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Gerard and Lucy were arguing about what happened in an argument they had the previous day. Lucy recalled the sequence of events and the words Gerard used to express his anger. Gerard became indignant and accused her of not telling the truth. “I was sitting in the chair the whole time and you just said that I was huffing and puffing all around the room. That’s just not true.”  “Are you calling me a liar?” Lucy retorted.

The conversation—or rather argument—continued with Gerard insisting that he sat in the chair the whole time and Lucy saying that part of the time he angrily moved about the room. How could their memories be so different?  Was one of them really not telling the truth but afraid to admit it out of embarrassment?

I’ve been party to many conversations in counseling and consulting work that deal with high conflict. Very rarely does someone not tell the truth to save face. Most all the time both people tell the truth…or what they experienced as best they can express it at the time.

I realize that may sound like legalese or politically or socially correct rhetoric, but it is the most accurate way I can explain the reality of the situation. Here’s why: As information comes into our brain, it is deconstructed. Fragments of the experience record in different areas. When memory is recalled, the fragments reconstruct and may not “come back” in the way the experience actually happened, and therefore might be different for each individual. This makes for very sober going as we try to establish “what really happened”—especially when two people, both hurt and confused, try to figure out what happened and maintain their sanity.

In high conflict situations, our stress hormones are elevated, which alters our thinking and feeling so we experience the situation in a somewhat altered state. Does that mean we are out of touch with reality? Not at all. What it does mean is that each of us will experience the same situation differently, and sometimes very differently. The conflict Lucy and Gerard experienced recorded in different ways in each brain. Over time as memory consolidates (which can take some years) those memories, as they recall them, can and will change.

So, what can they do? Lucy and Gerard must accept that they experienced what happened differently and not get hung up on who is right. Acknowledging how hard it was on both of them can set the stage for emotional healing and potentially some problem-solving. Talking and listening under these circumstances is difficult. If they can both clarify what they would like the other to understand, the repair process can begin. Achieving understanding does not require agreement, but it does require mutual respect.

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Britta was frustrated with Craig because he worries about a lot of things most of the time, according to Britta. According to Craig he doesn’t worry a lot of the time, a statement that flabbergasted Britta. “Just ask anyone who knows you,” she exclaimed, “ten-to-one they’ll say you are a worrier!” “Sure, I worry sometimes,” Craig replied, “but not ‘a lot of the time.’” Britta looked at me for help.

I suggested we stick to specifics as a first order of business and see if there was a recent incident that would help us better understand what each of them really meant. Britta brought up their youngest son as a topic for discussion.  We all agreed that a certain type of parental worry about our children is natural. Aaron, their son, is a very sensitive kid and has frequent emotional meltdowns. Britta went on to say that she felt frustrated because when Craig was talking about Aaron the day before, he was worrying, afraid of how Aaron will turn out as an adult. “There’s nothing we can do to fix this,” Britta said. “I wasn’t saying that either of us could or should fix this,” Craig replied. “And besides,” he continued, “I wasn’t worrying about Aaron.”

This brought an exclamation of incredulity from Britta. “You weren’t worrying?” she said in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “No, I wasn’t,” Craig said, calmly and matter-of-factly. We all paused at that, and because I know that Craig is word sensitive (linguistic) I asked him to define the difference between worry and concern. Being the wordsmith that he is, Craig easily did.

Worry, he said, is about feeling anxious about something unpleasant, whereas concern has an element of worry, but also compassion. This difference mattered a lot to Craig because he is so linguistically oriented, using words carefully to guide his thoughts, feelings, and communication.  To Britta these two words are relatively interchangeable. She did know, however, that this difference in their processing styles has accounted for conflict before, so she became more relaxed.

When Craig is concerned, he doesn’t obsess or feel burdened, but when he worries he feels burdened and looks for relief. By clarifying the meanings of the words, Britta could see that Craig wasn’t looking for help so he could feel better. He was expressing concern, not worry, about Aaron. The distinction helped Britta relax and it resulted in a broader discussion about clarifying terms and focusing on what each person needs from a conversation. For example, Britta can ask if there is some way she can be of help when she hears worry or concern from Craig. It’s a relatively small adjustment to the pattern of their conversations but the positive impact can be large.

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Anna and Tom had a big fight―one of those fights that starts with something small and ends up going global with each person bringing up numerous, unrelated issues.

My first question to Anna when I next saw her was, “Are you still upset with each other or have you made peace?” Anna said they were fine with each other but wanted to make sure they never fight like that again. When I asked her how they made peace she seemed puzzled that I was more focused on the peace than on the issues and how the fight evolved into a global affair.  So, I explained where I was coming from.

