Find the Bundle of Feelings Behind the Simple Labels
Brad and his mother were often at odds over Brad’s job search. Brad’s mother called frequently to prod her son to send off résumés, to go to interviews, to network. For his part, Brad wasn’t much interested. He tuned his mother out or tried to change the subject.
He talked to a friend about the problem, and she counseled him not to withdraw but instead to tell his mother how he was feeling. “What good will that do?” Brad asked. “All I’m feeling is angry. She drives me crazy.” But Brad’s friend persisted, encouraging him to consider what he felt in addition to anger. Brad took on his friend’s challenge, and that evening he made a list of all the things he was feeling — about the job search, about his mother, and about himself.
He was stunned. About the job search, he was feeling hopeless, confused, and afraid. Putting off the search was Brad’s way of putting off some of the anxiety. About his mother, Brad’s feelings were more complex. On the one hand, he did indeed experience her constant prodding as a great annoyance. On the other hand, he also experienced it as a form of love and caring, and that meant a great deal to him.
About himself, Brad felt mostly shame. He believed he was letting his mother down and that, at least up until now, he was wasting his potential and his college education. But even as he felt shame, he felt some pride as well. Several of his friends had gotten jobs in management training, and Brad too could have taken this route. But that wasn’t what he wanted, and he was willing to accept the pressure of the search to hold out for something that fit him better. In the meantime, he was supporting himself with odd jobs, and had never asked for a penny from his mother.
By suggesting that Brad felt more than just anger, Brad’s friend offered him a powerful insight. Where he had originally seen only one emotion, Brad was able to find an entire spectrum of emotions.
In many situations, we are blinded to the complexity of our feelings by one strong feeling that trumps all the others. In Brad’s case it was anger. In other situations, and for different people, it may be a different emotion.
Simply becoming familiar with the spectrum of difficult-to-find feelings may trigger a flash of recognition for you. On p. 96, there is a partial list of some feelings that, though quite familiar in the abstract, are sometimes difficult for people to identify in themselves or express to others.
Don’t Let Hidden Feelings Block Other Emotions. Another common pattern is the existence of a feeling we are not even aware of, but that interferes with our experiences nonetheless.
Jamila had difficulty expressing her feelings of love toward her husband. “I know I love him,” she said. “He’s been generous and a good husband, putting up with all my stuff. But I have such a hard time letting him know that I love him.” Something was acting as a block, and she wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
* * *
A Landscape of Sometimes Hard-to-Find Feelings
* * *
Love
Affectionate, caring, close, proud, passionate
Anger
Frustrated, exasperated, enraged, indignant
Hurt
Let down, betrayed, disappointed, needy
Shame
Embarrassed, guilty, regretful, humiliated, self-loathing
Fear
Anxious, terrified, worried, obsessed, suspicious
Self-Doubt
Inadequate, unworthy, inept, unmotivated
Joy
Happy, enthusiastic, full, elated, content
Sadness
Bereft, wistful, joyless, depressed
Jealousy
Envious, selfish, covetous, anguished, yearning
Gratitude
Appreciative, thankful, relieved, admiring
Loneliness
Desolate, abandoned, empty, longing
* * *
At first, Jamila blamed herself: “Maybe this is just another way that I’m inadequate. A good wife can tell her husband she cares about him.” In our effort to coach her, we asked Jamila if she ever expressed other feelings about her husband. We were specifically interested in whether she expressed anger or disappointment. “You’re missing the point,” she asserted. “I’m trying to learn to express love. If anyone has the right to be angry, it’s my husband, for having to put up with me all the time.”
This comment raised some flags. In any marriage, in any relationship, each person will feel at least some anger toward the other. “Have you ever felt anger toward your husband?” we asked. “I suppose on occasion,” she finally said. “What would you say to your husband,” we asked, “if you could let your guard down completely, if you could vent at him — get everything off your chest — with absolutely no consequences attached?”
After a slow start, Jamila was surprisingly forthcoming: “Sure, I’m not the best wife, but it’s no wonder I run from you every chance I get! I’m sick of you playing the victim all the time, sick of your petty fears and constant complaining! I may not be perfect, but you’re not God’s gift either, pal! Do you ever stop to think of the impact your constant sniping has on me?!”
As soon as she finished, Jamila added, “Of course, I would never say any of that, and, really, I don’t know if any of it is very fair. . . .” It doesn’t matter if it’s fair or reasonable or rational. What matters is that it is there. You can imagine the effect her buried anger was having on Jamila’s ability to express love for her husband. Or, for that matter, on her attempts to express any feelings at all. The anger, though she kept it hidden even from herself, was getting in the way. Jamila put it well: “If I could just share some of that, it would be easy to balance it with the love I feel.”
Let’s hold for a moment the important question of whether and how to express feelings such as anger. We’ll return to this example in the section below on negotiating with your feelings.
