3. Don’t Evaluate — Just Share
Getting everyone’s feelings on the table, heard and acknowledged, is essential before you can begin to sort through them. If you say, “I felt hurt,” and they say, “You’re overreacting,” the process of struggling toward deeper understanding of each other and of the problem is short-circuited. Premature evaluation of whether feelings are legitimate will undermine their expression and, ultimately, the relationship. You can establish an evaluation-free zone by respecting the following guidelines: share pure feelings (without judgments, attributions, or blame); save problem-solving until later; and don’t monopolize.
Express Your Feelings Without Judging, Attributing, or Blaming. People often say, “I’ve expressed my feelings, and all it did was cause a fight.” Remember the story of Emily and Roz. Emily told Roz that she thought Roz was “thoughtless and self-absorbed,” because Roz had not thanked Emily for being a good friend during Roz’s divorce. Not surprisingly, Roz became defensive and angry.
After realizing that she had expressed judgments about Roz rather than her own feelings, Emily started over: “Instead of judging her, I just explained that I felt hurt. And confused about the state of our friendship. I was amazed. She was very contrite, and couldn’t stop thanking me for how I had helped her.”
Talking successfully about feelings requires you to be scrupulous about taking the judgments, attributions, and statements of blame out of what you are saying, and putting the statement of feeling in. It is crucial to look at the actual words you are using to see whether those words really convey what you want them to. For example, the statement “You are so damn undependable!” is a judgment about the other person’s character. There is no reference in the statement to how the speaker feels. We should not be surprised if the response is “I am not undependable!”
In contrast, the statement “I feel frustrated. You didn’t send the letter out,” removes the blame and focuses on the feelings underneath. Such a formulation won’t make all of your problems disappear, but it is more likely to lead to a productive discussion.
A more subtle but equally common difficulty occurs when we mix a pure statement of feelings with a statement of blame. We say, “You didn’t call me like you said. It’s your fault that I felt hurt.” This statement contains a feeling — “I felt hurt” — but it also contains a conclusion about causation, of who is to blame for my being hurt. The person you are talking with is likely to focus on the fact that you are blaming them rather than focus on your feelings. A better way to express this is to state the pure feeling first — “When you didn’t call, I felt hurt” — and to explore joint contribution (not blame) later.
Don’t Monopolize: Both Sides Can Have Strong Feelings at the Same Time. If you and your significant other are grocery shopping, it is unlikely that only one of you will be putting food into the grocery cart. Instead, you’ll both be tossing in your favorite items. The same is true when discussing feelings. You can feel angry at your boss for the way she treated you when you arrived at work late, and she can feel annoyed with you for not getting the memo done on time. If you have strong feelings, it’s quite likely that the other person does too. And just as your own ambivalent feelings don’t cancel each other out, their feelings don’t cancel yours, or vice versa. What’s important is to get both parties’ strong and perhaps conflicting emotions into the conversational cart before you head for the checkout.
An Easy Reminder: Say “I Feel . . . .” It is surprising how many people would prefer to have a cavity filled without novocaine than to utter the simple words “I feel.” Yet these words can have a powerful effect on your listener.
Beginning with “I feel . . . .” is a simple act that carries with it extraordinary benefits. It keeps the focus on feelings and makes clear that you are speaking only from your perspective. It avoids the translation trap of judging or accusing. “Why do you insist on undermining me in front of the kids?!” for example, is a promising start — for an argument. Your spouse will obviously hear that you are upset or angry, but you haven’t expressed an emotion at all — only a judgment about your spouse’s intentions and parenting skills. If you begin instead with, “When you disagree with me about child-rearing in front of the kids, I feel betrayed, and also worried about the message it sends to them,” your spouse cannot argue with how you feel. Your spouse is less likely to feel defensive and more likely to engage in a conversation about your feelings, theirs, and disciplinary strategies you can develop together.
The Importance of Acknowledgment
Describing feelings is an important first step along the road toward getting things resolved, but you can’t leap from there directly into problem-solving. Each side must have their feelings acknowledged before you can even start down that road. Acknowledgment is a step that simply cannot be skipped.
What does it mean to acknowledge someone’s feelings? It means letting the other person know that what they have said has made an impression on you, that their feelings matter to you, and that you are working to understand them. “Wow,” you might say, “I never knew you felt that way,” or, “I kind of assumed you were feeling that, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to share it,” or, “It sounds like this is really important to you.” Let them know that you think understanding their perspective is important, and that you are trying to do so: “Before I give you a sense of what’s going on with me, tell me more about your feeling that I talk down to you.”
It’s tempting to jump over feelings. We want to get on with things, to address the problem, to make everything better. We often seek to get feelings out of the way by “fixing” them: “Well, let’s see. If you’re feeling lonely, I guess I’ll try to spend more time with you.” Or even: “You’re right. What can I say?” This may be the other person’s honest response to your feelings, and it is good they are sharing their reaction. But they’re doing it too soon.
