A few months back, I wrote an article that got a ton of attention — Stop Giving Unsolicited Advice — where I dove into the psychology of why we give advice and what to do instead. There was one sentence in it that was highlighted a bazillion times on Medium (exaggeration added) and it was this: people don’t want to be fixed, they want to be known.
I thought that was one of the least impressive lines in the article. Writing is humbling isn’t it? It shows you how wrong you can be and where the real interest lies. Since then, I’ve spent some time thinking about why that line struck a chord with so many people. It speaks to what we really want out of any relationship. We want to be known and loved anyways. What does this actually look like? 1. We Want Our Full Self To Be Accepted. For so much of our lives, we trade authenticity for attachment. We don’t show up fully ourselves for fear that those in our life will leave. We’d rather have the relationship than take up space in it. Then they leave anyways. We learn from the lesson and choose to live authentically going forward. I will be me — the right people will stay, the wrong people will leave. From that point on we’re searching for those who will embrace all that we are. We want to be able to dance and not get ridiculed. We want to be messy and goofy and not at all put together, and for it to be celebrated. We want to bear our scars without judgment. We don’t want to be fixed. We want our realselves to be accepted — not the dress up version of ourselves we usually present to the world. This is me. This is really me, no editing. And we want the other person to say yes, it’s marvelous, and I wouldn’t change a thing. 2. We Want A Witness To Our Life. I’m not a big social media person. I’ve had bouts where I’ll try it for a few months, then deactivate. What’s interesting is what happens right after. Suddenly, I’ll be out and about and something noteworthy happens to me. I instantly want to document it and share it with the world. Then I get share withdrawal — oh wait! I’m not on social media anymore. Social media is so addictive because it gives the illusion of people bearing witness to our life. We feel like our life is seen, and therefore, validated in some way. But it’s faux validation. In real witnessing, the other person also shares something about their life in response, it’s a give and take. Social media can often be one way. And it’s curated — people only bear witness to what we want them to see. What we really want out of relationships is a partner for the road. We want someone to walk through this life with us, through the hills and valleys, and to bear witness to the journey. It’s why we make vacations with other people. Experiences are not meaningful unless shared. We want to be seen. Thoroughly seen. For most of my life I’ve flown below the radar. The shy girl who’s stayed on the margins. The type that grows accustomed to people not noticing. I remember one moment of really putting myself out there, and not receiving much positive response, and it really bothered me. My boyfriend at the time asked me ‘What exactly are you feeling right now?’ I took a moment, thought about it, and said ‘Unseen. I feel ignored and unseen.’ ‘I see you, MaryBeth. I see all of you and it’s perfect.’ That statement made all of the hurt go away. By actually looking at someone, and seeing them in their moment of pain, we have the power to be a master healer. This is what we all really want: someone who is present, focused, grounded, attentive. A witness for the journey. 3. We Want Someone To Grow With Us. We want to be challenged. We want someone who calls us on our sh*t. Men want a woman who speaks to the king in him. Women want a man who encourages her to step into her flourishing. Mature people want an equal — mentally, emotionally, physically, financially. We don’t want a project, we want a partner. We want someone to inspire us to be the best version of us. 4. We Want To Compose A Symphony. When two separately incredible people come together it can be magical. We want to build a life with someone, where both people are contributing. And together? It becomes a symphony. I add some notes here, you add the harmony, then there are verses, then the coda. Then we add the strings section, and the crescendo. Our symphony is riveting and unlike anyone else’s. There are comfortable parts, like the chorus, and unique parts like the bridge. But we’ve composed it together, and that’s what makes it beautiful. 5. We Want To Be A Hiding Place. We want the embrace. We want to be held. When I think about relationships, a song comes to mind — Lay My Head Down by the Indigo Girls. “I want to lay my head down on you Because you’re the only solid thing in this room.” I want to be the recipient of that. All your little disappointments and fears? I want to bottle them up and keep them safe. These precious jars that contain your struggles, your scars, your insecurities — I will handle them with care. I will not traffic them to others, not for any price. I want to be your only solid thing in this room. And we want it reciprocated. I want you to hold space for me as I spread my wings and flourish, as I learn what it means to surrender. I want you to be my hiding place. I want you to be my only solid thing in this room. This is what we want. This is what we all want.
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We have an achievement-compulsive-disorder epidemic on our hands.
