“Getting creative with uncomfortable conversations”

Transcript of TEDxPickeringStreet talk  (July 15th, 2017)

I noticed, as I was writing this talk, that I wanted to impress you.

To impress you with my insightfulness and usefulness and eloquence.

“How do I do that?” “I don’t know.”
But for a while I tried to appeal to every different kind of person I could imagine; I tried to run in every direction at once.

I started to get really anxious. Then, I started to feel embarrassed by this anxiousness because I’ve given so many talks… I ‘should’ be completely comfortable by now. I knew that I was trying to put too much into too little time, and I felt guilty, because I knew it and I was still trying to do it.

When I was about to start this version, I hesitated. I thought “what if I can’t finish it?” “what if it turns out to be not as good as I imagine it?” “What if I work my hardest and still make the ‘wrong choices’?”

…

I realised, oh shoot, it’s time to practice what I preach, to actually do what I know in theory.

Because this talk is about being uncomfortable. About uncomfortable conversations. About exploring and learning from uncomfortable moments.
Over the last 3 years, I’ve been facilitating conversations and designing events on a variety of crucial-but-often-avoided topics — sex, failure, emotion, disagreement, feedback, religion, death, and others.

Today, I’m excited to share about…why uncomfortable is useful, what I’ve learned, what I’m trying, and some science that’s given me insights along the way.

My personal takeaway from this talk is this: sometimes I’ll feel uncomfortable. I want to take those moments as opportunities to be curious, to look for something to learn, to try doing something different. And, that takes practice. And that practice will feel awkward and uncomfortable, too, every time… until sometimes, it won’t.

Here’s how I remember that:

Let’s all cross our arms for a moment.
Ok, great! Uncross.
Now, cross them the opposite way, with the other arm on top.
Awkward? The usual way feels good to me. The newer way is strange. Falling back on my habits is easy, and changing them takes constant attention… and awkwardness.

…
Pause.

A note before we continue:
Today, you’ll hear things that are new and things you’ve heard before. Things that interest you and things that don’t seem relevant.
Take what’s useful to you and don’t worry about the rest.
It might be something I say, but more likely, it’s something you think or feel during this time.
Notice any discomfort, and see where that’s coming from.
Contrast my experience with your own.
Take what’s useful and see where you can put it into practice.

…
People say that what’s scarier than death is public speaking.
But, I think “private speaking” is scary in a similar way.

I want to think that I don’t care what people think of me, but when we’re face-to-face, that’s really not true.

In casual conversations, I am concerned with looking stupid — or too awkward, too weird, not nice, not knowledgeable. I might want to be seen as successful, impressive, intriguing.

In more intimate or important conversations, it feels like our relationship or my sense of identity is at stake. My brain goes wild with fears: will this change everything? What if I AM abnormal, or wrong? What if I AM not smart enough, not good enough? Can I still be accepted or trusted or loved?

Some conversations seemed so risky, so potentially out-of-control. So, for a while, I tried to avoid anything vulnerable, honest, uncomfortable.

How? By pretending.

With work or friends, I focused on being seen as someone who fit in, who was doing “fine,” better than fine. I’d rather be polite than real: I’m always happy to help and I would never ask for help. I tried to give off vibes of “I have it all under control.”

Conversations felt like a strategy game, where I was trying to win by saying the “right” things, but I didn’t know all the rules. I didn’t even know the goals.

As I ran from vulnerability, my discomfort grew — I started being anxious about more and more situations, because everything seemed risky.

Then, I withdrew, avoiding conversation. When I had to talk, I stuck to small talk, repeating my questions and answers, “tolerating” boring conversation. I didn’t try to make interesting conversation, but I did expect others to do it.

…

Between all that anxiety and frustration, I asked: what is the point of conversations? Why am I talking?

It must be more than trying to shape other’s opinions of me.

On the surface, conversations may be an enjoyable way of passing the time, of sharing excitement and interest.

And then, a way to learn and reflect, finding like-minds and new perspectives. A way to be useful and feel appreciated.

And, most deeply, conversations are about connection, to feel heard and understood, to feel close to and understanding of others — to feel that we are not alone in our strange, chaotic, and mysterious experience of life.
Maybe a conversation isn’t a strategy game, like I thought, but a way of traveling together.

By pedal-boat.