To avoid this short circuit, direct the conversation back to the purpose of understanding: “I’m not saying you intended to hurt me. I don’t know whether you did or not. What’s important to me is that you understand how I felt when you criticized my work in front of the department.” Before moving on to problem-solving, you have a responsibility to yourself and to the other person to ensure that they appreciate the importance of this topic to you; that they truly understand your feelings; and that they value your having shared them. If they aren’t getting how important something is to you and you don’t flag it, then you are letting yourself down.
Acknowledging feelings is crucial in any relationship, and particularly so in what are sometimes referred to as “intractable conflicts.” In one case, the simple act of acknowledging feelings helped transform a community divided by racial tensions. A small group of police officers, political leaders, businesspeople, and neighborhood residents gathered to discuss a series of recent incidents between police officers and minority community members. When asked afterward whether he thought he had changed any minds, a black teenager, in tears, responded, “You don’t understand. I don’t want to change their minds. I just wanted to share my story. I didn’t want to hear that everything will be okay or to hear that it wasn’t their fault, or to have them tell me that their stories are just as terrible. I wanted to tell my story, to share my feelings. So why am I crying? Because now I know: they care enough about me to just listen.”
Sometimes Feelings Are All That Matter
As soon as Max, our bride-to-be’s father, shared his feelings of loss and pride with his daughter, resolving issues about how to spend money on the wedding became easy. The troubling subtexts of their previous conversations — feelings of rejection on Max’s part, or resentment at Max’s apparent need to be in control on his daughter’s part — were discussed explicitly and ceased to get in the way of further logistical problem-solving. And the two of them began to form a relationship based on an honest expression of who they were and what they wanted to be to each other.
Sometime
s, however, feelings aren’t all that matter. Sometimes they are difficult and troubling, and you still have a job to do together or kids to raise. The process of working on your relationship, or solving the problem you face, can be a long and hard one. Even so, it’s one where being able to communicate effectively with the other person — about your feelings and about the problem — will be critical.
The Identity Conversation
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6
Ground Your Identity: Ask Yourself What’s at Stake
I’ve already accepted a job elsewhere, and all that’s left for me to do is tell my boss I’m leaving. I don’t need any references or future business, and no one can influence my decision. And still, when I think of telling my boss, I’m terrified.
— Ben, software company vice president
Viewed from the outside, Ben would seem to have nothing to fear; he holds all the cards. Even so, Ben isn’t getting any sleep.
He explains: “My father worked for one company his whole life, and I always admired his loyalty. In my own life, I’ve tried to do the right thing, and for me a big part of that is sticking by the people around me — my parents, my wife, my children, and my colleagues. Telling my boss I’m leaving raises this loyalty issue directly. My boss was also my mentor, and has been very supportive. The whole thing is making me wonder: Am I really the loyal soldier I like to think I am, or just another greedy jerk willing to betray someone for the right price?”
Difficult Conversations Threaten Our Identity
Ben’s predicament highlights a crucial aspect of why some conversations can be so overwhelmingly difficult. Our anxiety results not just from having to face the other person, but from having to face ourselves. The conversation has the potential to disrupt our sense of who we are in the world, or to highlight what we hope we are but fear we are not. The conversation poses a threat to our identity — the story we tell ourselves about ourselves — and having our identity threatened can be profoundly disturbing.
Three Core Identities
There are probably as many identities as there are people. But three identity issues seem particularly common, and often underlie what concerns us most during difficult conversations: Am I competent? Am I a good person? Am I worthy of love?
Am I Competent? “I agonized about whether to bring up the subject of my salary. Spurred on by my colleagues, I finally did. Before I could even get started, my supervisor said, ‘I’m surprised you want to discuss this. The truth is, I’ve been disappointed by your performance this year.’ I felt nauseous. Maybe I’m not the talented chemist I thought I was.”
Am I a Good Person? “I had intended to break up with Sandra that night. I began in a roundabout way, and as soon as she got the drift, she started to cry. It hurt me so much to see her in such pain. The hardest thing for me in life is hurting people I care about; it goes against who I am spiritually and emotionally. I just couldn’t bear how I was feeling, and after a few moments I was telling her how much I loved her and that everything would work out between us.”
Am I Worthy of Love? “I began a conversation with my brother about the way he treats his wife. He talks down to her and I know it really bothers her. I was hugely nervous bringing it up, and my words were getting all twisted. Then he shouted, ‘Who are you to tell me how to act?! You’ve never had a real relationship in your whole life!’ After that, I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. All I could think about was how I wanted to get out of there.”
Suddenly, who we thought we were when we walked into the conversation is called into question.
