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Laura walked up to Carrie and began talking about something as if they had been interrupted a few minutes earlier and were simply continuing the conversation. In fact, it was the first time they had seen each other at work that day, so Carrie had no idea what Laura was referring to.

This pattern is familiar to Carrie because it happens frequently, and when it does she always says, “Wait, Laura, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”  Laura, too, is frustrated by this pattern and says, “You know . . . the project we were working on last week.” Of course it doesn’t take them long to get on the same page, but the pattern annoys and frustrates them both.

In situations like this it is common to attribute some kind of negative motivation to the other person. Given this pattern, Laura believes that Carrie wants to feel important by controlling the conversation; and Carrie sees Laura as presumptuous and sloppy in her communication.

Fortunately, Laura and Carrie began to see this pattern differently through the communication styles lens as we fleshed out their core processing strengths during a team-building project in the workplace. Here’s what happened:

Laura discovered how her core processing strengths—interpersonal, visual-spatial, and kinesthetic—combined to drive her unique communication style.  Specifically, Laura needs a lot of interaction with others to help formulate her thoughts and feelings. Therefore she frequently seeks engagement with others and because she thinks so strongly in pictures she spends a lot of time connected to her internal visual-spatial world, which, of course, is invisible to others and hard to describe in words. Because she is also kinesthetically strong, her direct experience and feelings are very important in how she processes information.

When Laura was describing her core processing strengths and how she sees them manifesting in her communication style, Carrie had an ah-ha moment and with good humor said, “Oh, now I get it!”  “Get what?” Laura asked.

Carrie found a kind, yet straightforward way to talk about her observation that Laura often starts talking about something in a way that feels like it’s coming out of the blue. Laura immediately chuckled and made a comment about how she could tell that Carrie was often annoyed with her. From there Laura articulated how she has constant conversations in her head and strongly pictures the interaction, her feelings and ideas, so when she sees someone (Carrie in this situation), she assumes a level of involvement externally that has been going on internally.

This type of conversation happens frequently during communication styles programs, and often with good humor. When what is really occurring gets illuminated, a natural problem-solving and relationship repair discussion ensues.  That happened naturally with Laura and Carrie. They decided that when Carrie can’t tell what Laura is referring to she (Carrie) will ask Laura what she’s picturing. With this simple solution, they can now quickly and efficiently manage conversations, where formerly they would have felt frustrated and irritated, even when they managed the content of the conversation to a workable conclusion.

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The Communication Styles Framework illuminates how you process information and, therefore, interact with others. The seven processing dimensions (or components, as they are called) combine differently for each individual to form a unique communication style. All seven are active ingredients in each individual, but two or three are most easily identified (Core Processing Strengths).

Other communication styles paradigms are based on personality, roles, and/or gender. These approaches look more broadly at factors that influence specific behaviors, for example, being passive, assertive, steadfast, or compliant. Introversion and extroversion are, perhaps, the most common traits.

While it is useful to be aware of these roles and personality factors, they are general and so don’t offer specific information about the underlying drivers of our communication. The CS Framework, however, does identify those underlying drivers and offers specific tools to help insure successful communication.

Here’s a personal example: I am of an introvert, yet my core processing strength is the Interpersonal Component, which combines with my auditory and kinesthetic processing strengths. This means that I seek engagement with others (thinking out loud) and rely strongly on how the message sounds and feels. Others hearing this description may have a hard time making sense of it. It’s my unique understanding of how I go about processing information, expressing myself, and listening to others. Because there are as many communication styles as there are individuals, stereotyping or pigeonholing is futile.

Although the CS Framework is based on individual strengths, it also helps us understand how our strengths can get us into trouble.  Overemphasizing a strength without recognizing that others may not have the same strength has the potential for derailing communication.  For me that might take the form of expecting too much engagement from others because I have such a strong interpersonal component to my communication style.

Finally, it’s also a good idea to challenge yourself by focusing on a less developed component (for me that would be either the logical or visual-spatial) to see what you notice.  This will broaden your self understanding and encourage you to be more aware of how others experience communication, both expressively and receptively.

