Don’t Call It Advice: Just Call It Love

The other day, my girlfriend looked me straight in the eye and said, “You give the best advice.” Now, I get it—that was meant to be a compliment. But I had to stop her right there.

“Hold on,” I said. “Let’s not call it advice.”

Because here’s the thing: I loathe that word. Not because I don’t love talking through things with people I care about—but because advice implies something you didn’t ask for. It suggests I have a solution, a fix, a Band-Aid wrapped in wisdom. And most of the time, when someone opens up about their pain, they’re not asking for instructions—they’re asking to be heard.

When you’re hurting, what you really want is someone to listen. Not someone to fix you. Not someone to correct you. Just someone to be there, quietly holding space for your voice, your emotions, your experience. That’s what I try to do. I don’t say, “Here’s what you should do.” I say, “Here’s what I went through, and here’s what it taught me.”

Because the words we speak to others should come from a place of empathy and love—not ego and superiority.

Too often, we rush to hand out advice like free samples. “Well, I told you so.” “You should’ve done this.” “If it were me…” Ugh. That burns my biscuits. It’s not helpful, and it sure isn’t healing. If you’re lucky enough to have someone trust you with their pain, honor that privilege by simply listening.

You are a gift. And the people in your life? They’re gifts too. If you truly cherish a friendship or relationship, you owe it to them to slow down and just listen. Not everything someone says is personal. Not every conversation needs to be a debate or a solution-seeking mission. Sometimes people just want to know their voice matters. That they matter.

One of the greatest acts of love is presence. Real, open-hearted presence.

I have deep respect for everyone who’s joined me on this wild ride called life. Whether they’ve been here for years or just for a season, I try to honor them by showing up. When they hurt, I don’t jump in with a “fix-it” kit. I just let them talk. Because if you really tune in—really listen—there’s truth in the tone of someone’s voice, in their word choice, even in a late-night text that just says, “You up?”

Here’s the thing though—words are powerful. More powerful than we often realize. They can heal, yes. But they can also cut. Words can leave bruises deeper and longer lasting than anything physical. And once they’re out, there’s no hitting “undo.”

So be mindful—of what you say, how you say it, and most importantly, why you’re saying it. Ask yourself: is this truth… or just my opinion?

That’s another one of my pet peeves, by the way. Let’s get this straight: truth is not the same as opinion. Truth is backed by evidence, by science, by consistent and proven results. Opinions? They’re personal. They’re colored by our own beliefs, biases, and experiences. And that’s okay! We’re all unique—we’re supposed to see the world differently. But calling your opinion the truth? That’s where things get messy.

As my mama would say, “The proof is in the puddin’.” And if you don’t have proof? Then what you’ve got is perspective—not truth.

And that’s perfectly valid—but say it like it is.

So when you speak to your friends, your partner, your people—remember this: you don’t always have to be right. You don’t need to “win” the conversation. You just need to be real, be kind, and be present. When you feel compelled to share, ask yourself—am I sharing this to help? To connect? Or just to be heard?

Your words hold power. Use them with care. Speak with love, listen with grace, and only give “advice” if someone asks you for it. Otherwise, just be a safe place to land. That, right there, is more valuable than any advice ever could be.