Advice Isn’t Always for You (But It’s Always Useful)

“She generally gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom followed it.” - Lewis Carroll

Advice is a funny thing. We seek it out, we give it freely, and we’re often terrible at taking our own. But what actually makes good advice? Honestly, I’m still figuring that out, so bear with me. I think, though, that it’s a topic that needs a new kind of light shed on it. Specifically, WHAT is it and HOW is it used?

We often talk about mentorship, learning from others, and how crucial that is to personal and professional development. Humans’ ability to pass on knowledge has allowed us, as a species, to build on each other’s experiences rather than learning every lesson from scratch. That’s the genius of humanity and society.

But with that comes responsibility, on both sides of the advice equation.

When giving advice, we carry the responsibility to:

• Offer it with genuine, helpful intent.

• Be mindful of how the other person may receive it.

And when receiving advice, we owe it to the giver to:

• Be respectful and grateful—they’re trying to help you be “better” (in their eyes, at least, which may or may not align with your own version of better).

• Take in the advice thoughtfully—not dismissing it outright but also not accepting it blindly.

You won’t always get it right, but keeping these points in mind gives you a better shot at an exchange of real value.

The Challenge of Giving Advice

Giving good advice is tough. There’s a line I once came across (sorry guys, I don’t recall where) that stuck with me:
Most advice is the advice the giver would have needed to hear if they were in your shoes.

Sit with that for a second. It means that, often, advice says more about the person giving it than the person receiving it.

Even the most well-meaning advice is often filtered through our personal experiences and values. We tend to give the advice we wish someone had given us, without fully considering if it fits the other person’s context. Empathetic people—those who can really step into someone else’s shoes—are often better at giving tailored advice. But even empathy isn’t a guarantee. To really give meaningful, tailored advice, you need curiosity, patience, and reflection.

Before giving advice, it’s worth pausing and asking yourself:

• Am I solving their problem, or am I solving what I would see as the problem in their situation?
  Their version of the challenge might be entirely different from how you’d experience it.

• Do I fully understand their goal or desired outcome?
  If you don’t know what they’re really aiming for, you might be fixing the wrong thing.

• What assumptions am I making about their values or priorities?
  Maybe you’re projecting your own definition of success or risk tolerance onto them without realizing it.

• Have I asked enough questions to understand their constraints?
  Emotional, situational, financial, etc. Without this, advice can easily miss the mark.

• Am I offering advice because they asked for it—or because I feel the urge to fix?
  Sometimes people aren’t looking for answers, they might just need to feel heard (this is one that I need to ask myself more often…).

When we skip these questions, we risk offering advice that sounds thoughtful but lands flat. Taking the time to step out of our own story and into theirs gives us a far better chance of giving advice that actually resonates.

The Challenge of Receiving Advice

I’ve come to see two distinct kinds of advice that tend to trip us up:

1. Advice that’s easy to hear, but isn’t right for you.

2. Advice that could genuinely help you, but is difficult to accept—because of timing, delivery, your emotional state, or your relationship with the person giving it.

Advice is deeply personal, both for the giver and the receiver. You can hear advice that is theoretically good but practically misaligned and leaves you feeling frustrated or disconnected from yourself. A realization I came to through two separate but related aha moments.  

The first was that quote above about advice being self-referential. The second was standing in a spa, staring at one of those “inspirational” posters that told me to “Unwind.” I had an immediate, visceral reaction to it—the word itself felt repellent. I had NO desire to “unwind” like a flaccid string in a heap on the ground (and yes, I choose those words deliberately, it was that off-putting). No one else I was with thought twice about the poster, but I couldn’t shake the discomfort. Eventually, I realized why: I don’t need to unwind, I need to still. I crave that calm-pond energy—quiet, composed, steady in lieu of the constant churn in my head. Since that moment, I’ve approached relaxation differently: by seeking stillness I’ve changed how I care for myself.

That poster, meant to help, helped most by being so wrong that it forced me to get clearer on what I actually needed. It’s a fascinating way to think about advice—not as inherently good or bad—but as potentially misaligned. Advice might be brilliant in general, but that doesn’t mean it’s brilliant for you.

On the other hand, when advice feels off but might hold a nugget of truth, I turn to a lesson from Sheila Heen’s Thanks for the Feedback: The Science and Art of Receiving Feedback Well. (The subtitle alone is gold: “Even when it’s off base, unfair, poorly delivered, and frankly, you’re not in the mood.” Who hasn’t been there?!)

One of Heen’s tools is the concept of the Gold Mirror and the Black Mirror.

Here’s how it works: when you get tough feedback, you take it to a trusted confidant—someone who supports you unconditionally but will also tell you the hard truth. Start with: “Gold Mirror time: listen to what this person just said—how ridiculous is that?” And you vent. You talk about how that person is WAY off base. How could they ever dare say that to you, to YOU or all people?! Don’t they know you’re already masterful at it/indifferent to that metric/more knowledgeable than they could ever be?!

Phew, that feels a lot better now, doesn’t it.

Then, after a breath, you switch gears: “Black Mirror time. What’s the part of this I actually need to hear?”

I have a friend who helps me with this regularly. Together, we sift through the noise and find the real message, even when I don’t initially want to admit it’s there. Every time we do this, our friendship deepens and I grow from the conversation. Not necessarily from the advice itself, but from what we uncover together.

I often find that it’s not the advice itself that helps me most, but the conversation about the advice that reveals the real lesson.

The Art of Receiving Advice

So what about advice that’s well-intentioned, well-delivered, and easy to receive, irrespective of if it’s right for you.

It’s important to recognize the gift in that moment. The person offering advice is often trying to help you avoid pain or difficulty—and that’s worth appreciating.

Receiving advice well is its own skill. It’s about listening attentively, reflecting it back so they know they’ve been heard, and following up later to share how you engaged with their input (even if you chose a different path to get there). Gratitude isn’t just politeness, it reinforces to the other person that their time and effort mattered. This ensures both parties come away feeling better off for having had the experience. Win win.

Once you’ve expressed genuine appreciation, then it’s time for deeper reflection:

• Is this advice aligned with the person I am—and who I want to become?

• Is the goal they’re guiding me toward even the one I’m aiming for?

• Are there alternative ways to achieve the same outcome that feel more aligned to me?

For example, maybe someone advises you to be more open and vulnerable at work to build stronger professional relationships. But when you reflect, you realize what you’re actually after is trust and vulnerability is just one potential path toward that goal. Perhaps focusing on building deeper care and curiosity about your team could get you there more authentically. Or maybe the advice helps you see that you’ve been more emotionally closed off lately than you realized.

A Lens for Growth

At its best, advice is a direct, actionable push. At its worst, it’s still an invitation to pause, assess where you are, where you’re headed, and which obstacles might be standing in your way.

Advice is never the whole answer. It’s someone else’s insight offered to help you think more critically about your journey. The real growth happens in how you process it—and who you invite to help you hold up those mirrors.