obvious (as children do) when they don’t want to listen to my advice and I’ve learnt to respect that. When I shut up and listen, it changes the dynamic from one of irritable misunderstanding to a much more connected feeling. I don’t need advice to tell me I’ve got it right then; I can feel it.

I’m now choosier about what advice I decide to use. It has to be a good fit and it has to suit the situation and I have to want to use it. And when it’s no longer useful, it’s good to drop it without getting too attached to it. Equally, I’m trying not to give out advice so readily and when I do, I’m trying to check if it’s wanted first. At the end of the day, we know ourselves best and what does and doesn’t work. So, what advice would I give on advice? After all I’ve said, I’m in no position to give any.  The best I can say is if you like it, take it, if you don’t then don’t.