It’s not that I was uninterested in the content of the original problem or the dynamics that got away from them, it’s just that peace-making is a productive process and one I believe we can learn more from in the long run.  They obviously did something right: What was it and how did they figure that one out?

With interpersonal conflict, I tend to focus on the re-visiting concept, which is outlined in my book, Do You Know What I Mean?—Discovering Your Personal Communication Style, in the “Basic and Necessary Communication Skills” section at the end of the book. Learning how to constructively revisit conflict automatically teaches us how to focus when emotions are running high, because face it, when emotions run high, it isn’t possible to have a constructive discussion. That’s a biological fact.

Here’s a summary of the revisiting format:

1. Take time out and calm yourself.
2. Find out if the other person is prepared to continue the discussion in a different frame of mind and emotion. It takes as long as it takes.
3. State your intent. Say, for example, That didn’t go very well. I’d like to find a way for us each to better understand what’s important.
4. Express regrets. For example, I wish I hadn’t said . . .
5. Tell your stories. For example, This is what I went through . . . and highlight your beliefs. Give the other person time and space without interruption. This is not a fact-based discussion. It is meant to let you know what the other experienced so you can improve the interaction as you get back to the content.
6. Return to the content with more patience and understanding in a give-and-take discussion.
7. Repeat as many times as it takes. It’s worth it.

This is basically what Anna and Tom did, and with practice they can learn to incorporate this approach earlier in the process of conflict. So often we want to figure out what went wrong, so we will never do it again. A better approach is to focus on what is needed for things to go right.

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Luanne and Trevor have both lived hard lives. Alcoholism, physical abuse and more pervaded their childhoods, forcing them both to be independent before they were ready. Sometimes, readiness is a luxury―you do what you have to do, and it isn’t until many years later, weary, that you can look back in awe at the way things were in your “ordinary” life. That was the case for these two.

Their relationship began with intensity and great passion in a way that neither had previously experienced, despite being married, divorced and having other partners over the years. Now in middle age they discovered each other and something felt different. They seemed to intuitively know the other in a way that was reassuring and emotionally scary.

As they sat facing one other in the counseling office their fear was palpable.  Trying hard to be reassuring of their good intentions, each was careful not to say anything that would be hurtful, yet they needed to talk about the hard stuff, for which they were seeking guidance.

It’s always interesting and instructive for me to observe the face of the listener when their partner is talking. Trevor’s face was riveted on Luanne as she acknowledged her fear of staying close to him. She had ended previous relationships before the other person could hurt her. When she tried to do that with Trevor, the loss was too painful, so she was forcing herself to stay close to him. This meant she had to withstand the fear of him abandoning her, and as she talked about these complicated dynamics in her life Trevor was absorbing the facts and the feelings. The more she talked, the more Trevor relaxed.

Then, I watched Luanne’s face soften, her eyes brighten, her body sink into the chair as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was not really crying, she was emotionally releasing and connecting with herself, and with Trevor.  Luanne was declaring herself, facing her self-defeating behaviors rooted in the past, not serving her well anymore. This vulnerability was bathed in the truth and had an inner strength that allowed Luanne’s walled exterior to crumble before our eyes. Trevor and I were watching it happen.

This was likely a once in a lifetime experience, hard won, awe inspiring and a bit surreal. Yet in witnessing it there was no mistaking its authenticity.  Moments of real truth and experience such as these create a profound internal shift, and all at once we feel different. But in the difference is a familiarity with self that is undeniable and peaceful. Part of this truth is recgnizing that we’ve been given a gift and we have a responsibility to see it through.

Transformative experiences are opportunities. They do not change us in the way we imagine, to something bright and wonderful. They allow us to see what is possible and illuminate a path we can take, where effort is needed and struggles remain, but we’re no longer quite so afraid.

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I’m very aware of time. What time it is, how long something will take, the number of days before an event. I look at my appointment book several times a day, making, changing, and remembering when I have appointments and mapping out the time-flow. I’m also the kind of person who gets ready and shows up very early for appointments and events. I began doing this as a child. Keeping accurate time playing a musical instrument, however, has always been challenging, and although I’ve done a lot of organized singing as an adult, my timing skills with music remain weak.

My time estimation skills are also weak. I frequently err in determining how long an activity will take. Left on my own, I will calculate three activities taking a total of two hours, when in reality they take five or six hours. Likewise, I can overestimate: planning several hours for something that takes barely one. So, I’ve learned to ask others for feedback as part of my planning efforts.

