The Lost Art of Listening

I’m sitting in a café as I write this, watching a couple across the room. What stands out is that they’re actually listening to each other. It’s in their body language, leaning in, attentive, present. And I realized: this has never really happened with me.

I’ve started noticing this more than ever. Recently, I met my best friend for lunch after a year and a half. The conversation felt dry. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts and stories; the whole exchange was one-sided. It’s not just him; another friend later admitted they’d been so deep in their own head that they hadn’t really listened to me. Awareness is good, but it was too late. By then, what I wanted to share stayed unspoken.

Over time, I’ve stopped coming to conversations with things I want to express. As an introvert and a good listener, I’m often taken for granted. People later realize I haven’t shared much, but that’s because they’ve been talking the whole time.

I’ve also noticed a common pattern: when I do get the space to share, conversations are quickly redirected back to the other person. This happens often with my parents, but also with others. Another version is when I share an experience, and someone compares it to their own, effectively downplaying my feelings. What I’m going through in that moment isn’t something to minimize.

It’s been years since I’ve had a truly meaningful, two-sided conversation outside of therapy. The result? I no longer feel inclined to express myself.

At the root of this is a lack of education about listening. Being a good listener is the foundation of deep connection and support. Without it, conversations become monologues, and real connection fades.