A Second Chance to Hear

A need for care and compassion came up for me that propelled me to want to tend to the upset woman in the store. It was only when I ran up against what seemed like the morally right thing to do (avoid taking sides or sharing my opinion while giving empathy) that the disconnect in our conversation was finally sparked in both of us.

While I sit with compassion and understanding around the intention under my attempt to contribute to the woman’s life (before really hearing what was up for her), it is clear to me that I invested in a strategy that I was sure was the “right” one to do in the context of communicating nonviolently. I failed (in the least punishing sense of that word) to first consider whether or not my language was really supporting what she was needing or requesting.

So strong in fact was my want to help (by “doing NVC”) that my needs for integrity to the “method” (wanting it recognized as a desire to help) became (unconsciously) more important to me than hers at that moment, and my language consequently foregrounded my needs against what was actually alive in her for me to hear.

Secondly, I also failed at that moment to hear what was actually going on in me, at least enough so to express myself authentically in response to her (mostly unheard) request.

Were I to relive that moment now, positing instead of the language I used that expressed the potency of my beliefs of what I ought to do (and stimulated disconnection), my capacity for full presence to the aliveness in another and in myself, I imagine the situation may have gone like this:

Kelsey: Ma’am? Look, I was overhearing what you were saying at the check-out just now. It sounds like you were pretty distressed over what was happening with the coupon.

Woman: You know, I just can’t believe what passes as service these days! It’s inexcusable!

<Kelsey hears beneath the words: I’m in disbelief around what just happened because I so value receiving help and support when I’m feeling troubled by something in that way.>

K: Mm, yeah, so it sounds like you were really hoping for some more help and support around it.

Woman: It was inexcusable! I mean, am I wrong?

<Kelsey hears: I’m really wanting to hear if someone else values the sort of respect and support I’m needing.>

K: Hm, I’m guessing that you’d really like to know if anyone else values respect and support the way you do.

W: Well, do you? Am I just so wrong to want to be treated like a human being?

<Kelsey checks in with himself: I’m hearing possible needs for acceptance and mutuality in this woman. I’m nervous about conveying a false sense of agreement with her around her judgments of the cashier or of anyone else, but I do want to help support her in being heard for the pain she’s experiencing.>

K: Yeah, I’m really resonating with how much you’d like someone to see you as a fellow human being and not just a problem to get through. It means a lot to me, too, to promote the sort of respect for others that I would want for myself. Does it help to hear that?

(This exercise of fantasizing such a different outcome doesn’t necessarily prove that had I handled it differently that it would have resulted in a more connected space for us. However, it does allow me to see almost exactly where the conversation stopped being a matter of resonating and being present to the other’s needs [as I’d originally hoped I would do] as well as my own, and more a matter of trying to live out the story of my belief in the situation [“agreement with judgments isn’t right”].)

The moment in reality that I engaged in “right-wrong thinking” — “it’s wrong to give my opinion in the midst of giving someone else empathy” or “it’s wrong to support someone’s need for respect where it stands to be misinterpreted as me siding with them on the issue” — I disconnected from her and from myself. I reacted instead from a fear of countering some sort of moral “integrity” to the judgments that were up for each of us. 

In my hypothesized version, however, when I really let go of the preconceptions and judgments I had around the opinions she held (toward “good service” or “the horrible cashier,” or just “people in general”) and listened to what she may have really been asking for (a sense of mutuality with and acceptance of her around her needs), I stood a real chance of offering the sort of empathy she really needed, not just the sort I really wanted to give — or believed I ought to give.

And I stood a chance of creating the space I wanted all along: a space for connection through the opportunity offered by her pain.

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