Our socks and the hems of our pants are all wet, but it’s ok.

Maybe we’re not competitors on opposite sides of table, but side-by-side, each with half of the pedals, coordinating with each other to loop around the fountain, or explore the tiny tiny islands, or go out of bounds. It’s easier when we communicate where we want to go; even easier when we’re open to being surprised and fine with finding dead-ends.

…
So, I asked, “how do I have more of these meaningful, useful conversations?”

And immediately, I did what I found most comfortable: organising events.

That was the start of Fuck Up Nights (where speakers share candid business failure stories), and Cut The Small Talk (where people discuss crucial, taboo topics like sex, self-worth, money, imposter’s syndrome, family expectations, and more.)

We picked topics that people traditionally avoid, so soon, I realised that a big part of why we avoid them is because we’ve always avoided them. Talking about them is new. Like learning a new language, it feels awkward at first… to start putting quiet thoughts into words. At events, I usually acknowledge this awkward newness, and it helps people feel more comfortable.

Soon, it dawned on me that I need to do what I find truly uncomfortable: trying something different in my everyday interactions.

…
I procrastinated with science, by reviewing research in the area.

Through that research, I found that I had really only been concerned with 1 of the 5 parts of emotional intelligence: social skills. I only wanted to know how to connect, build rapport, and manage conflict.

But social skills is really the other 4 put together. It’s empathy (a focus on understanding others), intrinsic motivation (curiosity and optimism), self-regulation (an ability to respond calmly rather than react), and the foundation of everything, self-awareness (knowledge of one’s feelings, values, goals, and impact on others).  [Daniel Goleman, 5 Components of Emotional Intelligence].

When I viewed conversation as a game, I focused on techniques and strategies, rather than trying to understand the other person, or even my own goals. I held my emotions close, like secrets, thinking that expressing them made me weak and knowing the thoughts or feelings of the others gave me an advantage.

…
And, through that research, I discovered what “nervousness is a stomach of butterflies.” really means, what “feeling uncomfortable” really is.

It turns out, this tingly unsettledness in the belly is the digestive system not getting enough blood. It’s part of the body’s stress response to threats, “fight-or-flight”.
[“Fight-or-flight” was first coined by Walter Bradford Cannon, M.D in 1915, in Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage: An Account of Recent Researches into the Function of Emotional Excitement]

The body does the same thing for social threats. So, if I get extremely angry, afraid, uncomfortable, I reply impulsively, I stutter incoherently; I am aggressive and defensive. And sometimes, I literally walk away.

Ok, how do we calm the stress response?
There’s a fast way, and a slower way.

The slower way is through the brain’s prefrontal cortex: thinking through fears to realise that they are not so threatening, or not so likely.

The fast way is through the body: breathing deeply to let the nervous system know we’re not in danger, to relax the hormonal processes.

Just the act of noticing and exploring brings the body more comfort. This mindfulness trains the brain, increasing awareness, focus, and grey matter.
[Britta K. Hölzel, et al, 2011, Mindfulness practice leads to increases in regional brain gray matter density]

…
Pause. 

Let’s do a practice in “noticing,” a self-awareness workout. There’s no talking, just noticing. Afterward, I’ll share a few more practical things.

This may feel uncomfortable or strange. If you do feel too uncomfortable, please let your partner know.
But first, let’s all stand up!

Notice your feet on the ground.

See where you feel tense, and move in a way that feels good. Maybe roll your shoulders, stretch your neck, or twist. 

Alright, let’s do one stretch together.

Hands separate. Make two fists. Give yourself a little fist bump.

Elbows stay up. Bend your wrists and try to touch the backs of your hands together.

Notice the stretch, and breathe through that discomfort.

Hands down. Now, without talking, without introducing yourself, turn to face a partner. Pairs are best… (but 3 is fine.)

Exhale.

Notice the air or wind by your nose, the air on the surface of your skin.

Keep facing your partner.

Scan your body and see what you feel.

Where is your attention?

Silently, try to describe what you feel, even if it’s “nothing,” — empty, warm, buzzing, sharp, small.

Keep noticing.

Alright, let’s take a breath together, inhale.

Thank you! Let’s sit down.

…

What did you notice? It could be many things, and here are a few possibilities.