“When I get _______ then I’ll celebrate.” “When I get ______ then I’ll be happy.” As a society, how many times have we collectively thought this? More digits than pi. “I’m just goal orientated. I’m driven, I want to meet my full potential, & I don’t have the time to slow down and smell the flowers.” That sentiment sounds good, but can slide into dangerous territory very quickly, specifically when: 1) I put fulfillment on-hold until said achievement is obtained. 2) I get the achievement, and I immediately move the goal post. “Of course you have to move the goal post. You clearly don’t understand what it takes to get ahead.” On the contrary. It’s my biography. I’ve always been attracted to high-achievers, both romantically and platonically. The go-getter. The active, assertive, ‘on-it’ type. Growing up, my parents were high-achievers. Groneks never quit. They were hard-working and dedicated. While they went after what they wanted, they always took time to celebrate milestones — their own and that of others. We were pretty poor, but my parents took the time and resources to acknowledge birthdays, graduations, job offers, promotions. I remember celebrating very specific things like getting a big part in the school play and my first literary publication. My home life was far from perfect, but this element was spot on — holding achievement & celebration hand in hand. We took time to pause and commemorate the achievement. We took time to stand in awe of the person who achieved it. The more I live and encounter others, the more I see this is not the norm. High-achievers struggle with taking a moment to celebrate before moving on to the ‘next big thing.’ Those Jones’ aren’t going to keep up with themselves. I’ve tried (without success) to get celebration-resisters to observe little victories. This feels a lot like trying to convince a 5-year-old who wants gummy bears that he actually wants broccoli instead — a fruitless endeavor. High achievers often object: “If I celebrate little things, I’ll get lazy and complacent.” They posit that taking a moment to celebrate will decrease their drive. To which I respond literally every institution disagrees with you. Employers give their employees paid time off, communicating that time to reflect, unwind, and celebrate with loved ones is important. Restaurants give space between courses to revel in the dish that came before. Organized religions celebrate holy days (holidays) as a time to connect with each other and the divine. I could give countless other reasons, but have come to realize that logically trying to convince a celebration-resister is not effective. Much like motivation, the desire to celebrate must come from within. Every high-achiever must get to this place in their own growth first: success without fulfillment is the ultimate failure. Failure isn’t falling short of what you wanted, it’s getting what you wanted and still not being satisfied. That’s the real tragedy. Only when we value fulfillment as much as success will we start to see the value of celebrating. I’m beginning to see your point. How do I change my ways? 1. Think small. Get good at mini-celebrations. Don’t think big scale (like graduations or career change). Those events happen too infrequently to form a celebratory habit. Think smaller.
2. Have the chocolate cake. Celebrating the small things should be a daily exercise. There’s a terrific bakery down the street, of which I am a regular patron. First name basis, thank you 💁. I buy a slice of chocolate cake (practically) every day. The guy behind the counter, Wess, always gives me that puzzled you eat so much cake for such a small person look. After a full day of leaving it all on the field, coming home to a slice of cake and a glass of pinor noir is a ritual I look forward to it. It’s my way of celebrating my efforts on a regular basis. Chocolate cake might not be your thing (having trouble believing such people exist), but it’s important to find other small ways of celebrating every day.
3. Write it down. I have a Win Jar on my kitchen counter. Whenever I have a small victory, I write it on a piece of paper and put it in the jar. A risk I took. A moment of vulnerability. A world-series-level date. A favorable outcome resulting from good choices. Right around New Years Eve, I open each piece of paper and read it. It’s a precious ritual: a moment to reflect on how I’ve grown over the year, as well as a time to get excited about all that the new year holds. This is the thing high-achievers often miss — celebration is a terrific motivator. 4. Choose the pompoms. Relationships are a choice and we need to choose cheerleaders. I’ve learned that the ability to celebrate is a non-negotiable when it comes to selecting those who have access to me and my life. When you achieve something, big or small, you want those in your inner circle to say something along the lines of ‘That’s incredible! Let’s celebrate. Thursday. You. Me. Happy Hour.’ These types of people are relational goldmines — precious, rare, and abundant. Willingness to celebrate victories communicates not just that you see the work that went into the achievement, but that you see who I became in the process. These are the kind of people you want to hold onto. They will bring you from one degree of glory to the next. So, come join me. Think small. Have the chocolate cake. Write it down. Choose the pompoms. It’s time we embraced a celebratory spirit. It’s time we moved toward contentment. It’s time our outward success matched our inward fulfillment. And… It’s time to celebrate this article I just wrote. I’m going to grab a slice of cake. Question is, will you be joining me? Yet another one. An email demanding you act on something quickly. No greeting. No expression of good faith. No humanity. Terse words that shout at you to fix something, improve something, produce something. All, of course, by yesterday. Can someone please tell this entitled brigade knocking on my inbox that my job does not revolve around their wishes? I call this type of email The Rude Demand, and it isn’t the only type of email we loathe to receive. Below is the full list. 1. The Rude Demand (see above). 2. Mama Borg. These are the emails that are just boring: sterile, dispassionate, devoid of any warmth. No exclamation points. No humor. No levity. It’s as if the Borg Collective has assimilated their inbox. People avoid their emails for the same reason they avoid glum Aunt Norma - no excitement. Sterility, 1. Humanity, 0. 3. The Charles Dickens. Dickens was paid by the word, and so (seemingly) was this sender. They write you a tome the lengths of which rival The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, complete with bullet points, color-coded items, and yes, the dreaded 'next steps' section. People avoid their emails for the same reason they avoid going back to school - homework. Long Email, 1. Likelihood of Me Fulfilling your ‘Action Items,’ 0. 4. The Passive Aggressive Leaker. This is the person that won’t come out and say ‘You’re stupid, why are you asking me this,’ but will instead, leak this mindset through every rich-text-format option at their disposal. “Per the email I sent out multiple times previously. This group is NOT for discussing issues pertaining to x. Please be clear in the future about what you mean before sending.” The type whose keyboard just staged a walkout from all the bold, underlining, and italics overuse. Self-sabotage, 1. Emily-Post-Would-Be-Proud-Of-You, 0. 5. Jekyll & Hyde. This is the bi-polar emailer. They send curt and obviously-written-in-haste emails to those ‘beneath’ them while sending elaborate, painstakingly-looked-over emails to their superiors. They are oblivious to the fact that everyone can see through their pandering. Every time you get one of their emails, you’re reminded of the fact that they would treat you much better if you had a c-suite title to your name. Power-grab, 1. Consistency, 0. While the above five senders may have different motivations and manifestations, the end result of the recipient is the same: we don’t look forward to their correspondence. We avoid their emails (and oftentimes them) if we can get away with it. Most email writers ignore this basic tenet of human psychology: pleasure is the greatest motivator. If my first encounter with you is enjoyable, I will look forward to it again. In fact, I may seek you out. The inverse is also true - one passive aggressive email, and you best bet I’ll be rolling my eyes when I see your name come up in my inbox the next time. We repeat things we enjoy. Emails should be enjoyable.
I receive responses like this regularly from the 6,500+ customers in my user group. People who look forward to my emails. People who get bombarded with emails on a daily basis, and choose to open mine faithfully. It’s both an honor and a responsibility I take seriously. The average person spends 11 hours a week reading and answering emails - that’s 28% of the work week. You would think this large of a slice would warrant deeper scrutiny and strategy. Not! When was the last time you saw an email etiquette component as a part of new hire on-boarding? Or how about the latest communication seminar you attended - did it have a component on communicating effectively over email? We are woefully and aggressively lacking in the basic skills of results-driven email writing, and there doesn't seem to be much guidance or strategy out there in ways of remedy. The essence of the problem can be crystallized as such: the majority of emails are selfish. People only send an email when they want something from you: a question answered, a problem solved, a meeting scheduled, a metric produced. Do me a favor. Open your inbox right now and tell me how many of your first 25 emails do not require something from you. I’ll wait. You’ll be hard-pressed to find an email whose sole purpose is to give and not take. And this observation, right here, is how we change the game. This is how we get people to actually want to read our emails. —> Shift from Taking to Giving We have to shift our mindset from ‘how can I get this person to do what I want’ to ‘how can I add value to their life?’ We can add value in the following ways. Mastery We all want to be better at our jobs. Send out an email whose sole purpose is to build acumen in something that is integral to the recipient’s day-to-day work. When I first started at my current ‘day job’ four years ago, I noticed that the majority of our users only knew the bare bones of our systems. There were pieces of functionality, reports, and click paths that would make their job much easier, the majority of which were unknown by the largest swath of our customers. I decided to start a user group where I would send out a system ‘Quick Tip’ every Tuesday to those who subscribed to my group. Each week, subscribers would receive a little nugget of knowledge (screenshots, step-by-step exercises, & training videos) aimed at building acumen in the system. I had no marketing campaign, no big launch from senior leadership. But even so, the emails came flooding in. 'OMG I had no idea I could do this! Thanks for sending out these weekly tips, they are saving me a bunch of time.' Word of mouth spread, and two years later, I currently have 6,500+ customers who willingly - yes willingly - opt in to receive my emails and rely on them for on-going professional development. Warmth How you show up on email is everything. Each email you send is building your brand. Yes, you have an email brand. Yes, you should be intentional about it. Don’t be afraid to show some emotion (dare I say excitement!) via email. Have a little levity. Have a little playfulness. It humanizes you. People are more likely to learn from you (and do what you want, btw) if you are approachable. This is true in real life and it’s also true on email. A little less RBF, and a little more positive energy on email goes a long way. One of the reasons my user subscription is so high is because I deliver the content with warmth. My customers tell me this repeatedly. Most ‘official’ emails sound robotic. Who wants to learn from a robot? My emails sound like me. It’s important that your emails have a strong voice, your voice. Your delivery should be congruent no matter what communication medium you are leveraging. Little ‘Extras’ Imagine a cake without icing. It loses its appeal doesn’t it? Adding little ‘extras’ in your email, while not substantive, act as the icing on the cake of your content. In my weekly Quick Tips, I have a short section at the bottom called Word on the Street. It features fun, whimsical, and interesting things that happened that week. Perhaps Amazon announced it started delivering to garages. Or a report came out ranking the cleanliness of football stadiums nationwide. I include a brief, one-sentence blurb of a few noteworthy items and link off to an article for each. This adds immense value. People don’t just want to excel at their jobs, they want to be better conversationalists. Giving someone a few hand-picked, interesting topics to discuss with anyone that week is incredibly useful. I get so many emails from customers saying something to the effect of 'Your technical tips are great, but my favorite part is the Word on the Street section.' It's the icing that sweetens the deal. ;) Gratitude We will run marathons for people who truly appreciate us. Gratitude engenders respect, respect begets loyalty. When was the last time you emailed someone with a genuine thank you? Very few people send thank you emails; most people send ‘thank you - and’ emails. They say thank you, only as a primer to what they want to you to do next. 'MaryBeth you did a great job at the presentation. Now we really need to focus on converting results to ….' The thank you is used as a warm-up to get you motivated to do whatever follows. It’s not a simple thank you. It’s a thank you - and. People can smell the manipulation a mile away. I challenge you to send 3 thank you emails each week. A straightforward thank you, no strings attached. Compliments Most people enjoy being affirmed. We like when people shine a light on our skills, attributes, contributions, and successes. It makes us feel capable and wanted. It makes us feel valued. Human nature 101: we value people who value us. Take time out of your day to send a heart-felt compliment to someone via email. Like gratitude, this should be no strings attached. No agenda. You best bet the next time this person sees an email from you, they will open it. Whether you’re trying to start an email subscription group, trying to create repeat customers, or trying to build a brand, remember this: everyone starts with zero followers. And most people stay there by solely focusing on themselves and what they want. If you want to gain an email faithful, you need to start focusing on how to add value to their lives, not your own.
Ask yourself this, would people still do what I want if I didn’t have the fancy title and the big corner office? If the answer is no, you don’t have loyalty, you have compliance. And compliance doesn’t motivate someone to tell others how awesome you are. Compliance doesn’t translate into positive word-of-mouth. Compliance doesn’t make followers. Let’s aim for real influence. That starts in the way we interact with others, especially on email. Focus on enriching others. Focus on adding value. And then be patient. Really patient. Slowly, you’ll get their trust. Slowly, you’ll get their loyalty. Then, well, the rest is history 😉 I’ll take a weathered person any day. Someone who’s been through the muck, who’s been waterboarded in the sea of tribulation. Resilient, bold-face, humble. Not the type who goes looking for a fight, but the one who can hold their own when the fight is thrust upon them.
