Why sometimes the best thing to say isn’t perfect, just honest
I used to put a lot of pressure on myself to say the right thing. Especially when someone asked for feedback or opened up about something. I’d think through every word. Try to be helpful. Try not to hurt feelings. Try to land the message just right. But more and more, I’m learning that feedback doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real.
And being real doesn’t always look polished. Sometimes it sounds clumsy. Sometimes it lands weird. Sometimes you say something and realise a second later it wasn’t what the other person needed. But that’s part of it. Feedback isn’t a script. It’s a relationship.
Trying to help can get in the way of helping
When we care about someone, we want our words to be useful. We want to be supportive, thoughtful, insightful. But sometimes that desire to be helpful makes us overthink. We get stuck trying to find the exact phrasing or soften things so much that the truth gets lost.
And then there’s the other side when we blurt something out without checking in, assuming it’s what the person needs. Neither extreme feels great. So where’s the middle?
For me, it’s been learning to ask first. “Do you want feedback or do you just want to be heard?” That question alone has saved so many conversations from going sideways. Because not everyone wants to be fixed. Sometimes they just want company in the mess.
Feedback is about presence, not perfection
I’ve started thinking of feedback more like an offering than a correction. Like saying, “Here’s what I’m seeing take what’s helpful, leave what’s not.” It’s not about being right. It’s about showing up with curiosity and care.
There’s also a kind of feedback that’s not about advice at all. It’s about reflection. Saying, “Here’s how I experienced that,” or “Here’s what came up for me when you said that.” That kind of honesty, even if it’s messy, creates space for dialogue instead of defensiveness.
When silence says more than words
Sometimes the most powerful feedback is no feedback. Just listening. Just sitting with someone’s story without jumping in with an opinion. It takes restraint to not rush in with a fix or a take. But that restraint can be a form of deep respect.
There have been times I wanted to say something wise, but I didn’t have the words. So I said that. “I don’t really know what to say, but I’m here.” And you’d be surprised how often that’s more than enough.
Being okay with getting it wrong
Giving feedback is vulnerable. You’re putting something out there that might not land well. You risk misunderstanding. You risk being misunderstood. But that risk is part of being in real relationship with someone.
You won’t always get it right. But if your intention is rooted in care, and you’re open to hearing how it landed, that’s what matters. That’s how trust is built not through flawless delivery, but through mutual honesty.
I don’t want to be someone who always knows what to say. I want to be someone who shows up, even when I don’t. Someone who speaks honestly, listens deeply, and keeps learning how to hold space better. Even if the words aren’t perfect.