Maybe that eye contact is full of meaning,
that noticing is challenging,
that body awareness is enjoyable,
that awkwardness and discomfort can be pretty funny, a kind of an inside joke.

As I practiced noticing, I became more able to slow stress and discomfort as they came up.

As I practiced, I became more able to separate physical sensations from their emotional label.

For example, “excited” and “anxious” feel very similar in my body; “angry” and “embarrassed” feel similar to each other as well — the difference is the words I use to describe the sensations.

Emotions are a mix of of physiology and psychology: they are what’s in my body, understood through my story, my description.

So then, I realised that the other person doesn’t MAKE me uncomfortable; discomfort comes from how I’m choosing to interpret what’s happening. It comes from the filter of my thoughts, feelings, desires, fears, and expectations.

In this way, emotion is information. Discomfort is data.

…

As I became more aware of my uncomfortable moments, I realised that some things I do to other people are things I don’t like other people doing to me.

What’s that? Two examples:

1. In a disagreement, I’ve often passionately argued, citing fact and logic, yet when other people do that to me, usually feel annoyed, judged, or defensive. That kind of argument has almost never changed my mind.
2. When someone shared something emotional, I’ve often said something like “at least it wasn’t worse.” But when people say that to me, I feel pressured to just ‘get over it,’ like my problem is simple, small, and not deserving of emotion.

Being uncomfortable is a chance to rethink the things I do naturally, automatically, to see what might suit us more. For these examples, asking questions have often worked better — questions about what they’d find helpful, and or questions I didn’t expect a particular answer to. With questions, we both learned more and felt good doing it.

Another big habit I had was to speak strategically, rather than being candid… which often lead to misunderstanding, or panic when I lost my train of thought.

Now, I try to verbally acknowledge what’s going on in my brain, by saying,

• “I don’t know what to say. What’s coming to mind is [blank]…”
• Or “I notice I’ve been rambling, my point is [blank]”.
• Or “Oh no! I can’t recall your name!”
• And, in more intimate conversations:  “I notice I’m uneasy. I’m nervous that [blank] will happen. What I value most is [blank],” for example, trust and closeness in the relationship.

As I practiced noticing discomfort, I also became more confident in my ability to say “no” — to change or leave a conversation. Before, I had been just tolerating uncomfortable moments because I didn’t know for sure that I was “too” uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to be “impolite.”

Now, I might say:

• “Thanks for sharing. I notice I can’t focus now. Do you want to write me everything over email, so I can really give it attention?”
• or “I’m too hungry to think, and I want to. How about after lunch?”
• or  just “Oh! I’m not comfortable discussing that.”

Even though I organise events about taboo topics, starting those conversations in “real life,” where it matters, doesn’t feel easy. So now, I’m trying to make a habit of offering gentle invitations — to talk more about sex or failure, I might highlight the relationship or business struggles in a movie, or share an article about entrepreneurial depression or the science of sex. Maybe it’ll spark something!

…

I’ll end with a story!

At Fuck Up Nights — where speakers share the frustrating, disastrous, messy moments of business — people sometimes ask me: “Why would anyone want to share their failures?” “Wouldn’t they be seen as stupid, incompetent, and not so business savvy?”

Embedded in that is a bigger question, “why would anyone want to be vulnerable and honest about anything they’re experiencing?” 

The truth is, the audience sees the speakers as brave, authentic, reflective, and resilient — even people who ask me this question used similar words.

To me, this shows that vulnerability is linked with weakness and discomfort, but it looks and feels like strength. It seems illogical but admitting to what’s difficult shows how we are strong even more.

The truth is, all our speakers volunteer. Many volunteer the night they hear someone else speak.

To me, this shows that acknowledging what’s uncomfortable allows us to feel less anxious and more comfortable. And being open about it gives others permission to do the same.

Slowly, as we practice talking more about the important things we might avoid — like failure, or sex — it becomes more ok both to talk about failure and sex, and to experience sex and to experience failure. More ok to experience all the weirdness and complexity of life.

…
We’re at the end now, so I invite you to reflect back on what was useful for you. What did you think or feel?

Here’s some of what I’m working on: noticing discomfort, breathing more, saying what I feel, asking “why am I talking,” giving gentle invitations, (and pedal-boating). Maybe you’ll want to experiment with those, too, or try something completely different.

Whatever it is, it’ll probably be awkward and uncomfortable at first!