The kind that laughs in the face of adversity. Not because they know what is to come, but because they don’t fear it. Because they bring their best defense - themselves. Tried and true. Battle-tested. Someone who has gone through deep hardship and has emerged better, not bitter. Most people put a premium on innocence. A newborn baby, a fresh blanket of snow, a new company hire. The allure of innocence is that it is uncorrupted. The newborn is unstained by the world, the snow is undisturbed by footprints, the new hire is untainted by workplace culture. There is a beauty to purity that takes our breath away. That being said, I’ll take the experienced person any day. The toddler who scrapes his knee on the playground and comes back the next day for more. The snow that has been commingled with human hands to form a snowman. The practiced manager who can adeptly navigate workplace politics to get the job done. I like my people seasoned. People who have delved deeply into life, who have taken risks, and lived full out. People who have failed over and over again and keep trying. People who stay in the arena. They are seasoned. Seasoned by experience. Seasoned by choice. Why have a steak with just salt when you can have one marinated overnight with all sorts of interesting spices? It tastes better that way. While innocent people take our breath away, weathered people leave us thirsty for more. I have an ’02 Jeep Wrangler. I call her Emma. We’ve been through a lot together. The first job I loved. The first man I loved. The first apartment that broke my bank account. The first man that broke my heart. Emma is a weathered vehicle. She makes a wurring sound every time I start her, her back bumper is sprinkled with rust stains, and she growls every time I switch gears. Emma bears the marks of the road and the marks of my life. She’s beautiful. Over the Thanksgiving holiday last year, she broke down. The dealership gave me a loaner car while they worked on repairs. It was a brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee. It had all the bells and whistles: seat warmers, GPS, bluetooth speakers, quiet engine, and only 5,000 miles. Bright-eyed and innocent. It was fun driving the loaner for the first day or two, but after a while I started missing my Wrangler. Emma’s loud and noisy and rough around the edges, but she’s mine. She’s traveled the road with me. She bears the scars of my life. She’s a daily reminder that despite hardship, life keeps moving on. The road continues, and so do I. No innocence can compare. See here’s the thing: innocence doesn’t last. The world is cruel. Suffering eventually arrives on every person’s doorstep. It’s what we do in that moment that defines us. Adversity reveals what we are truly made of. Imagine a glass full of a mysterious liquid. You don’t know what is inside, because the glass is opaque. How do you find out? You shake the table. The liquid comes pouring over the side and you see - ahhh it’s milk, revealing an important truth: We spill what we are full of. It is only when our life is shaken with the most violent of storms that we see our true character. When things get hard do we run? Hide? Lash out at those we love? Vow to never take a risk again? That’s the real us. What is your type? Anyone who has dated has been asked the above question. I’ll tell you - my type is a person of character, who adores me, and has born adversity as well. The last part isn’t so sexy, but gosh it’s important. I don’t want someone who runs away at the first sign of turbulence. I don’t want someone to disappear when things get hard. Commitment is great. Compatibility is great. But without courage, the other two are sinking ships. Those looking for a life partner must look for someone who has born adversity well. Because hardships do arise, and we want someone who can weather the storm with us. So, to make a long answer longer, my ‘type’ is weathered. The man who’s experienced rejection over and over again but still takes risks. The woman who’s been treated poorly and still chooses to stay sweet and gentle. The person who’s been through hell and back and still lives full out. Because, the best book has the dustiest cover. Because, the best shoes have the shabbiest sole. Because we learn from weathered people. Their sojourns have brought them to far and distant lands. They are wise and knowledgeable, bearing the marks of hard-earned lessons. They are a walking library. Those with teachable spirits benefit from their tutelage. To be in their presence is to walk among the gods. The world does not deserve them. It will be my joy to befriend you, weary traveler. You are interesting, seasoned, tested. Your impurities were scorched in the sweltering hot furnace, and you came forth as gold. Your scars are beautiful. They remind me of what you have overcome. So hold court for us, weathered kings & queens. We pull up a seat. We’re all ears. --Dedicated to Malina & Kailyn, two of the most beautifully weathered people I know-- xoxo I recently attended a high-profile personal development event. The speakers were crème de la crème: Tony Robbins, Gary Vaynerchuk, Shark Tank’s ‘Mr. Wonderful’ to name a few. The kind of conference where you jump up and down, have multiple rounds of ugly cry, become best friends with the people sitting next to you, and yes, experience incredible personal breakthrough. Sometimes the breakthroughs come from unusual places. I happened to be sitting next to an interesting gentleman. He was the president of a company. Tall, dark, handsome, confident, intelligent, attentive — the type of man that makes a woman’s heart go pitter patter (ladies, you understand). We bonded over Myers Briggs, Dale Carnegie, and our cocaine-like addition to reading books. In the middle of a rather deep conversation about a business loss, I said to him ‘I really admire the way you were able to pick back up and start all over again. It shows courage.’ To which he responded, ‘Not really. It’s just in my nature to keep going.’ I winced. It felt like a giant industrial machine just plowed through my field of kind sentiments. Later in the conversation, I gave him another compliment about a particular mindset he possessed. Whack. He swatted that one away too. We eventually started talking about the 5 Love Languages. He revealed that his main love language was words of affirmation. My face must have betrayed my bewilderment. “You look surprised,” he said, eyebrow raised. I see so many people messing this up. Well-meaning, kind people. People who want to excel in life and in relationships, but keep shooting themselves in the foot. Here’s the big idea: dismissing compliments erodes your influence. Let’s look at some common compliments.
Now let’s look at how people reject compliments. They use false humility. To your ‘I like your sweater’ compliment, this person may respond:
They underplay their abilities. To your ‘great job on the presentation’ compliment, this person may respond:
They focus on the negative.
