Of the many ideas and influences that have shaped the way I understand psychotherapy, the work of Carl Rogers has remained particularly important to me.
There was something about Rogers’ person-centred approach that appealed to me from the beginning. It seemed both simple and profound: the importance of meeting each individual in my practice not simply as a client or a collection of problems, but as a person.
And at the centre of that is listening. Not simply hearing someone’s words, but trying to understand the experience behind them.
Over the years, I have come to appreciate just how difficult but important that can be.
More Than Hearing
In everyday conversation, we often listen while preparing our response.
We may be thinking about what advice we can offer, what we should say next, whether we have experienced something similar ourselves, or how we might solve the problem the other person is describing.
Therapeutic listening is different. It asks us to put some of that aside and, as far as possible, allow another person’s experience to emerge on its own terms.
That isn’t always easy. We naturally interpret what we hear through the lens of our own experiences, beliefs and assumptions. If someone tells us they are struggling with something we have experienced ourselves, it can be tempting to think, I know exactly how you feel.
In my experience, we often don’t.
Even when two people go through apparently similar experiences, they can experience them in profoundly different ways.
I think good listening therefore requires curiosity.
It requires a willingness to stay interested in the other person rather than rushing towards an explanation.
Perhaps most importantly, it requires a certain humility. I have come to recognise that I can never completely know another person’s experience simply because I have encountered something similar myself.
The Person Behind the Problem
One of the aspects of Rogers’ thinking that has stayed with me is his emphasis on the person rather than simply the problem.
Someone may come to therapy experiencing anxiety, depression, grief, relationship difficulties or a profound sense of uncertainty.
Those descriptions can be useful. They give us a starting point, but they don’t tell us who the person actually is.
Behind the difficulty is a whole person with a history. There may be childhood experiences, important relationships, hopes, disappointments, fears, beliefs and aspirations.
There may be things that have never been spoken about before.
There may also be strengths that have become difficult for the person to see because they have been overwhelmed by whatever has brought them into therapy.
Listening creates space for some of that wider story to emerge. Sometimes what initially looks like the problem isn’t the whole story at all; and sometimes, as the story unfolds, we begin to understand the person and their difficulties in a very different way.
Empathy
Rogers placed considerable importance on empathy.
For me, empathy is not merely feeling an emotional connection toward somebody; nor does it mean agreeing with everything someone says or does. It is the attempt to understand how the world might look from another person’s perspective, and that requires imagination and openness.
I may never have experienced exactly what another person has experienced, but I can try to understand what that experience means to them.
What does it feel like from where they are standing? What might they be afraid of? What have they come to believe about themselves as a result of what has happened to them? What are they struggling to put into words?
There is something deeply human about being understood in this way; and I think most of us know, from our own lives, how different it feels to talk to someone who is genuinely trying to understand us rather than simply waiting for their turn to speak.
The Importance of Not Knowing
One of the less obvious things that listening has taught me is how important it is to tolerate not knowing.
As practitioners, there can sometimes be a pressure to have answers. Our training gives us theories, models and techniques, and all of these have their place. They can help us make sense of what we encounter and provide useful ways of thinking about people’s difficulties; but there are times when the most helpful thing we can do is resist the urge to explain too quickly.
People sometimes need time to discover their own meaning; and if I offer an interpretation too early, I may unintentionally take that opportunity away from them.
There is a certain discipline in being able to sit with uncertainty and remain curious.
To think:
I don’t fully understand this yet, and to be comfortable enough to stay with the person while we find out.
Over time, I have come to see that not knowing isn’t necessarily a weakness. Sometimes it is what allows us to listen properly.
Being Heard
Over the years, I have become increasingly aware of the difference between giving someone an opportunity to speak and someone actually feeling heard. They are not necessarily the same thing. Someone can talk for a long time without feeling that the other person has really been with them.
To feel heard is something different. It is to experience another person as genuinely interested in your inner world, and that can create a sense of recognition.
Sometimes, simply being able to speak openly can help thoughts that have been confused or overwhelming begin to take shape; and something that seemed impossible to articulate can become clearer simply because there is finally somewhere safe to say it.
And sometimes, being heard can be the beginning of hearing yourself differently.
That is something I find particularly powerful about therapy.
We don’t always need another person to give us the answer. Sometimes we need someone to stay with us long enough for us to begin finding our own words.
Authenticity
Another important part of Rogers’ thinking is authenticity, or what he described as congruence; and for me, this raises an interesting question about what it really means for a therapist to be present with another person; to become truly aligned with one another.
Therapy isn’t simply a professional performance.
Of course, knowledge, training and professional boundaries are essential, but the therapist also brings their own humanity into the room.
That doesn’t mean making therapy about ourselves. It means recognising that the therapeutic relationship is, at its heart, a meeting between two human beings.
Within appropriate professional boundaries, there can still be warmth, honesty, genuine interest, and even moments of humour, sadness, uncertainty and connection.
I think people can often sense when someone is genuinely present with them and when they are simply performing the role of being a therapist.
Rogers’ emphasis on authenticity has made me think a great deal about that distinction.
Listening Beyond Words
Some of the most important communication in therapy doesn’t necessarily happen through words. There can be hesitation, long silences and even discernible changes in someone’s tone of voice.
Communication can convey a sudden emotion,
something that is repeatedly avoided, or a moment when someone’s expression changes, even though their words remain the same.
Sometimes what isn’t said can be as interesting as what is said. Good listening, therefore, involves paying attention not only to the content of a person’s story, but also to the emotional experience surrounding it.
That means becoming comfortable with silence.
There can be a temptation, particularly in therapy, to fill every quiet moment, but silence can be useful.
Sometimes a person needs a few moments to find the worda for what they are experiencing, especially something that is difficult to put into language. Sometimes the silence itself is telling us something.
For me, learning not to rush in has been an important part of learning to listen.
What I Learned
Looking back over my years in psychotherapy, I think one of the most valuable lessons I have taken from the person-centred tradition is that we should never underestimate the importance of simply being present with another person.
Techniques have their place, knowledge matters tremendously, and professional training is paramount to doing good work; but none of these removes the fundamental importance of the therapeutic relationship.
Carl Rogers helped articulate something that I have come to appreciate more and more through experience, which is that people are not simply collections of symptoms or problems waiting to be fixed. They are complex, developing human beings. They have histories, hopes, fears, contradictions and possibilities; and sometimes we don’t need to rush to change them.
Sometimes we need to understand them first.
Perhaps that is why listening remains such an important part of how I think about psychotherapy. To listen carefully is to give another person our attention. It is to communicate, without necessarily saying the words:
Your experience matters. I am interested in understanding you. You don’t have to make sense of everything immediately.
And perhaps that is one of the simplest and most profound forms of human connection.
Sometimes the most valuable thing we can offer another person isn’t an answer. It is our genuine attention.