No Comments angela ognev

In January, we had #30bouncingbackdays — 30 daily posts on what we’ve had trouble with, and how we recovered from those failures. This was inspired by Rethink Failure (the event series I co-organised until we pivoted to Cut The Small Talk) as well as the lack of this kind of conversation from our online and offline community.

Our greatest shift was from more coaching/exemplary posts in the beginning to more vulnerable/open/courageous posts toward the end. When you think about one concept once a day for a month, you, unsurprisingly, get quite deep. These were my greatest shifts:

1. I doubted my own discipline

This is my greatest shift by far. For years I thought I’d buy a notebook to write down all of my ideas — on occasion I’ll buy a new, beautiful notebook, but it never gets filled up. “I’ll never be able to keep that habit up,” I think.

I kept doubting my own discipline. The same happened after my first yoga teacher training — I’ll never be able to practice each day… I’m so given to spontaneity and ease.

I decided during #30bouncingbackdays that I AM disciplined, and that I can maintain habits, if I want to. So far, doing well with the recording of ideas (I now use an audio device), and daily yoga (I’m working on handstands.)

2. There’s positivity in my angsty teenage years

Looking back, I’m disappointed at my arrogance in high school. In particular, I’m sorry for how I treated my parents during that time. But in bouncing back, I realise that there is positivity to it as well — because I thought I was in control of everything, I developed a really internal locus of control (I judge myself against me, I’m responsible for my own happiness), and great emotional regulation (ability to notice how I’m feeling, dive into it, or shift it until later) really early on.

3. How NOT to make excuses

When I’m late, I like to say why — I want to feel forgiven for being late. But this habit often makes other’s feel like they’re infringing on my time, unwelcomed. I don’t want that to happen, so I’ve shifted giving excuses to sending resources or letting them know how else they can reach me.

When I’m working on a project, I like to disclaim everything as a draft. This is in part because I like to be open to feedback, but also because I don’t want to be “not good enough,” while giving the impression that I think I am.

4. Admitting to nervousness, anxiety, “should”s opens others up to sharing

The later days of #30bouncingbackdays were more personal — more stories, many of which were unresolved. Friends, many of whom I haven’t spoken to in years, commented, sharing my experience. I felt grateful to be creating a temporary community of sorts, and happy to know that these experiences are shared. I hope they feel the same.

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I spent December with #30creativefocusdays — one post per day. In the end, the theme was too vague, but it was born out of the idea that we want to be productive (not nose-to-grind-stone kind of productive, but energising-momentum kind of productive.) In particular, we want to be productive when creating new ideas (not just executing on a concept we already had.) Over these 30 days, I notice my posts had these 3 patterns:

1. Paying attention to where my energy and productivity comes from:

I plan while walking. I insert errands as I go, keeping a list of possible but small tasks.

I brainstorm or meditate on commutes.

I spend a lot of time upsidedown, listening to audiobooks or sketching out ideas, so as to bring the blood circulating in my legs back to the heart to refresh it completely. More yoga!

2. Considering how I feel or want to feel:

A lot of my productivity is about “being in the mood” or “having momentum,” so it begs the question “how do I get into the mood?”

I look at my calendar to see what is energising or de-energising. I notice what the environment, music, food, etc does to me. I made changes based on those observations and tried new settings!

With some reading on emotional differentiation and regulation, I tried to acknowledge how I felt and state how I want to feel (or order to change it.) “Am I experiencing my feelings as if they are weather?” Random and uncontrollable?

3. Learning about the theories of creativity and thinking: 

I read a few books on homeschooling — how do we think children and adults learn? I researched a bit into the trivium.

I found there are 3 kinds of mistakes (a little bit like the two kinds of statistical errors.)

I liked the SCAPER method of tweaking and improving ideas:

Substitute something
Combine it with something else
Adapt something to it
Modify or Magnify it
Put it to some other use
Eliminate something
Reverse or Rearrange it

SCRAPER was created by the guy who coined the term “brainstorm!”

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It’s time to rethink failure and redefine success. Having a conversation about failure — what it is, what it looks like, how to rock learning from failure — increases openness and communication, resulting in more innovative projects, risk-taking, and disruptive ideas.

Here are some ways and tips to facilitating this conversation!