They make it transactional. Another bizarre response is the recipient’s knee-jerk reaction to compliment right back. ‘I like your sweater.’ ‘Oh, I like yours too!’ ‘You’re so insightful’ ‘Oh, you’re smart too!’ Just, stop. This isn’t a tennis match. You don’t owe the other person anything. Compliments are a gift, not a tit-for-tat game. They belittle. This one is more rare. To your ‘I agree with you, you have interesting insights,’ compliment, this person will respond, ‘You just mirrored what I said. Congratulations, you can hear.’ Overly-sarcastic. Biting. In some twisted way, this person takes compliments as a way to puff up their own ego and put you down. It’s an effort to get the upper hand. RUN. What’s so bad about rejecting compliments? I mean, there are worse things I could be doing, like torturing puppies or stealing canes from the elderly. What’s the big deal? It makes you look insecure. When you reject a compliment about your appearance, skills, mental abilities, or efforts, it makes you look weak. It makes you look like you don’t believe in yourself. If you don’t believe in your value, why should anyone else? It communicates you cannot receive. Relationships are a give and take. We all like to be looked after. We also enjoying doing the looking after. The healthiest relationships are ones where both individuals are able to give and receive in a fluid, organic way. By rejecting a compliment you demonstrate that you are only comfortable giving, not receiving. That’s boring. But if I receive, won’t that make me too reliant on others and therefore weak? On the contrary. While you might be able to take care of things all by yourself, acknowledging that a life with others edifies your own is a position of strength. It’s insulting. Giving someone a compliment is like giving a gift: unexpected, thoughtful, joy-producing. Can you imagine a birthday celebration where someone opened a gift you gave them and instead of expressing excitement and gratitude, they walk right up to you and place the gift back in your lap? Ouch. Rejecting a compliment is like rejecting a gift. It’s yucky, rude, and frankly embarrassing. It’s low-level gas-lighting. When you give someone a compliment and they reject it, they are not just rejecting the compliment, they are rejecting your evaluation of reality. We all come to our conclusions based on obvious facts (at least we like to believe so) —e.g. he held the door open for me, therefore he is thoughtful. When you reject the compliment, you are forcing the giver to replay the whole sequence of events in their mind to make sure they picked up on all the cues correctly. In a subtle way, you’re making them doubt reality. It’s low-level gas-lighting. With similar repeat occurrences, the compliment-giver will associate you with feelings of being uncertain in their thought processes. This will make confident people want to avoid you in the future. It’s contrary to your own interests. We don’t attract what we want, we attract who we are. If you are overly critical and routinely reject compliments, you will find, overtime, that you attract critical people. If you want your life filled with people who will encourage you and build you up, stop rejecting overtures of people who are trying to do just that. Negative energy attracts negative people. That will not serve you well in life. So, how do I respond to a compliment? Accept it, humbly. Smile, say ‘thank you’, then move on in the conversation. That’s it? Yes, that’s it. If it helps, mentally imagine yourself receiving a birthday gift. Taking it in. Owning it. Letting it fill you with joy. Sometimes, receiving a gift can be a bit of a surprise. The shirt really isn’t your style or the book is not really in your preferred genre. Or sometimes the giver misses the mark completely and gives you something bizarre. Receiving such a gift can be a bit awkward because you’re not sure you like it. Yet, you smile, accept it gracefully, and move on. And here’s the oh-so-funny thing. That shirt you didn’t like? You try it on later in the evening and it looks incredible. It ends up being a staple in your wardrobe. And that book you initially thought was weird? It ends up opening your world to a whole new way of thinking. It becomes one of your favorites that you frequently recommend to others. Like a present, some compliments take us by surprise. We need to try them on for size, digest them, read between the lines, and check out the footnotes. They reveal aspects of ourselves we did not see initially. These are the compliments that live long after the initial delivery and end up shaping us in critical ways. So say, ‘thank you.’ Say it again and again, even if the compliment is shocking. You’ll notice the more you say it, the more compliments you receive. The inverse is also true. See, that’s the thing about rejecting compliments; soon enough, people stop giving them. What is it about pain that makes us want to run in the other direction? I’m not talking about when we experience pain ourselves (although we’re not rousing fans of that either). I’m talking about when someone in our lives is in the throws of deep suffering and we’d rather watch episodes of Ready Set Cook than check in. These aren’t pint-size pains like Martha the arthritic senior, Samuel who just broke up with his girlfriend, or Kat whose cat (also named Kat) passed away. Those are on the ‘manageable’ side of the pain spectrum, and thus much easier to wade into. Not so hurtful, easy to get over. It’s fairly simple to be there for your friend amidst this sort of low-impact pain. I’m talking about the heart-wrenching, stomach-churning, wail-producing sort of pain that leaves you with a metaphysical conviction that life is just not fair. I’m talking about high-impact pain. Some examples include:
