I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re the kind of person who starts sentences with “You know what you should do?” — please know I’m already plotting my escape. Politely. Silently. With a smile so tight it could slice through granite.
Unsolicited advice is the glitter of social interaction. It shows up uninvited, sticks to everything, and somehow keeps resurfacing weeks later when you thought you’d finally cleaned it all up. And yet, there it is: from relatives who just “read a great article on gut health” to strangers in line at Walgreens who think my choice of cough syrup is a cry for help. Advice is the currency of busybodies, and apparently, I’m the jackpot.
Now, let me be clear — I’m not talking about genuine help offered with love. I’ve had people in my life offer insights that have literally changed the course of my career, my relationships, and even my internal monologue. But that’s not the kind of advice I’m at war with. I’m talking about the kind that swoops in like an unsolicited browser notification. Loud, inconvenient, and completely unnecessary.
If you’ve ever mentioned a minor inconvenience — say, you’re tired — and someone immediately responds with, “You should take magnesium, cut dairy, and do hot yoga,” you’ve likely been drafted into this war too. Spoiler: I’m not going to do hot yoga. I can barely commit to reheating leftovers.
It’s especially rich coming from people who know little to nothing about me. I’ve been told how to better manage stress by someone who once cried in a Chili’s over boneless wings. I’ve had parenting tips hurled at me by people who have never owned so much as a houseplant, let alone a tenacious, emotionally complex chihuahua named Daisy. And don’t even get me started on the medical advice. As a former nurse, there is nothing quite like someone with a subscription to Goop telling you how to “alkalize your body” because “cancer feeds on acid.”
Ma’am. Please.
My favorite genre of unsolicited advice is the backhanded upgrade. This is when someone doesn’t just offer help — they suggest that everything you’ve ever done is slightly wrong and this one weird trick will fix your entire life. It starts with, “Have you ever tried…” and ends with me desperately nodding while mentally crawling out of my own skin. Yes, Carol, I have tried therapy, journaling, green juice, and vision boarding. And sometimes, I still feel like microwaving Pop-Tarts and doomscrolling until my soul shrivels. Let me live.
Then there are the people who give advice purely to assert dominance. You know the type — they deliver each suggestion with the confidence of a TED Talk, even when they’re demonstrably wrong. These are the same folks who told me I shouldn’t adopt a dog during COVID, and now Daisy runs my household like a tiny furry despot. So thank you, but no thanks.
But here’s the rub: despite my disdain, I’m terrible at deflecting this stuff. I want to be the person who says, “Thanks, but I’ve got it handled.” Instead, I smile, nod, and say things like, “That’s interesting!” while my internal monologue is screaming, “WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING?” I was raised to be polite — and if you’ve ever been a marginalized person trying to survive in a space not built for you, you know that being agreeable is sometimes a survival mechanism. I don’t want to offend. I don’t want to escalate. I just want to buy my allergy meds in peace.
And so, the war continues.
Matthew finds this all wildly entertaining. He has seen me — a grown man, a cancer survivor, a hotel general manager with two graduate degrees — be cornered by a 22-year-old barista explaining how I “need to try microdosing to deal with stress.” His eyes gleam as he watches me try to politely exit the conversation without combusting. Later, he’ll mimic the voice with just enough sass to make me laugh until I forget how mad I was. That’s love. That’s therapy. That’s a man who deserves all the Amazon Prime accounts I’ve ever signed up for.
To be fair, I’m not totally innocent. I’ve caught myself doing it too. You hear someone say, “I’ve been so tired lately,” and suddenly you’re recommending magnesium like a damn snake oil salesman. It’s human nature. We want to help. We want to feel useful. But the truth is, most of the time, people just want to be heard — not fixed.
So these days, I try to pause before I launch into problem-solving mode. I ask, “Do you want advice or just to vent?” And I’ve learned the power of the simple reply: “That sucks. I’m sorry you’re going through it.” It doesn’t fix anything, but it validates. It honors. And sometimes, that’s the real magic.
I’m learning — slowly — to draw firmer lines. To say, “I’m not looking for suggestions right now.” Or, if I’m feeling especially spicy, “That sounds like something that works for you, but I’m not interested.” And when I do that, I feel a little bit stronger. Like maybe I’m finally winning a battle or two in this never-ending war.
And if I’m really feeling brave? I let Daisy handle it. Nothing shuts down an unsolicited advice session like a snarling six-pound diva barking her head off while refusing to be picked up. She may not be licensed, but she’s the only therapist I’ve ever trusted with my whole heart — and she’s got a better success rate than most life coaches I’ve met.
So to all my fellow warriors out there, dodging “life hacks” and miracle cures like emotional landmines: I see you. I salute you. And if anyone tells you how to live your life today, feel free to look them square in the eye and say, “Oh, I only take advice from small dogs in rhinestones. Thanks though!”
Stay strong. Stay sarcastic. And may your unsolicited advice be as fleeting as a bad TikTok trend.