A little excerpt from the script! The script is there for you to adapt and build on, and it’s paired with sample questions, topics, tips, and things to watch out for (as well as how to handle them.)

Failure stories. I’ll start. Since this is a safe space, let’s keep a couple things in mind. Share if you feel comfortable. If it’s about the past, try bringing out the humor in it — there’s no better way to let go than to laugh.

Let the team know what you want after you speak —

a listen, nod, and thank you;

b notes about what they learned or that they’ve had a similar experience;

c feedback and advice from their perspective.

Notice if you are angry, blaming others, complaining etc, and just let us know in advance — “I’m angry and a lot of what I say will sound like complaints.”

 

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A great coaching client is one who you love to work with because they are working for themselves. They are willing to try things, take action, reflect, and dream. They see their personal power — whether its just a glimmer right now or quite a bit — and they aim to do something with it. They’re not waiting to get “lucky;” they are making their own luck with their action.

They…

Desire

They desire. They are trying to go somewhere, be something, accomplish something — that may change, shift, or be completely overthrown, but the forward energy is important to them. They have dreams, ones that they are even afraid to admit because declaring it is overwhelmingly scary. But they know it’s there, and they know it’s powerful. They are willing to want what they want, and acknowledge those desires. They’re here to get more clarity and channel their energy to achieve their desires.

Sit with the question

Ok, so coaches ask strange questions sometimes. Usually short and to-the-point, but not ones that you may have ever heard a friend say. “What does _____ mean?” “Where does ‘can’t’ come from?” “How is that serving you?” “Describe where you feel it.” Sometimes the questions are not so much strange but rather scary. It’s completely different from the ones you’d ask yourself. It’s one you don’t have an answer to right away, but as you think about it, and sit with it, interesting thoughts, words, sounds, colors, and feelings arise. And then you…

Think aloud

As a client, you think aloud. You just say what’s there and consider what that could mean after words. You trust your gut and your head that what floats up is useful and relevant. The coach has created a safe space together with the client, and as the client, you don’t feel the need to self-censor. You’re able to dig deep and just see what comes. You verbalise as best as you can and offer disclaimers when it’s difficult. But you think aloud anyway.

Notice what is happening

A client that goes beyond lucky notices what’s happening. There are many levels to a coaching session and what is said it just one of them. When you, as the client, notices your own excitement, hesitation, confusion, offendedness, you treat it with curiosity and bring it up. Your wonderful coach gives you space and questions to explore it further.

Bottom-line

“Why do I want to say what I’m saying?” Whether 15 minutes or 2 hours or a whole day, coaching is a space where time is valuable — just like any other activity. To go deeper faster, you bottom-line. What is the significance of what is being said, or how I’m reacting? These clients check themselves when they notice they’re repeating, because it may not be useful to tell the same story they told a friend in the exact same words to their coach. They challenge themselves to find why that story is important, because they value how deep and effective the session can be.

Design the relationship and give feedback

You are not the receiver of a relationship, but one half of a whole. The coach and client together design a space that helps them move from good to great, to reflect on the bad, to be challenged, to act, to hear thoughts bluntly and straight-forwardly. When as a client you give feedback on when the session works well, or when you’ve taken offense or gotten confused, you allow your coach to grow, and you relationship to be a even more tailored fit.

Respect their own time and the coach’s time

A client that goes beyond lucky is constantly aware of potential topics to bring to the session. Because they value themselves and their time, they view the world in terms of things they’d like to see more of, or understand more about. These topics will shift, come, and go, but the desire to be open to them is always present. Both client and coach are on time, ready to be present, focused, and flexible in that moment. The sessions are valuable, and not services to be brushed off and rescheduled. There is respect for you and I, for your time and mine.

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Why do we push away positive feelings?

Here’s the short answer: Because positive feelings are a form of power. And power is all kinds of uncontrollable, elevating, disruptive, expansive, and threatening — to your own fear, and to people who prefer low-risk living.

The Disruptive Joy post by Danielle LaPorte boldly puts into words a unique fear that we and our clients face — similar to the fear of success. It is a fear that combines a reluctance of change and effort, and a desire or pleasure for pleasing everyone, of sacrificing our edginess in order to be normal and acceptable. It comments on a strange human impulse to be surrounded by people being unabashedly themselves, inspired by the creative and impactful work they are doing, and being insanely jealous or self-doubtful.