An Identity Quake Can Knock Us Off Balance
Internally, our Identity Conversation is in full swing: “Maybe I am mediocre,” “How can I be the kind of person who causes others pain?” or “My brother’s right. No woman has ever loved me.” In each case, it is what this conversation seems to be saying about us that rips the ground from beneath our feet.
Getting knocked off balance can even cause you to react physically in ways that make the conversation go from difficult to impossible. Images of yourself or of the future are hardwired to your adrenal response, and shaking them up can cause an unmanageable rush of anxiety or anger, or an intense desire to get away. Well-being is replaced with depression, hope with hopelessness, efficacy with fear. And all the while you’re trying to engage in the extremely delicate task of communicating clearly and effectively. Your supervisor is explaining why you’re not being promoted; you’re busy having your own private identity quake.
There’s No Quick Fix
You can’t “quake-proof” your sense of self. Grappling with identity issues is what life and growth are all about, and no amount of love or accomplishment or skill can insulate you from these challenges. Seeing your husband cry when you tell him you don’t want to have another child, or hearing your coach say “Grow up” when you raise the issue of discriminatory treatment on the team, will test your sense of who you are in these relationships and in the world.
Not all identity challenges are earthshaking, but some will be. A difficult conversation can cause you to relinquish a cherished aspect of how you see yourself. At its most profound, this can be a loss that requires mourning just as surely as the death of a loved one. There’s no use pretending there’s a quick fix, or that you will never again lose your balance, or that life’s toughest challenges can be overcome by mastering a few easy steps.
But there is some good news. You can improve your ability to recognize and cope with identity issues when they hit. Thinking clearly and honestly about who you are can help reduce your anxiety level during the conversation and significantly strengthen your foundation in its aftermath.
Vulnerable Identities: The All-or-Nothing Syndrome
Getting better at managing the Identity Conversation starts with understanding the ways in which we make ourselves vulnerable to being knocked off balance. The biggest factor that contributes to a vulnerable identity is “all-or-nothing” thinking: I’m either competent or incompetent, good or evil, worthy of love or not.
The primary peril of all-or-nothing thinking is that it leaves our identity extremely unstable, making us hypersensitive to feedback. When faced with negative information about ourselves, all-or-nothing thinking gives us only two choices for how to manage that information, both of which cause serious problems. Either we try to deny the information that is inconsistent with our self-image, or we do the opposite: we take in the information in a way that exaggerates its importance to a crippling degree. All-or-nothing identities are about as sturdy as a two-legged stool.
Denial
Clinging to a purely positive identity leaves no place in our self-concept for negative feedback. If I think of myself as a super-competent person who never makes mistakes, then feedback suggesting that I have made a mistake presents a problem. The only way to keep my identity intact is to deny the feedback — to figure out why it’s not really true, why it doesn’t really matter, or why what I did wasn’t actually a mistake.
Recall the chemist who asked for a raise. Her boss responded by saying, “I’m surprised you want to discuss this. The truth is, I’ve been disappointed by your performance this year.” The chemist must now decide how to internalize this information, and what this says about her identity. The denial response might sound like this: “My boss knows business, but not chemistry. He doesn’t understand how important my contributions have been. I wish I had a boss who could appreciate just how good I am.”
Working to keep negative information out during a difficult conversation is like trying to swim without getting wet. If we’re going to engage in difficult conversations, or in life for that matter, we’re going to come up against information about ourselves that we find unpleasant. Denial requires a huge amount of psychic energy, and sooner or later the story we’re telling ourselves is going to become untenable. And the bigger the gap between what we hope is true and what we fear is true, the easier it is for us to lose our balance.
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sp; Exaggeration
The alternative to denial is exaggeration. In all-or-nothing thinking, taking in negative feedback requires us not just to adjust our self-image, but to flip it. If I’m not completely competent, then I’m completely incompetent: “Maybe I’m not as creative and special as I thought I was. I’ll probably never amount to anything. Maybe I’ll even get fired.”
We Let Their Feedback Define Who We Are. When we exaggerate, we act as if the other person’s feedback is the only information we have about ourselves. We put everything up for grabs, and let what they say dictate how we see ourselves. We may turn in a hundred memos on time, but if we are criticized for being late with the 101st memo, we think to ourselves, “I can never do anything right.” This one piece of information fills our whole identity screen.
This example may seem ridiculous, but we all think like this on occasion, and not only around dramatic or traumatic events. If the waitress gives you a funny look as she collects her tip, you’re cheap. If you don’t help your friends paint their house, you’re selfish. If your brother says you don’t visit his children enough, you’re an uncaring aunt. It’s easy to see why exaggeration is such a debilitating reaction.
Difficult Conversations: How to Discuss What Matters Most Page 12