This is the fourth in a series of posts on work culture and nonviolent communication. You can find the first post here.
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Acknowledging my needs was not something I was taught to do growing up. I knew them clearly when I was little. Then I learned to suppress them because I thought it would make people happy if I didn't need anything from them, if I could take care of myself. I suppressed my needs by numbing my feelings. I didn't know what to do with them, how to handle them or move through them, so I hid them. Even from myself. This is what I had to do in order to survive.
My gut reaction in conflict is to duck my head and pretend nothing is wrong. It creates a pattern, one where I suppress and suppress until I break down. For me, this looks like not caring about things anymore, not having energy for the things I enjoy. I want to lie in bed and do nothing. I don't want to think. I search for ways to distract myself. A week after my grandmother died, I found myself playing a video game, watching a movie and reading a book at the some time. I wasn't enjoying any of them. I was desperate. I didn't know how to handle it.
I was full of unrecognized feelings and unexpressed needs. Expressing feelings is tricky, and it's not always welcomed. Even our language makes it difficult. We say we feel something, when we actually mean we think it. For instance: "I feel like he doesn't like me," or "I feel like she is going to do well."
We confuse thought and feeling. Feeling is a sensation in our body. Thoughts are the meanings and stories we attach to these feelings. Which comes first, the feeling or the thought? It’s a question like the chicken and egg. I’m not sure the answer, but when I’m bothered, it’s my feelings that need attention. My thoughts get in the way.
To move forward, I have to put the thoughts aside temporarily and get down to the feeling. Where we often get stuck is in addressing the thoughts instead of the feelings. When I hear someone say "I feel like George doesn't like me," I might respond with "Oh no! He really does like you!"
This seems like it should be helpful. It is usually the opposite. It is addressing the thought and disregarding the feeling. It is even reinforcing to the other person that they should disregard their own feeling. It is telling them they are wrong and I am right. This will never resolve a conflict. Instead of helping, it will create a new conflict. Which of us is right? Does George like her or not? Can either of us really know? We cannot. Either the person gives in, ignoring her own feelings to accept mine, or she fights back, reestablishing that she is correct and I am wrong. Probably even giving some evidence to back up her claim.
"I feel like George doesn't like me."
"Oh no! He really does like you!"
"Then why does he talk to everyone else except me? Why does he never acknowledge me in meetings or say hello when I come into the break room?"
"He's probably just nervous around you."
And on and on, each person projecting what they think George thinks and feels until one of them gives in and accepts the other person's point of view or storms off, a new enemy. This kind of positive opposition is a form of gaslighting. It denies the other person's experience, in favor of your own. It does not help.
So what's the feeling? How do we find them?
For me, this is the trickiest part of the process. One technique that helps me is this: in English, for emotions, you don't need to say "I feel." For instance, "I feel sad" can just as easily be said "I am sad."
When you are talking about a thought, this is more difficult. Take "I feel like George doesn't like me." Remove the "I feel like" and you are left with "George doesn't like me." No feeling. It's a statement. Or, if we are more honest: "I don't think George likes me." This thought bothers you or it doesn’t. For some people, it would bother you for them to not like you, for others you couldn’t care less. This shows we have to go deeper. To know what to do with this thought, we need to understand the feeling it inspires in us. Maybe, "I am afraid George doesn't like me." Or, "I am concerned George doesn't like me." The feelings are more obvious now: fear or concern.
Once we have the feeling, we can begin to understand. With thoughts, all we can do is oppose or agree. We cannot understand. We can say, "Yes George doesn't like you," or "no, George does like you." With feelings, we are operating on a different plane. If we are afraid, we can ask: why am I afraid of George not liking me?
And it is that question that will lead us to understanding our unmet need, which I will cover in the next post. :)
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Thanks for reading along! I would love to hear about things in these posts you find helpful or if there are specific areas where you would appreciate elaboration. If you are getting this via email, just reply. Otherwise, email me at caleb.lenoir@hey.com!