Intensity of a feeling — in this case joy — has a certain kind of power, thill, and riskiness. It is a sense of momentum paired with the sensation that things could move too fast. It is a combination of our self-confidence and declarations of our own worthiness paired with the tiny, lingering doubt that we may not be good enough or smart enough after all.

Tamping down the really positive feelings can have a big emotional pay off. If you’re not too joyful, too positive, too much of the good stuff, you get rewarded with being generally liked. (Insert yawning sound effect.) You get to keep the j-o-fucking-b and the companion in your bed. You get acceptance. Generally.

Danielle breaks this down into several pieces, several reasons we push away positive feelings. In short, 1) to fit in as normal, 2) because it creates action and change, and 3) as it reminds us of how painful and far down falling would be. As a coach, these are three separate areas to explore with ourselves and our clients.

The first is in the quote above. We grow up with a careful fight between individuality and self-awareness and fitting into the “right” cliques. It’s surprisingly hard to break out of our habit of pleasing everyone — and not just those who matter to us — and our tendency to define ourselves with generic roles — rather than specific, personal ones.  In coaching, we listen powerfully for the underlying beliefs, and where the “can’t”s and “should”s come from. Noticing and bringing that that to the surface is the beginning of creating awareness, and then change.

We push away good feelings because they create constant change — and that takes some stamina.

And then, there’s a fear of change, or the friction and effort involved. We want things, we deeply desire things, but the short-term discomfort or uncertainty scares us. It is scary because we forget how beautiful a new habit or future might be; it’s scary because we don’t know how to start — all we know is just that we don’t know how to start. As coaches, we look for the manageable and tangible action points. We provide a space for safety, acknowledgement, and desire.

We push away positive feelings because the light emotions can create a stark contrast to the dark emotions.

Sometimes, a beautiful moment or possibility reminds us of how painful it would be to lose it. If we don’t experience such wonderful things, we won’t have to experience such painful moments as painfully either. It’s likely that these two sensations are often separate — loss hurts a lot regardless. But if it is the case that we must experience dark emotions in all its intensity and complexity, perhaps there is power in those moments too. As a coach, we sit with our clients, offering a space for them to celebrate and process all that is felt. Your emotions are worthy. Not irrational, not to be dismissed. What you feel is important — for some of us, perhaps the most important part.

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[This is a sticky post. Eventually, I’ll use this to tell you about the different categories of posts I write. But I haven’t written much here yet.This blog is a space for me to reflect on what I’m exploring and I’ve learned!]

I’m interested in everything with moving parts. I love to synthesise and make connections across fields/topics. Slowly, I’m coming to terms with my inner dabbler. I want to try everything I want to try. I’m drawn to craft and crafty things. Somedays, I prefer arm chair philosophy, and more often, I feel powerful getting shit done.

I read things that make me feel clear… and energised. I write because I want to give myself more time to reflect. I hope that, sometimes, I’ll write things you’ll want to highlight, or put on a sticky, or whatever else you do to let yourself mull something over more.

Facebook is the only social network I really keep up with.

My personal website shows a bit more about my artsy hobbies.

It also lists upcoming events… so see you soon?

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I will admit I’m feeling a little Wizard of Oz with the titles right now, but I don’t deny there is a wickedness to a coach with their heart in the wrong place.

Some of these examples are mildly exaggerated but they are nonetheless hurtful and sometimes surprisingly intuitive actions — they come from a mindset focused on black/white issues, advice or help, taking pleasure in being right or getting credit, and problem-solving. Here are 5 traits of a wicked coach:

Focus on personal stories and advice

A coach who brings up a personal story or suggested solution in a context is usually trying to be helpful; however, they are implying (whether or not they realise it), that the topic is easily solvable, nothing to worry about, completely ordinary, and not worthy of exploring further.

>>> It may be help to bring up experiences outside of the session, focusing on describing the situation, rather than prescribing something. Suggesting ideas may be useful when the client is stuck and the coach is out of questions, if the coach suggests multiple ideas and asks the client to build on it or improve it, rather than naming one, best solution. Problem-solving type questions may come to mind very early in the session — acknowledge them but keep exploring and probing.

