On receiving feedback from someone close

Part of my ongoing Nonviolent Communication (NVC) integration journal, where I am staying with the messiness of practice and exploring how NVC lands in my relationships.

I had a call with my sister recently where she was sharing about something that was very alive in her. At one point, I repeated a sentence she said word-for-word to see how it resonated. My intention was to find out whether the sentence was touching something essential to her in the situation. Her response quickly made it clear that she was longing to be heard and seen in a different way.

She responded something like: “Hanna, I really appreciate that you listen to me with a Nonviolent Communication attitude, and at the same time, sometimes when you repeat back to me word-for-word what I said, I feel a bit annoyed. Like 'yes, I’m not stupid, I literally just said that’. Sometimes it’s helpful, but sometimes it’s like, this time I figured it out by myself.”

My internal judgments came rushing in in a split second:

“Shit, I’m doing it ‘wrong’. Maybe I’m crappy at doing Nonviolent Communication.”

“I have no idea what to say now.”

Hearing my first judgment and sensing the panic that accompanied it, I understood I needed some empathy myself to be able to receive her message. I was first longing for security and self-compassion. To see myself in my intention. To see missing the mark here and her feedback as steps supporting me on that path.

My sense of being stuck, my confusion around what to say were telling me I really wanted to hold this with empathy and care, towards both of us. I noticed I was activated and that it was impacting my capacity to respond, and I wanted to step back from reactivity. To hold the intention to hear her response as the expression of needs, and to also see my tension and thoughts as expressions of mine.

It was important to me to receive her feedback as a message about what would have supported her. She was communicating something important to her when talking to me, and I wanted to avoid shifting the focus to myself. At the same time, I was also stressed about what I was telling myself about myself, and knew I had little capacity to hear her while I was in that state.

Not knowing what to say, I acknowledged what she said with a short “ok, fair enough” and let the conversation shift to other territories. I could hear myself with compassion silently (recognising my stress when hearing her words, recognising my desire to respond instead of react, my acknowledgement that my internal reaction had nothing to do with this specific situation, and my desire for self-connection). I also noticed that I needed more time. I wanted to respond with care, to sustain safety for her to express unpleasant emotions about my actions in the future.

I did return to this in a later conversation with her, after some more reflection, when there was space in me. By then, I had managed to hear the longing behind my self-judgements and to shift from what I thought I should be able to do as a trainer, towards self-connection. I could bring my vulnerability and honesty.

There was space to share what was alive in me when receiving her feedback, and I could now hear it as a desire for attunement in our exchange, as a request to support her in being seen, and for recognition.

As a learning, if there’s something I would do differently in the future, I would already include her in my process during the first conversation, to ensure consideration and transparency. I’m thinking of something like shortly naming what was going on for me in the moment. Like: “Hey, I notice there’s something important to you here. I also notice this brings up thoughts about myself that are not connected to this situation. I’d like to sit with my thoughts for a little while so I can fully be with you and myself when we talk about what could work better. Would it be ok for you if we park it now and talk about it again in a few days?”

At the same time, I celebrate this process, there having been space to hear and see each other. This dialogue reminded me how tools can connect when there is attunement, and disconnect in the absence of it.

My sister's feedback brought insight and support about how to listen to her in a way that really meets her. Taking the time to understand why it landed with a contraction in my stomach at first helped me have the space to hear that, instead of a defensive reaction.