“Resilience isn’t about never feeling rattled — it’s about knowing how to steady yourself when someone’s words threaten to knock you off balance.”
You’re excited about something. You share your plans — maybe a project, a dream, a bold step into the unknown — and before you’ve finished speaking, someone jumps in with advice you never asked for.
Sometimes that advice is thoughtful and helpful. Other times, it’s deflating.
This happened to me recently when I told a friend I was planning my first-ever live event — a talk about my concept for RECASAS — and that I’d be streaming it LIVE on YouTube. I mentioned I’d never done this before, but I was excited and planned to invite everyone I know. Her immediate response: “Don’t do a live stream for your first event.” She was concerned about possible technical issues and how they might affect me and RECASAS.
In the moment, I simply replied that such issues can happen at any live event. Later, though, I thought about how quickly her words had shifted my energy from excitement to defensiveness. Offering to help me organize the event, or even to come and support me, was never mentioned. When you’re doing something daring, it’s the safety net you need — not someone creating more fear.
This was similar to what happened before my first-ever poetry slam. About three weeks before the event — during our family’s Christmas gathering at my mom’s house last year — my brother-in-law told me I should keep in mind that no one might like my poem and that I could bomb on stage — without even taking the time to hear it. Listening to the poem first and giving me constructive feedback would have been so much better. I told him immediately that this advice was not helpful.
The New York Times recently wrote that unsolicited advice is, in its simplest form, a boundary violation — you’ve involved yourself in someone’s life without an invitation. It’s not always malicious; often, it’s rooted in the giver’s own experiences or fears. But because it’s filtered through their lens, it may be irrelevant, or even discouraging. Research shows unsolicited advice can harm relationships, and in professional settings, it’s more likely to be ignored or perceived as self-serving.
For those of us who have lived through trauma, this dynamic can be especially triggering. Too many times, advice is delivered from a place of authority without curiosity — psychiatrists, in particular, often speak in moments of crisis as though they already know what’s best for you, without taking time to truly listen to your story. The result isn’t empowerment, but erasure.
That’s one of the reasons I’m building RECASAS: to create spaces where people don’t hand down “shoulds” from on high, but instead share their own experiences — what helped them, what didn’t — and allow each person to decide what resonates.
The NYT article offers a powerful alternative for anyone tempted to give advice: ask first, “Do you want my advice?” That single question gives the other person agency and turns an intrusion into an invitation. But until that habit spreads, it’s worth practicing how we respond when advice is already on the table.
Seven ways to respond when advice arrives uninvited:
- Pause before responding.
Take a breath to choose your words instead of reacting without thinking. - Name your focus.
“Right now I’m just sharing my excitement — I’m not looking for advice.” - Thank and acknowledge.
“I hear you, and I know you mean well… but I’m going to try it this way.” - Redirect with gratitude.
“I appreciate your concern. I’ve already decided to do it this way.” - Invite support instead.
“Thanks — what would really help is encouragement.” - Hold your ground gently.
“Technical issues can happen at any live event, but I’m prepared to take that risk.” - Shift to curiosity.
“That’s an interesting perspective — what experiences made you feel that way?”
Resilience isn’t about never feeling rattled. It’s about knowing how to steady yourself when someone’s words — however well-intentioned — threaten to knock you off balance. The next time advice arrives uninvited, remember: you can take it, leave it, or reframe the moment so you stay in the driver’s seat.
Photo by Tnarg on Pexels — “Person Balancing on Narrow Bridge in Autumn”. Pexels+5Pexels+5Pexels+5
