That Happened To Me Too

I recently observed an interaction between two people that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

One person was sharing something difficult. You could tell the emotion it activated to share the details. Their voice carried a little more weight than usual. They were processing something meaningful to them.

The other person listened for a moment, but then, with genuine warmth and the best of intentions, jumped in, saying, "Oh, that happened to me too!" And, unfortunately, off they went... Their story. Their experience. Their version of the same struggle.

I watched the first person's face shift. They didn't leave. They didn't say anything unkind. They politely listened. But something had changed. The moment that was theirs, the space they had carefully stepped into, was gone. They never got to finish. They never got to land.

They walked away still carrying what they came in with.

What struck me wasn't that the second person did anything wrong. In fact, they did what most of us do instinctively. We hear something familiar. We connect. We share. We think, if I tell them I've been there too, they'll feel less alone.

The intention is good, but the execution quietly backfires. Because there is a significant difference between connecting and redirecting. Between saying I see you and saying watch this, it happened to me. The moment we make someone else's story the bridge to our own, we've stopped listening. We've started performing.

And the person who needed to be heard? They felt the shift. Even if they couldn't name it.

This Happens in Leadership Too

Leaders are not immune to this pattern. In fact, it shows up regularly, and the impact carries extra weight because of the power dynamic in the room.

A team member comes to a leader with a concern, a frustration, or a difficult experience. The leader, wanting to relate and build connection, says some version of "I know exactly how you feel, when I was in your position..." and the conversation pivots.

The team member nods. Says thank you. And quietly learns not to bring things to their leader anymore. Not because the leader was dismissive. But because they never felt truly heard.

Feeling heard is not the same as being agreed with. It's not the same as getting advice. It doesn't require the listener to have a matching story. It simply requires the listener to stay, to resist the pull to redirect, and let the other person fully arrive at the end of what they were trying to say.

What to Do Instead

When someone shares something hard, the instinct to relate is not wrong. But it should come after, not instead of.

Before you share your story, try this:

• Stay a little longer in their moment.

• Ask a question.

• Reflect back what you heard.

• Let them finish.

  
  

Something as simple as, "That sounds really difficult. How are you doing with it?" can be the difference between someone feeling seen and someone feeling like a conversation detour.

Once they've had space to land, your story may still be welcome. Connection can still happen. But the sequence matters enormously.

Finish their thought before you start yours.

Reflection Questions

• When someone shares something hard with me, do I make space — or do I fill it?

• How often do I redirect conversations back to my own experience without realizing it?

• Have I noticed team members stopping short, not finishing thoughts, or disengaging when they share?

• What would it look like to stay in someone else's moment for just a little longer?

  
  

The most powerful thing a leader can offer isn't a matching story.

It's the rare and generous gift of truly being heard.

You matter. Especially when you make space for someone else.

If you’re considering keynotes, professional development, workshops, or coaching to support trauma-responsive, human-centered leadership in your organization, feel free to reach out. Sometimes one good conversation changes the whole trajectory.