If your answer every time is a resounding yes, well then, you are incredible. You are courageous and kind. The world does not deserve you. If you’re like me, you’re ashamed to admit that on your bad days, the answer to this question is no. The reaction of many to high-impact suffering is to avoid. You know you should want to check in and provide comfort, but deep down, you’d rather not. You’d rather curl up under a blanket and not face them. Then you feel guilty that you don’t want to reach out, which makes it 1000x worse. You find stupidly meaningless things to do instead of contacting them. Re-organizing your silverware drawer. Binging Marie Kondo on Netflix. Looking at houses you can’t afford on Zillow. Stalking high school acquaintances on social media. Meanwhile, in your head, the lies you tell yourself to help deal with your own cowardice include:
(None of these, btw, are the real reason) So we don’t reach out. We distance. We ignore. And then so much time passes that it now feels awkward to engage — even if the pain, scandal, or loss has now passed. The giant elephant in the room — I wasn’t there when you needed me — makes it easier to continue our Avoidance Campaign. Regret gives birth to shame. So we soldier on, valiantly, in the shadows. Only to wake up one morning and realize a year has passed. I-don’t-know-how-to-approach-this-person-in-their-pain has suddenly morphed into I-shunned-a-person-who-was-suffering. It’s inexcusable and unsettling. We’re left wondering How could I be so awful? Is there hope for a meaningful relationship with this person going forward? How on earth will I show my face to them again? Hint: we usually don’t. Meanwhile, on the other side of the isle, we have the person experiencing the suffering. What exactly is going through their mind, you ask? Step 1 is acknowledging the pain to themselves. This is part of me. This is part of my life now. I must determine how to live a fulfilled life with this suffering. No more pity parties. Step 2 is acknowledging the pain to others. I’ve lived through years of chronic, physical pain. You get to the point where the pain is so bad, and for such an extended period of time, that you can’t keep it from others. Withholding feels a lot more like lying. Withholding also expends too much energy, energy that is better used elsewhere when your tank is already on empty. Putting on a fake face and pretending everything is okay is no longer an option. You have to accept that your emotions will manifest what your body is experiencing. You will come to find that once you’ve embraced this, speaking the brutal truth suddenly feels comfortable. A typical run-in with an acquaintance during my pain period went something like this: ‘So, how’s it going, MaryBeth?’ ‘Actually I’m not doing that well today.’ ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could stop & chat, but I have to go. Nice seeing you.’ Mmmmkay. I’ll just sit here and nurse my gaping wounds, now increased by that power-packed jab to my vulnerability. P.S. have you noticed that most people who ask the ‘how are you question’ expect a positive response, and, upon receiving a negative one, seem to be irritated and inconvenienced? ‘How dare you dampen my day with your bad news!’ They seem to say. Step 3 is settling into quasi-isolation. You still have to go to work and run errands, but when it comes to your private life, people engage with you differently. Suddenly, the phone calls stop. The invites stop. Instead of distractions and encouragement, you’re left to feast on nothing but your suffering. The thing that makes pain unbearable isn’t the feeling itself, it’s the sensation of being alone in it. It’s the ‘no one understands’ ‘no one cares’ conga line that seems to be on repeat in your head, only bolstered, might I add, by interactions like the one above. Having been on both the giving and receiving end of suffering avoidance, I’ve always wondered why we do this. Why do we avoid people who are in pain? Why don’t we engage those who are suffering? I’ll tell you why. We’re afraid of three things. → Afraid of saying the wrong thing. We’ve all been the recipient of cutting comments in response to our pain. The kind of comments that mean well, but sting. We’d hate to say something that will injure the person further. Driven by the fear of saying the wrong thing, we say nothing at all. → Afraid that the platitudes won’t cut it. When faced with someone’s brutal suffering, the only thing that seems to come to mind are useless platitudes like: Everything happens for a reason It will get better This will make you stronger Time will heal It even feels robotic saying these to a suffering person. The phrases are devoid of power. As Faulkner would say, they are “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Platitudes don’t help, which leads me to the last fear… → Afraid we don’t have what it takes to make it better. This is the crux of it. We know, deep down, the sufferer’s pain is so big, entrenched, and expansive, that we don’t have what it takes to make it better. We cannot fix it. And what we can’t fix, we avoid. I will not be enough for this person, so why show up in the first place. Okay, MaryBeth. I get it now. What can I do instead