Witnessing vs. Fixing: The Power of Being Seen

This morning at the gym, my trainer stood close as I pushed through the last few difficult reps of a set. I doubted myself and I wanted to quit. Her hand hovered just under the bar, not lifting it, simply there in case. Later she reminded me that she had not actually lifted the weight at all. What made all the difference was knowing she was right there for me.

This got me thinking about the power of presence and attunement. We are stronger when another is willing to witness us in our struggle and hold space for our experience. The simple act of being held in presence steadies and strengthens us.

Again and again, I hear stories of how painful it can be to feel misunderstood, unseen, or unheard. Most of us can recall times when we were feeling distressed and reached out to someone in vulnerability, only to be met with advice, attempts to cheer us up, questions, minimization or distraction. Even when well-intended, those responses can leave us feeling more isolated than connected.

Why We Default to Fixing (or Questioning, Invalidating, Avoiding)

When we sit with another’s pain, we also feel it echo inside of us. It might stir our own unease, bring up memories of times we were not supported, or simply activate our nervous system in ways that feel hard to tolerate. In those moments, fixing can feel like relief. If I give you an answer, or point you toward a solution, then maybe both of us can feel better more quickly.

Culturally, many of us have been taught that our value comes from what we do, what we produce, and how quickly we can solve problems. When someone shares their struggle, silence can feel unbearable. We rush to fill it with advice, questions, or solutions because doing feels safer than simply being. And when we are unsure what to say, we may pull away, avoiding the discomfort altogether, rather than stay with something that has no quick answer.

All of this is deeply human. These reflexes often come from care, from wanting to ease suffering. But the paradox is that true connection does not come from speeding things up or making discomfort disappear. It comes from slowing down, staying present, and allowing what is here to simply be. That is the work of witnessing.

The Practice of Noticing

One of the most powerful ways to begin shifting out of fixing and into witnessing is by practicing awareness in your own body. For a week, or even just a couple of days, try noticing what happens inside you when someone you care about is struggling.

When a colleague shares about a hard season, when a friend is upset, when your partner is wrestling with a problem, or when your child is facing a challenge, pause and pay attention. What stirs in your body?

• Does your heart begin to race?

• Do you feel a pit in your stomach?

• Is there an impulse to jump in with words, or to pull away?

• Do you notice a part of you that wants to rescue, solve, or reassure quickly?

  
  

Instead of moving immediately into action, see if you can simply hold this tension for a moment. Notice the sensations. Witness your own urge to fix. Because the practice of witnessing begins with self.

Here is the deeper truth. When we rush in to rescue, we may unintentionally send subtle messages. Our action can communicate, “You cannot handle this on your own.” Or our solution can land as criticism, as if we are saying, “You are doing it wrong, let me show you how.” Fixing can also send another signal: that what you are feeling is not acceptable, that it needs to be changed. This often creates more stress, not less. Witnessing offers something entirely different: your experience makes sense, and you matter.

We can begin to shift this by checking in more directly with the people around us. Ask: What do you need right now? Do you want me to just listen? To witness? To validate? Or are you actually looking for advice or concrete support?

One of the most useful lessons I ever received from a mentor was this: unsolicited advice is criticism. At first, hearing this created agitation in my own system. I had built so much of my identity around being helpful that it was hard to hear that my “help” could sometimes land as harm.

My own history also shaped the way I relate to struggle. I grew up with a high level of adversity and inconsistent support, and that left me with an internal conflict. When I see my children wrestle, I often feel the urge to rescue or fix so they can have more comfort than I did.

But over time, I have learned that stepping in too quickly can land as subtle rejection, as if I am saying, “You are not capable.” So I practice pausing, holding the tension in my own body, and asking instead: Would you like my help, or would you rather figure it out on your own? More often than not, they want the space to struggle through it, knowing I am there if needed. Just like my trainer in the gym, my presence matters more than taking over.

Because learning and resilience happen in the struggle. And rescuing is not the opposite of ignoring. The opposite is being attuned, present, and in relationship to.

What Witnessing Looks Like

Witnessing lives in the realm of being rather than doing. It does not require answers or strategies. Instead, it asks us to slow down, soften, and stay present.

Resmaa Menakem, in My Grandmother’s Hands, reminds us that healing begins in the body. Practices like mindful breathing, settling, and simply noticing sensations allow us to be with another person without needing to shift or change their experience.

Simple practices can make a profound difference:

• Mirroring: Reflecting back someone’s words so they feel heard (a core practice in Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg).

• Validation: Naming what you notice (“That sounds really heavy,” or “It makes sense you would feel that way”).

• Attunement: Deb Dana’s work on the Polyvagal Ladder shows us that co-regulation happens when one nervous system signals safety to another. Just your calm presence can be healing.

  
  

Witnessing communicates, I see you. You make sense. You are not alone.

Why Witnessing Heals

Brené Brown writes in Atlas of the Heart that connection requires us to be seen and known for who we really are. When we witness instead of fix, question, invalidate, or avoid, we create that possibility. The nervous system relaxes, defenses soften, and connection deepens.

Being seen as we are, even in struggle, reminds us of our inherent worth and opens space for healing. Solutions may come later, but presence often matters most in the moment.

A Simple Practice

Next time someone shares something vulnerable:

1. Pause before responding.

2. Notice your urge to fix, question, or minimize.

3. Try instead to reflect what you heard or simply acknowledge the feeling.

You may be surprised at how this deepens connection, sometimes more than any solution ever could.