Constant, tiny interruptions

A lot of “mmhhhmms” during a call or head-nodding during an in-person suggestion can go beyond suggesting understanding — they can be perceived as a signal that the client should wrap-up, speed up, get to the point, or that what they are explaining is obvious. The relationship and cues are a great topic to discuss together.

>>> Let go of the need to reassure that your line hasn’t dropped. Give your client eye contact and encouragement, give them silence or an occasional “mm” — often, the deeper observations happen after the client feels all has been said, but also wants to continue sharing.

Trying to comfort, and thus, belittle

“That’s not terrible” or “at least, (some good) came out of it” are well-intentioned. These remarks can sometimes feel uncomfortable or offensive because they imply that the client shouldn’t be feeling as intensely angry, sad, etc as they do, that their feels are unworthy and unjustified, and that they’d better hurry up and move on.

>>> Be brave — give them a space to sit with and explore those emotions further, if they would like. It may be good to acknowledge that you hear the intensity and details of their issue. Some clients may feel guilty from complaining, and you wouldn’t want them to leave the session feeling that way. Hold the space with your innocent curiousity.

Closed questions (in some cases)

A question that can be answered with yes or no is generally pushing a client in a particular direction, in a way that we personally think would be most beneficial or efficient. Sometimes, they come from a part of us that wants to know we were right in understanding or have the best solution. This can take the conversation off track, away from the clients agenda — when you get ready to close, both parties might realise that the original intention was ignored rather than fulfilled.

>>> Closed questions can be good for confirming understanding, or challenging the client to take on a task or question they expressed curiosity in. They can be used effectively to ask the opposite of a question the client has been wondering, as a way to open up further exploration. There are many other times for closed questions, but make sure to check your judgement.

Having the last, eloquent word

A wicked coach may want to end with an eloquent line, full of acknowledgements and thanks before logging off. This may come from a place of ego, of being able to speak well and show it, of following the conversation well and wanting to demonstrate it. It can make the client incomplete if they end with so many more thoughts and have no chance to explore it.

>>> It is useful to wrap-up with key takeaways, questions, or action points, but it’s good to give the client the last word. You hold the space for them by making sure that they have made the most of their time, or as much as they would like.

That’s the fabled wicked coach, folks!

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“We are human beings, not human doings.” A friend shared this quote alongside an article: A Better Way to Introduce Your Friends at Parties. The short story is that we can come back to the job titles later — we want to start with what is more meaningful and memorable. Try these:”He’s one of the most thoughtful people I know.” “She shows up more than any friend I have.” “She knows how to meet you in deep waters and pull you back up for air without panicking or judging how you got there.”

Sometimes it’s hard to imagine myself separate from my work or what I do. I think that’s partly because we’re pushed to build resumes, with all our accomplishments (the things we’ve done) and how important we were when we were then. It’s tangible and countable. It’s filled with many long, intelligent words. It’s often what people so “wow” to or envy others over. Who are you outside of what you do?

Who am I? What’s left? I am my values — clarity, brevity, intrigue, specific optimism. Dependability, conscientiousness. I never cancel a meeting with clients or friends. I am careful with feedback. I try to ask several open ended questions after I listen.

I am what underlies all that I do. A tendency for quirkiness. A curiosity about how people think and learn and communicate and love. A desire to ask new questions and have surprising conversation. A drive to make moments that don’t feel like deja vu.

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Each day, May to August, I posted a photo and story of something that made me happy. (#100happydays is a trend at the moment.) I like the structure of a daily themed post! Here are my insights:

1. Certain things always light me up. Positive advertisements. Food. Good design. Glass and wood. Snuggling up with a book. Quiet moments. Cats, that’s actually common one — something soft to be affectionate to. The best part? It’s easy to have more of that in my life.

2. The reframing happens immediately. The “oh goodness, what will I post about today” emotion sets in Day 1. I look around — “how can this make me happy? how does that make me happy? what’s a detail I can notice?” Once you start looking for happiness everywhere, happiness jumps out at you.

3. You need to give yourself permission to be happy. Sometimes, I’ll have forgotten to post or take a picture all day. In order to stick with my daily post, I’ll look around my house and find something about myself to be happy about. I let myself see the happiness in these everyday things.

4. What I really wanted to do was to learn more new things. I invited a few friends to start #100learningdays with me! Each day a photo and something new, a word, concept, life lesson, fun fact, how to, and so on. Look for another post.

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