of avoid? Below are three options that have personally ministered to me in my season of pain. Hold space. Be free of the expectation to ‘fix’ a person’s problems. The suffering person knows you can’t solve their pain. In fact, if a potential solution exists, your friend has tried it already. What the sufferer really wants (and desperately needs) is your presence. They want someone to bear witness to their life, in the good times and the very, very, bad. Show up to their house with no agenda. Maybe you’ll talk about the pain, maybe you won’t, but at least you’re present. You’re there with them, ready to weather the storm. Show up. Get off the Solutions Committee and get on the Presence Committee. Playfully distract. Every sufferer wants to be whisked away from their pain. The best gift you can give them is a mental escape. Show up at their house and say ‘Get in the car we’re going to the park!’ Take them to comedy show. Suggest a walk around the block and don’t take no for an answer 😉. All of these things help them get out of their head, which is a good thing. It is there where they agonize over the pain. Having their mind dwell on something other than the pain, at least for a few hours, is like a drink of cold water in the desert: satisfying, rejuvenating, needed. Manage the conversation. Your friend is already overspent with their own emotions. The last thing they want to do is manage yours. Commit to becoming CEO of the interaction. Call them up on the phone and talk about yourself and what is going on in your life. Talk about your job, your kids, an exciting vacation you have planned. Don’t ask them about their pain or how they are doing. Remove any conversational responsibility from them. Carry the conversation. Give them the gift of an interaction that is both low effort and free of any pain talk. It sounds counterintuitive, but it’s quite refreshing. → → The key to implementing these three strategies is decisiveness. Don’t ask your suffering friend if they want you to come over or they want to talk. Chances are they’ll say no because the thought of talking about their pain and managing your response to it is more than they can bear. Instead, assume they would enjoy the company (they would) and implement. Confident. Grounded. Present. This sort of execution will instantly make your friend relax. They’ll be able to breathe a sigh of relief leaning on your strength as a container for their pain. An oasis in the desert. A quiet space in a crowded room. Beautifully held, refreshingly seen. “…and then he gave me an ultimatum. So I left.” For years, that phrase — and its many iterations — have bugged me. After hearing someone claim victim to an ultimatum, I feel uncomfortable and queasy. Kind of like eating cooked chicken that was in the fridge a bit too long. It doesn’t sit well with the gut. I had an epiphany of sorts the other day that cleared it up for me. ---> Claiming an ultimatum is a form of self-victimization. An ultimatum implies that something is being done to you. That you are being acted on by an outside force against your control. It implies a lack of agency. It says ‘look at this awful person doing awful things to me against my will.’ It hints at oppression. It suggests you believe you are a victim. Why is it that when someone says ‘he gave me an ultimatum’ it makes me feel like they are trying to get me to excuse whatever behavior follows? To sympathize, shake my head, and say ‘poor you?’ When people leverage the ultimatum talk, I feel like a hostage in the conversation. It seems calculated to elicit a contrived response from the hearer — one of reflexive sympathy and complete absolution. ‘Ultimatum’ is just a fancy word for decisions we don’t want to make. We’d garner much more respect by saying ‘she gave me a hard decision’ instead of ‘she gave me an ultimatum.’ See, a decision implies responsibility. It takes courage, a stepping up to the plate, and owning what follows. A decision says ‘Yes. This is what I choose. Yes. I own it. Yes. I take responsibility for it.’ More importantly — a decision comes from a person who has agency, who has control of their own mind. A decision can’t be done to you or done for you, it must be self-determined. How about instead of ‘ultimatums’ we just own our decisions. How about the next time someone gives us a hard choice to make, we make it confidently without reservation. But MaryBeth, how can I be confident in a choice when it is sprung upon me? This “choice” came out of left field. And btw, have I mentioned it’s hard? Just because something is sprung upon us doesn’t mean we have to respond in equal speed. Confidence does not materialize out of the ether; it is a result of deliberate thinking. To be confident in our choices, we must take the necessary time to determine the best course of action. Confidence comes from knowing what we are doing is right. So what do I say when someone asks me to make a choice I’m not ready to make? ‘I’ll have to think on that. Let me get back to you.’ And if they continue to press you, here’s another version, a bit stronger.. ‘I’m not ready to make that decision right now. I’ll let you know when I’m confident in my answer.’ Take all the time you need to ensure your decision is the right one. And be prepared to own the consequences. And if it turns out to be the wrong decision? Have the humility and fortitude to make it right. Let’s end the self-victimhood. Let’s have the funeral for ultimatums. |
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