My interpersonal timing skills, however, are strong. I innately sense what to say when, which fosters clearer communication and greater understanding.  I’m not talking about the art of making good conversation. I mean the way of listening and feeling the rhythm of the conversation, knowing when to ask a question and when to be silent, naturally modulating my voice and creating an emotionally safe environment. The timing involved in each of these “activities” comes naturally, although having over 30,000 hours of office counseling “practice” helps.

Timing and time, related but different—a strength, a weakness. Our human capacities have different dimensions. In one way they can work smoothly, efficiently and effectively.  In another way they can be erratic, out of synch, and cause problems. As I continue to observe and study the details of how we interact with ourselves and others, I am amazed at the nuances of our capacities and how paradoxical they can appear.

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“I don’t care.”  I used to say this quite a lot but stopped once I realized the impact it has on many people. The truth is I really don’t care about a lot of things. For example, if you ask me if I prefer having one thing or another to eat, I am likely to be content with either. To someone with definite preferences about food, that may be hard to accept, let alone understand.

On a free day when there are no particular plans, if I’m asked what I’d like to do, once again I’m likely to say, “I don’t care.” I understand it’s hard to accept this, too. I’ve often had the response, “How could you not care?” or “Are you just saying that so you don’t disappoint me?” Often I’m happy to do whatever comes along or is of interest to the other person I’m spending time with. But saying, “I don’t care,” really sounds bad. It can seem apathetic or that I’m not really invested in the relationship with the other person. Another way of saying this is, “It doesn’t matter,” which is equally bad. Choice of words matter and explaining what you mean matters a lot.

So, I’ve learned to say (when I don’t care what I eat), “I could be happy with just about anything. Is there something that sounds particularly good to you?” When I say it like this, I’m defining what my “not caring” means . . . well, in fact, I am caring: I’m showing care for the other person by staying connected. And the decision is still a shared experience.

It’s the shared experience part that’s particularly important because it’s about the importance of the relationship. Using the shorthand, “I don’t care,” isolates the other person—or yourself. It’s not easy to assess the impact we have on others with our choice of words. When we get feedback that doesn’t match our intention, clarifying the meaning of what we said usually helps.

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Recently I’ve been talking about curiosity as a communication skill—and, perhaps one of the most important communication skills. Why?

Imagine that every time you engage in an important conversation you remain curious. What impact will this have on the other person and the outcome of the discussion? . . . Think about it. . . . Remaining curious requires an open mind, an open heart, and a genuine interest in the other person. If you have that, those you’re conversing with will feel this and most will respond positively, likely resulting in greater openness.

Being curious is more than just being interested in gathering information. It anchors the listener in a posture that communicates good will, which makes being open much easier. The more openness, the deeper a conversation can go, and achieving understanding—the goal of interpersonal communication—is more likely.

In a previous post I referred to research about older couples who had been married (happily) fifty years or more. The aim of the research was to discover the ingredients that contributed to their happiness. These couples all reported remaining curious, realizing that as much as you know about your loved one, you don’t know everything—and you never will. This open-mindedness—curiosity—created a respectful environment where both partners continued learning about each other.

In the “Basic and Necessary Communication Skills” section of my book, Do You Know What I Mean?—Discovering Your Personal Communication Style, I suggest asking “I’d like to understand what’s really important to you. Can you tell me?” when you’re having a difficult conversation. This, when asked with sincerity, creates an opportunity for real listening.

Of course the most important advice for creating harmony in relationships is to listen. Listening well is an important skill. Curiosity is a special part of listening, perhaps a sub-skill. How we classify curiosity is unimportant, though, as long as we practice it and communicate it to others when we are trying to achieve understanding.

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“You really should find a way to . . .” Kim never completed her sentence or expressed her enthusiasm about an idea Josh had because he bristled when he heard the word should.

Using should is often dangerous. Like using “I” statements and reflecting back what someone has said before responding (to insure understanding), caution around using should is part of a generally accepted set of communication skills. In fact, we often chide one another for using it. The idea, of course, is that one may be (or perceived to be) robbing the other of their agency—the assumption that you know what’s right for me.

Kim, however, was not making a presumption for Josh. She was simply excited about what he was saying and thought it would be great if he . . . Josh only heard the word should and not the complete thought and reacted: “Why are you trying to tell me what to do when I’m just sharing my idea with you?” Taken aback, Kim responded, “I’m not telling you what to do!  Why are you criticizing me, when . . .” to which Josh replied, “Your controlling use of language is inappropriate.”

Discussing their linguistic process of the conversation derailed Josh and Kim and they didn’t discuss the actual issue. This happens. In fact, it happens more frequently than we’d like in intimate  relationships. Josh is linguistically sensitive. He uses words precisely because they guide his thinking and are critical to establishing meaning and understanding. Hearing Kim say should meant obligation, duty, expectation. According to the dictionary, Josh was right, but not according to Kim. She had no expectation, nor did she see it as his duty or obligation to do anything. Then why did she use the word? Josh wondered.