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Epiphanies, those moments of absolute clarity where we experience knowing viscerally, capture our attention like nothing else. Yet in the moment the feeling can almost seem unreal or surreal—“Is this really happening?” we ask ourselves rhetorically. These moments are few and far between and we wonder how it just happened. Of course there is no answer to that question because a variety of experiences converge over time that contribute to the new found awareness. We savor these moments, yet on the heels of this new awareness we ask, “Now what?”

Are we supposed to do something new?

Is everything immediately “fixed” in our lives?

Are we forever changed?

The answer to the first question is no. Nothing new is required because whatever you’ve been doing to get to this point is exactly what you need to continue doing. The difference is that now you are more keenly aware. You are better informed about yourself and have a deeper connection to your own experience. These phrases can sound slippery but to the person experiencing the epiphany they have clarity and meaning.

The answer to question two is also no. Everything is not immediately fixed. With the new awareness, however, comes more freedom of choice, the opportunity to be more grounded and flexible in making decisions about your own behavior. In a sense this means being in better control of yourself—experiencing your feelings more clearly and making decisions with more available options. Of course, those options were always there, you realize, but somehow you could not avail yourself of them. Now you can.

The answer to question three is yes, but here there is a paradox.  Although an internal shift has occurred and you feel different in some way, you actually are more yourself, or perhaps another way to say it is that you are more connected to yourself. In that connection you are changed but are still more or less the same. As I said, a paradox.

Change is always tricky. When we experience growth in ourselves we feel more at home, and that seems like not changing. Yet as we grow, of course we change, not into a different person, but the person we know on a deeper level. It is the epiphany that opens the doorway to that deeper level and knowing.

Finally, with the epiphany comes responsibility—the responsibility to follow through on our new awareness and understanding. The epiphany doesn’t fix everything, as I’ve said, but it does increase our choices and we must continue to make good choices for ourselves. This isn’t easy. In fact it may be just as hard as before the epiphany, but now we can make decisions with greater inner resources to draw on.

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“It drives me crazy when you tell me nothing is going on, when I can tell from your voice that something is going on!” Jeri exclaimed.

“Why won’t you believe me?” Brad pleaded, “I told you, nothing’s going on!”

And so it goes. We’ve probably all been involved in a conversation of this sort at one time or another. Brad said something to Jeri and the way it sounded was incongruent with the words he used. She thinks he’s upset because she heard “upset” in his voice, which in a sense was there.

As we teased apart the emotions and details of the conversation, what we discovered was interesting and helpful. Although Brad was not upset about the issue they were discussing, he was frustrated by how the process of the discussion was evolving. This happens frequently in conversations with couples. Brad is linguistically sensitive and logical in how his thoughts progress. For him there is a distinct difference between upset and frustration, and he was adamant in telling Jeri that it was the process that was troublesome to him, not the issue.

Jeri is very auditory sensitive. She hears the subtleties in voice quality and the emotion carried by those qualities. She listens very carefully and tunes into others by how the communication sounds. So for Brad to say he’s not upset when she clearly hears him being upset drives her crazy.

This is a good example of how differences in communication style strengths can cause friction and conflict in relationships. Brad processes a conversation with linguistic and logical strengths dominant. Jeri processes primarily in the auditory and interpersonal realms. They rely on their strengths to guide them in understanding, as we all do. Yet they focus through different elements (communication components), which creates a disconnect.

Simply being aware that these differences exist, knowing how you and your partner process information and recognizing and accepting the differences while separating the process from the content in a conversation  will help minimize conflict and support an opportunity for better understanding.

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I had a conversation with a friend recently about watching professional baseball games. My friend, Lou, said “I can’t stand all the spitting. That’s all I see is constant spitting. Doesn’t that bother you?” My answer was simple, “No.”

When I watch a baseball game, I’m focused on the stance of the batter and how that reflects his concentration and level of anxiety as he anticipates the type of pitch he’ll get from the pitcher. At the same time, I’m intrigued by the thought process and body mechanics of the pitcher as he works with the catcher to establish which pitch he’s going to throw and where he’s going to throw it. Finally, I’m watching how the umpire positions himself to make an accurate call. And all of that tunes me into the emotions of each person, as best as I can connect (interpersonally) to them. I am absorbed by all these factors that communicate a richness I enjoy. The spitting gets very little of my attention.