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Acknowledging my needs was not something I was taught to do growing up. I knew them clearly when I was little. Then I learned to suppress them because I thought it would make people happy if I didn't need anything from them, if I could take care of myself. I suppressed my needs by numbing my feelings. I didn't know what to do with them, how to handle them or move through them, so I hid them. Even from myself. This is what I had to do in order to survive.
My gut reaction in conflict is to duck my head and pretend nothing is wrong. It creates a pattern, one where I suppress and suppress until I break down. For me, this looks like not caring about things anymore, not having energy for the things I enjoy. I want to lie in bed and do nothing. I don't want to think. I search for ways to distract myself. A week after my grandmother died, I found myself playing a video game, watching a movie and reading a book at the some time. I wasn't enjoying any of them. I was desperate. I didn't know how to handle it.
I was full of unrecognized feelings and unexpressed needs. Expressing feelings is tricky, and it's not always welcomed. Even our language makes it difficult. We say we feel something, when we actually mean we think it. For instance: "I feel like he doesn't like me," or "I feel like she is going to do well."
We confuse thought and feeling. Feeling is a sensation in our body. Thoughts are the meanings and stories we attach to these feelings. Which comes first, the feeling or the thought? It’s a question like the chicken and egg. I’m not sure the answer, but when I’m bothered, it’s my feelings that need attention. My thoughts get in the way.
To move forward, I have to put the thoughts aside temporarily and get down to the feeling. Where we often get stuck is in addressing the thoughts instead of the feelings. When I hear someone say "I feel like George doesn't like me," I might respond with "Oh no! He really does like you!"
This seems like it should be helpful. It is usually the opposite. It is addressing the thought and disregarding the feeling. It is even reinforcing to the other person that they should disregard their own feeling. It is telling them they are wrong and I am right. This will never resolve a conflict. Instead of helping, it will create a new conflict. Which of us is right? Does George like her or not? Can either of us really know? We cannot. Either the person gives in, ignoring her own feelings to accept mine, or she fights back, reestablishing that she is correct and I am wrong. Probably even giving some evidence to back up her claim.
"I feel like George doesn't like me."
"Oh no! He really does like you!"
"Then why does he talk to everyone else except me? Why does he never acknowledge me in meetings or say hello when I come into the break room?"
"He's probably just nervous around you."
And on and on, each person projecting what they think George thinks and feels until one of them gives in and accepts the other person's point of view or storms off, a new enemy. This kind of positive opposition is a form of gaslighting. It denies the other person's experience, in favor of your own. It does not help.
So what's the feeling? How do we find them?
For me, this is the trickiest part of the process. One technique that helps me is this: in English, for emotions, you don't need to say "I feel." For instance, "I feel sad" can just as easily be said "I am sad."
When you are talking about a thought, this is more difficult. Take "I feel like George doesn't like me." Remove the "I feel like" and you are left with "George doesn't like me." No feeling. It's a statement. Or, if we are more honest: "I don't think George likes me." This thought bothers you or it doesn’t. For some people, it would bother you for them to not like you, for others you couldn’t care less. This shows we have to go deeper. To know what to do with this thought, we need to understand the feeling it inspires in us. Maybe, "I am afraid George doesn't like me." Or, "I am concerned George doesn't like me." The feelings are more obvious now: fear or concern.
Once we have the feeling, we can begin to understand. With thoughts, all we can do is oppose or agree. We cannot understand. We can say, "Yes George doesn't like you," or "no, George does like you." With feelings, we are operating on a different plane. If we are afraid, we can ask: why am I afraid of George not liking me?
And it is that question that will lead us to understanding our unmet need, which I will cover in the next post. :)
---
Thanks for reading along! I would love to hear about things in these posts you find helpful or if there are specific areas where you would appreciate elaboration. If you are getting this via email, just reply. Otherwise, email me at caleb.lenoir@hey.com!