I could make the case that the relationship would be better served if Kim took more care in her use of language and make the case that Josh could take more care to find out what Kim means when she uses words that he strongly reacts to, like should, before taking issue with her. Our communication strengths can get us into trouble, so it’s important to recognize patterns where this happens and develop tools to mitigate conflict and promote understanding. If Josh and Kim can discuss this pattern, understanding that it reflects communication style differences and carries no bad intentions, they can develop a way to quickly acknowledge what’s happening and have an opportunity to complete the “real” conversation.

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Mark was enthusiastic about using the Communication Styles Framework to approach his marital problems with Martha. Martha, however, was more cautious. He easily identified with the interpersonal component and could see Martha’s intrapersonal strengths, and it seemed clear to him that this difference was causing communication problems in their relationship.

Mark explained that he thinks out loud a lot, saying everything (and anything!) on his mind, which he believed confused and overwhelmed her.  She agreed that this was often hard for her. Then he said that Martha thinks things through internally before offering her deeper thoughts and feelings,and how it’s hard for him to be patient through this process. Sounds pretty classical inter/intra.

At the end of Mark’s description, Martha said, “I don’t think this is why we don’t get along. We have a lot of issues and differences.” Mark didn’t know how to respond and I thought it was a good time for me to comment on Martha’s concern.

The CS Framework doesn’t relegate emotional dynamics to a place of lesser importance. Nor does it inhibit analytical understanding of our interpersonal/emotional lives. In fact it creates an emotionally safe structure, validates individual strengths, and recognizes how the communication process itself can get in the way of true understanding. With too much friction driven by style differences, almost everything feels like a problem. Once you attend to the communication styles problems, however, the core issues sift out with greater clarity.

How does this apply to Martha and Mark? When Martha realized that Mark wasn’t trying to dominate because he talked a lot, she became more trusting. And when Mark understood that he was taking up too much of the air space, he left more room for Martha to participate. Mark also recognized that Martha wasn’t withholding but genuinely needed more time to think things through, which made him less irritable and critical. These communication styles differences accounted for a significant proportion of the tension between them. By structuring their interaction to better account for these differences, they established a process better suited to discuss meaningful issues. With practice they incorporated the CS Framework and discussed issues of trust, respect, intimacy and goals for their future. They also learned how to disagree and compromise.

Learning how to develop effective communication patterns in intimate relationships is no small matter. It takes awareness and consistent effort with the right tools. The CS Framework offers those tools and an opportunity to better understand yourself and your partner, which inevitably leads
to fuller, deeper discussion.

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In short, stonewalling is an attempt to avoid discussing or doing something. We build walls to protect ourselves, and the purpose of stonewalling is to protect. Generally, stonewalling is not intended to hurt the other person but it can and would be when perceived to be disrespectful or contemptuous. Unless you’re dealing with something extreme or dangerous in a relationship, assume good intentions on the part of a “stonewaller,” even if at first that’s hard to accept.

So many men and women I work with don’t immediately acknowledge it but they are afraid of open communication in their intimate relationships, so they stonewall. Here are some reasons why:

• She/he will talk circles around me and I won’t be able to articulate my views. I’ll feel foolish.
• I don’t want to hurt her/him or the relationship. If I get frustrated, I’ll get angry and say something hurtful just to protect myself.
• My partner claims to want me to open up, but when I express vulnerability she (or he) seems uncomfortable. Am I getting a mixed message?
• He/she holds all the power in the relationship but won’t admit it. It’s too dangerous to talk about.

We avoid things because we are worried and/or afraid. When our kids avoid talking with us about something important, we intuitively understand that it must be really hard for them. They are afraid of something. Is it really any different for us as adults?

Many adults—men and women—find it hard to admit they are afraid, especially when it comes to talking intimately. If you can accept the idea that your partner has good intentions, is probably afraid of something, and is worried about how to talk effectively concerning a difficult situation, you will set a better tone for the conversation. Acknowledging your own worries and good intentions up front helps, too. In fact, it’s always a good idea to state upfront your own intentions and goals when beginning any important conversation. This puts the other person at ease, which makes it easier for him or her to respond in kind.

Keep in mind that discussing a sensitive issue is difficult. It’s not a one time conversation and if/when we expect it to be, we’re in trouble. Sometimes it’s better to express your intentions, acknowledge that it’s also difficult for you to talk about, and you just want to get some thoughts on the table for the two of you to think about. Then after you’ve had a chance to mull it over, you can get back together for a real discussion.