Although our interests, history, and age influence what we like or don’t like to watch on television, our processing mechanisms and sensitivities also play a role. I’m naturally attuned to the interpersonal and kinesthetic elements, which is reflected in the above description of how I watch a baseball game.

As individauls, our focus is based more on how we process information and the type of natural awareness we possess—how we are wired—and it really is different for each of us.

Lou is very strong kinesthetically but in a much more sensory way. And he is highly intrapersonally attuned. None of this has any bearing on whether or not he enjoys baseball, but it does influence how he experiences the game on TV. He can’t stand the spitting. It physically grosses him out. I see it, but it just doesn’t effect me.

Lou also doesn’t like watching hospital dramas on television. He directly experiences the anxiety of the characters, which is upsetting and emotionally exhausting. I am thoroughly absorbed by the relationships between the characters, trying to anticipate how the relationships will unfold and how they will resolve the conflict they are experiencing.

I could tell Lou that it’s all make-believe and that he shouldn’t get so upset, but that isn’t really very understanding and it wouldn’t work anyway. He knows it’s “only a show.” He could tell me that I’m insensitive and criticize me for watching something so harsh, but that’s not a fair understanding either.

Understanding that we all process information (communication) differently encourages genuine curiosity, where we ask thoughtful, respectful questions and take care not to make assumptions about other peoples experience.

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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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Most of us don’t associate communication with Father’s Day.  But fathers do communicate whether or not they use many words.  Do you really talk to your father?  Does your father really talk to you?  Mine mostly talked at me and wanted me to talk more to him, which meant tell him what he wanted to hear.

My father was frustrated with his three sons.  He wanted at least one of us to think like him and behave accordingly.  None of us did. We each tried in our own way to talk with him, but he really didn’t want to hear what we had to say because it wasn’t in line with his ideas and world view.

In his later years, I could see how his disappointment in us created confusion for him.  He just couldn’t understand why we wouldn’t see the wisdom of his ways, which eventually made him question that very wisdom.  He became increasingly isolated during those last years.  It was a sad sight.

On one of my visits a couple of years before his death, I sat with him in the living room while he talked at me.  I was determined to be patient and let him talk as much as he wished.  Twelve hours later, it was bed time.  He talked and talked and talked.  I sat with him through two meals and the rest of the time I sat on the couch across from his recliner.  He nodded off briefly on a few occasions, but within a couple of minutes he was back at it.

He required nothing of me in the way of responding.  I said a lot of uh-huhs, yeahs, huumms, along with some questions to clarify; and occasionally I was genuinely curious about something and wanted to know more.  Usually I didn’t find out exactly what I wanted to know because he just wanted to talk.  So I let him.  It was a combination of genuine patience on my part and a desire to give him my attention, as well as a curiosity (maybe a little perverse?).

When it was time for me to leave, my father expressed regret that we didn’t have more time to talk.  I know—it’s hard to believe.  But he wanted something else that he didn’t know how to get.  He didn’t know how to connect, how to share his true emotions, how to ask me about myself—my hopes, struggles, dreams.

Over the years when I attempted to share more of my inner self, he was uncomfortable, dismissive or just thought I was ridiculous.  Needless to say, my attempts had larger spaces between them over time.

When I became a father, I was very determined to talk with my son, not at him.  I listened, asked questions to understand and spent time with him doing many ordinary things during his growing up.  Now that he is an adult, the conversation continues.  Today, Father’s Day, we talked for an hour.  We discussed our jobs, reminisced about past Father’s Days, got caught up on various family members, discussed politics, and shared our aspirations.  It’s not uncommon for us to have these conversations on other days, too.

Having the relationship I have with my son is one of the most important things in my life.  On Father’s Day and every day I am so grateful that I can have real conversations with my son.  I know I’ll have other regrets in my life, but that won’t be one of them.