Find the Feelings Lurking Under Attributions, Judgments, and Accusations
Peanuts aren’t nuts. Whales aren’t fish. Tomatoes aren’t vegetables. And attributions, judgments, and accusations aren’t feelings.
Lift the Lid on Attributions and Judgments. As we have seen, one danger of making attributions about the intentions of others is that it can lead to defensiveness and misunderstandings. A second danger is that the attributions themselves are so consuming that we fail to see the real feelings that are motivating them.
This happened to Emily in her relationship with her friend Roz. “Roz just isn’t warm,” Emily explains. “I helped her through her divorce, talked with her all the time, kept her company when she was feeling lonely. I was always there for her. And she never said a word of thanks.” Emily claims that she has already shared her feelings with Roz and that it didn’t help.
What, exactly, had Emily said to Roz? “I told Roz exactly how I felt. I was honest. I told her that at times she can be self-absorbed and thoughtless. And true to form, she went on the attack. She told me I was being oversensitive. That’s what you get when you talk about your feelings with someone like Roz. It’s not worth it.”
Notice what Emily has communicated. She said, “You are self-absorbed. You are thoughtless.” Both of these are judgments about Roz. Neither of them is a statement of how Emily feels. Prodded by this observation, Emily is able to focus more clearly on her own feelings: “I guess I feel hurt. I feel confused about the friendship. I feel angry at Roz. At some level I feel sort of embarrassed that I put all this work into a friendship that obviously wasn’t that important to her. How stupid can I be?”
* * *
We Translate Our Feelings Into
Judgments
“If you were a good friend you would have been there for me.”
Attributions
“Why were you trying to hurt me?”
Characterizations
“You’re just so inconsiderate.”
Problem-Solving
“The answer is for you to call me more often.”
* * *
The difference between judgments about others and statements of our own feelings is sometimes difficult to see. Judgments feel like feelings when we are saying them. They are motivated by anger or frustration or hurt, and the person on the receiving end understands very clearly that we are feeling something. Unfortunately, that person probably isn’t sure what we are feeling, and more important, is focused on the fact that we are judging, attributing, and blaming. That’s only natural.
While they may feel similar, there is a vast difference between “You are thoughtless and self-absorbed” and “I feel hurt, confused, and embarrassed.” Finding the feelings that are lurking around and under angry attributions and judgments is a key step in bringing feelings into a conversation effectively.
Use the Urge to Blame as a Clue to Find Important Feelings. A common complaint when we encourage people to talk in terms of joint contribution rather than blame is that the ensuing conversation leaves them feeling unsatisfied. It is as if they are stuck with a bowl of fat-free yogurt when they’re craving real ice cream. As a result, they tend to conclude that talking about contribution is not the real thing, that they really need to blame the other side.
What is unsatisfying, though, is not the failure to express blame, but the failure to express feelings. The urge to blame arises when the contribution system is explored in a feelings vacuum. When we can’t seem to get past needing to say, “Admit it! This was your fault!” we should recognize that as an important clue that we are sitting on unexpressed emotions. The sense of incompleteness that sometimes accompanies a conversation about contribution should not be a stimulus to blame, but a stimulus to search further for hidden feelings. Once those feelings are expressed (“Here’s what I’ve contributed, here’s what I think you’ve contributed, and, more important, I ended up feeling abandoned”), the urge to blame recedes.
Don’t Treat Feelings as Gospel: Negotiate with Them
A colleague of ours has two rules for expressing feelings. He begins by explaining rule number two: try to get everything you are feeling into the conversation. Most people are horrified by this rule. Surely, we think to ourselves, there are plenty of feelings that are better left unexpressed. Which brings our friend to rule number one: before saying what you are feeling, negotiate with your feelings.
Most of us assume that our feelings are static and nonnegotiable, and that if they are to be shared authentically, they must be shared “as is.” In fact, our feelings are based on our perceptions, and our perceptions (as we have seen in the preceding three chapters) are negotiable. As we see the world in new ways, our feelings shift accordingly. Before sharing feelings, then, it is crucial to negotiate — with ourselves.
What does it mean to negotiate with our feelings? Fundamentally, it involves a recognition that our feelings are formed in response to our thoughts. Imagine that while scuba diving, you suddenly see a shark glide into view. Your heart starts to pound and your anxiety skyrockets. You’re terrified, which is a perfectly rational and understandable feeling.
Now imagine that your marine biology training enables you to identify it as a Reef Shark, which you know doesn’t prey on anything as large as you. Your anxiety disappears. Instead you feel excited and curious to observe the shark’s behavior. It isn’t the shark that’s changed; it’s the story you tell yourself about what’s happening. In any given situation our feelings follow our thoughts.
This means that the route to changing your feelings is through altering your thinking. As we saw in the “What Happened?” Conversation, our thinking is often distorted in predictable ways, providing rich ground for negotiating with our emotions. First, we need to examine our own story. What is the story we are telling ourselves that is giving rise to how we feel? What is our story missing? What might the other person’s story be? Almost always, an increased awareness of the other person’s story changes how we feel.
