Can We Hear What We Cannot See? Honoring the art of listening this World Mental Health Day 

For a moment, picture an ordinary day on a vessel. A fellow crewmember injured his arm, and it looks like a fracture. What do we do? We arrange medical attention, of course. We do not usually ask him to prove that it hurts before responding with care. It is almost instinctual.

Now, think of a time when someone (a crewmember, a family member, a friend, anyone) shared, “I haven't been sleeping,” “I don't feel like myself,” “I'm struggling to cope,” or “I don't think I'm okay.”

Do we respond to these concerns with the same instinct?

“Why is it easier to believe what we can see than what someone tells us they feel?”

Is it that we trust our eyes more than our ears?

A physical injury gives us something very concrete: a wound, a fracture, a fever, a scan. Psychological distress may not have an equally visible marker. Yet invisibility may be only the first roadblock.

If someone trusts you enough to share that they are still grieving a loss from years ago, or tells you they are burned out, exhausted, or feeling hopeless, what would your instinct be?

Would you be curious to know more about it? Would you wonder whether their situation justifies how they feel? Would you remember how you handled something similar and find yourself comparing their experience with your own?

These thoughts may not come from a lack of care, rather, our own experiences become the lens through which we understand someone else's.

How likely are we to simply accept their experience and give them the space to express it? Have you ever received that space yourself?

Too often, we are hurried listeners to someone's experience. We minimize the concern, offer our expertise, or rush to fix it before we understand it.
We may feel that a distressed person needs our expertise, when what they may need first is our ear. An ear that strives to understand.

“How do we understand someone?”

One of the simplest ways is to ask rather than assume. Asking, “What do you need right now?” or “How can I support you?” It can be a small but powerful way of creating that space.

However, truly hearing someone's experience may ask something of us.

It may challenge a long-held assumption. It may make us reconsider what we thought we knew.
Sometimes, we may not know how to make sense of distress on our own. Psychological support can offer a space to explore what we are experiencing without first having to prove that it is real or serious enough.

For seafarers and other frontline workers, this space can be especially valuable. Long periods away from familiar support systems, demanding schedules, and limited privacy can make it harder to access someone who can listen without judgement. Accessible well-being support channels can help bridge that gap.

Spaces dedicated to well-being can also help us better understand those we care about — recognizing what may be difficult for them without comparing, assuming, or deciding what they need. Perhaps listening also begins with ourselves. We may notice changes in our sleep, energy, mood, or behavior long before we find the words to describe what is happening. Learning to pay attention to these signals, and having accessible tools and resources to make sense of them, can help us understand when we may need care, and when reaching out for support might be the next step.

After all, be it at sea or ashore, we don't always know what someone is carrying simply by looking at them.