The Cost of Not Being Heard: A Story from the Therapy Room

The distrust Mira carried into the room was palpable.

“It’s not personal,” she said early on. “I just don’t believe in all this nonsense about therapists and counselors.” And she had reasons.

She had already been to at least five professionals. One told them to do this, another insisted they had to change that, and none of it made sense to her. No one seemed to truly understand what was happening.

“So why are you here?” I asked.

She stared at me in surprise. The question caught her off guard.

Usually, she explained later, therapists immediately tried to convince her why they were the right ones, why this time would be different. They laid down guidelines and instructions, many of which felt detached from anything she recognized as authentic or meaningful.

In this kind of work, however, there are very few directives. The core of the process is listening, curiosity, and asking questions. Not persuading. Not instructing. Not securing the next appointment.

Professional therapy requires genuine interest in what is unfolding in front of you, without personal involvement and without pressure to “keep coming back.”

Who Wants Therapy and Who Doesn’t

“It’s Avner who’s pushing,” Mira finally said.

“Yes,” Avner agreed. “We don’t really have a choice. We have to go to counseling, and we heard you’re okay.” Avner is a simple, straightforward man. Not flattering, not defensive. “Okay” is a compliment I’m perfectly comfortable with.

“I told her I can’t go on like this,” he continued, “and I dragged her here by the ears.” He exaggerated slightly, but what he meant was clear. He wanted therapy. She did not.

And so we began.

From the very first moments, Mira sensed something different. She noticed the listening. Slowly, cautiously, she opened up to the idea that it might actually be possible to speak without immediately being analyzed, criticized, or labeled.

Avner, on the other hand, struggled. Whenever I invited him to speak about his own feelings or needs, he redirected the conversation back to Mira. What she was doing wrong. How she saw things incorrectly. Why her behavior was the problem.

I found myself repeatedly redirecting him, insisting that we focus on him, on his inner world. That he speak about himself without it becoming a critique of her.

When Listening Feels Like Being Blocked

In theory, I was clear. It is legitimate to think whatever you think. It is legitimate to want whatever you want. My intention was to help each of them speak from their own place and eventually find a shared language.

In practice, I held too tightly to how things “should” be done.

Instead of loosening my grip and allowing Avner to fully vent in the way he needed to, even if it meant circling again and again around Mira, I blocked him. I tried to steer the process toward self-reflection before he was ready for it.

He felt that.

More than that, something else happened. For the first time, Avner began to sense that perhaps he, too, had influence over the dynamic between them. That his constant focus on diagnosing Mira’s flaws might be feeding the very cycle he despised.

And that is where the story stopped.

After only a handful of sessions, Avner, the one who had dragged Mira to therapy, announced that he didn’t see where this was going and wanted to find another therapist. Mira, by contrast, was deeply disappointed. For the first time, she said, she felt genuinely heard. Something real was finally happening.

I tried to ask how decisions were made between them. Whether Avner usually decided, whether Mira had room to express herself. But there was no space left for those questions.

Why I’m Sharing This

We all shift between roles throughout the day. Sometimes we listen. Sometimes we need to be heard. Sometimes we want understanding, and sometimes we want to pour everything out without interruption.

To the listening part of you, learn from my mistake. Do not cling too tightly to teaching the other person how they should express themselves. Listen. Even if what they say seems unhelpful, repetitive, or misguided. The greater harm is not in what they say, but in losing their trust.

And to the part of you that vents, know this: when someone gently creates space, reflects back, and holds up a mirror, and you suddenly realize you may need to look inward, that person likely cares deeply about your well-being. But this only works if you feel fully heard first.

One more thing.

Avoid people who rush to give you practical directives like “you must schedule quality time,” “you should prepare his lunch,” “you need to move houses,” or “the couch color is her decision.” These kinds of instructions rarely touch the real issue. And they almost never work.

Good luck.

Pinchas Hirsch
Couples Counselor, M.F.C.