Next, we need to explore our assumptions about the other person’s intentions. To what extent are our feelings based on an untested assumption about their intentions? Might the other person have acted unintentionally, or from multiple and conflicting intentions? How does our view of their intentions affect how we feel? And what about our own intentions? What was motivating us? How might our actions have impacted them? Does that change how we feel?
Finally, we should consider the contribution system. Are we able to see our own contribution to the problem? Are we able to describe the other person’s contribution without blaming? Are we aware of the ways that each of our contributions forms a reinforcing pattern that magnifies the problem? In what way does this shift how we feel?
We don’t need definitive answers to these questions. Indeed, until we have had a conversation with the other person, we can only hypothesize. But it is enough to raise the questions, to grapple with them, to walk around the sculpture of our feelings and observe it from different angles. If we are thoughtful, if we are honest, if we approach the questions openly and with a spirit of fairness, our feelings will begin to shift. Our anger may lose its edge; our hurt may run less deeply; our feelings of betrayal or abandonment or shame or anxiety may feel more manageable.
Consider again Jamila’s situation with her husband. Venting to us helped Jamila get in touch with her feelings of anger. But anger was not all she was feeling, nor upon reflection did she think of herself as a victim or her husband as entirely pathetic. When she considered the situation from his point of view, when she asked herself what his intentions might have been, when she focused not on blame but on what each of them had contributed, her portrait of the situation became more complex, as did her feelings.
She was able to take the And Stance and keep several things in her head at once, and to share all of those things with her husband. “I know I’ve contributed to the problems we’re having,” she told him. “I think that the anger and frustration I’ve been feeling in reaction to your contributions has made me focus more on our problems than on our strengths. But when I step back from that, what’s also clear to me is that I love you very much, and I’d like for things to get better.” Jamila realized that by working, however slowly, to express some of her feelings of anger, she would be clearing the way to express the love that originally motivated her to seek help.
Don’t Vent: Describe Feelings Carefully
Once you have found your feelings and negotiated with them, you face the task of deciding how to handle those feelings. There will be times when you decide that sharing your feelings is unnecessary or unhelpful. At other times, of course, your feelings will take center stage in the conversation.
Too often we confuse being emotional with expressing emotions clearly. They are different. You can express emotion well without being emotional, and you can be extremely emotional without expressing much of anything at all. Sharing feelings well and clearly requires thoughtfulness. Below are three guidelines for expressing your feelings that should help ease your anxiety and make an effective conversation more likely.
1. Frame Feelings Back into the Problem
Step one in expressing feelings well involves simply remembering that they’re important. Almost every difficult conversation will involve strong feelings. It is always possible to define a problem without reference to feelings. But that’s not true problem-solving. If feelings are the real issue, then feelings should be addressed.
Your feelings need not be rational to be expressed. Thinking that you shouldn’t feel as you do will rarely change the fact that you do. Your feelings, at least for the moment, are an important aspect of the relationship. You can preface their expression with an admission that you are uncomfortable with these feelings, or that you aren’t sure they make sense, but follow that preface by expressing them. Your purpose here is simply to get them out. You can decide what, if anything, to do about them later.
2. Express the Full Spectrum of Your Feelings
Let’s return to the conversation between Brad and his mother about Brad’s job search. It’s easy to see why Brad would be he
sitant to express his emotions when he’s aware only of his anger. He imagines himself telling his mother he’s angry at her, only to have her say the same back. At best, the conversation won’t go anywhere. More likely, they will each feel even angrier than before.
But what if Brad took the time to paint a more complete picture? Instead of saying, “Mom, you’re driving me crazy!” Brad might say, “When you ask me how the job search is going, I feel a couple of things. One thing I feel is angry. I suppose that’s because I’ve asked you not to bring it up, and you do anyway. But at the same time, part of me is appreciative, and reassured that things will be okay. It means a lot that you’re looking out for me and that you care.”
And when his mother asks why he’s not being more aggressive about looking for a job, rather than saying, “Stop bugging me,” Brad might say, “It’s hard for me to talk with you about this. Whenever I think about it, I end up feeling ashamed, like maybe I’m wasting my potential or letting you down.”
By putting the broader spectrum of his feelings into the conversation, Brad has changed the nature of the conversation. It’s no longer a battle of anger. Brad has brought some depth and complexity to the discussion, and given his mother some things to reflect on. She better understands what is motivating her son’s behavior, and the impact of her actions on him. The conversation doesn’t end with Brad’s expression of feeling; indeed, that’s just the beginning. Nor does expressing the full range of emotion make the conversation “easy.” But it may well be less contentious, lead to greater understanding and engagement, and point the way toward different patterns of interacting that are more mutually supportive.
Difficult Conversations: How to Discuss What Matters Most Page 11