My fav quotes:
- He suddenly stopped as if he’d just realised Mary Anne was a police officer.
‘You don’t give a shit, you’re just going to arrest me anyway!’ he said, eyeballing her, like a wild bull about to charge.
Mary Anne was a totem of calm and reassurance. ‘If we have to do that, we’ll do that, but right now I just want you to explain what’s happening. What’s your name?’
‘Thomas,’ the man said, sharp and suspicious.
‘OK Thomas, you got anything on you I need to know about?’ Mary Anne asked calmly.
‘No,’ Thomas muttered.
‘OK, turn out your pockets for me OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah – I know the goddamn drill!’ he barked back at her, turning his jean pockets out like little white flags.
‘Just tell me what’s going on. What’s happening?’ Mary Anne said, reassuringly.
‘I just want to speak to her. She won’t come out, she won’t see me, she won’t answer her phone, man! Have you got any idea what that’s like?! Somebody who’s your whole fucking world and then they just freeze you out! Aw, you don’t understand …’ Thomas slurred.
He was still very emotional, but now he was looking at Mary Anne like he might cry rather than try to kill her.
‘I get it – you feel upset and that made you pretty desperate, so you came down here to try to talk it out. Love makes people act a little crazy sometimes. But Thomas, when I pulled up you were threatening to kill her and burn the place down!’
‘Yeah, but that’s only ‘cause she wouldn’t come out!’ said Thomas, defensively like a child, as if this was an entirely reasonable response.
-Imagine that your dad is in his mid-seventies. He has always been extremely independent, physically fit and prides himself on being a capable, practical man. Recently, however, doctors suspect the onset of macular degeneration and his eyesight is starting to be affected. You are worried about his driving and that he might have an accident and be hurt or hurt someone else. Yet, you also know how much of a blow it would be to his independence if he could no longer drive. You can barely bring yourself to think about what the conversation will look like where you have to suggest to him that he stops driving. However, you also know in your heart that you cannot avoid it forever.
Imagine for a moment how you think the conversation will go. How will he react? Does the idea of initiating the conversation fill you with dread? If it does, you might find it very hard to just come out and say what you want to say. You might end up being hesitant or a bit opaque. You might try to drop hints about seeing a news article on testing eyesight in elderly drivers. Or you might ask him, ‘How’s driving going for you at the moment, Dad?’
Hmmm, what is his likely reaction to these comments? Confusion, suspicion, annoyance? Will he spot what you are trying to say and get angry? But don’t you need him to understand what you are trying to say anyway? How else will you get around to discussing it? But if you try to come at it in a way that is sly or indirect, when he does finally figure out the point of your question, odds are he will be doubly annoyed. Firstly he will be annoyed at the suggestion, and secondly that you were so vague and unclear about it. And isn’t his annoyance exactly what you are trying to avoid?
To improve those odds, let’s try to construct the conversation using the HEAR principles. Firstly, we must be honest and direct – no hedging or trying to hint that there is an issue. We need to be clear and upfront about what our concern is. Take a deep breath and get to the point.
We also need to show some empathy. Acknowledge that this is going to be a difficult conversation. You know him well enough to reasonably predict his reaction, so show some understanding of that. Acknowledge that he might feel defensive and angry at you for even bringing it up. When and if he is, be prepared for it – not offended by it.
This might look something like this:
You:Dad, I need to speak to you about something and I don’t think it’s going to be an easy conversation (empathy). I need to talk to you about your eyesight and how it might be affecting your driving (honesty).
Dad:(Without even looking up.) My eyesight’s fine and so is my driving. There’s no issue.
You:OK, but my concern is the macular degeneration. The doctor has said that it is progressing and starting to affect your central line of sight (honesty). I know how important driving is to you (empathy) and I think both of us would do anything to just make this go away (empathy), but I worry as it gets worse you could be at risk of an accident and you might get hurt or hurt somebody else (honesty).
Dad:(Looking up angrily, clearly irritated.) So you’re going to try to take my licence away from me? After driving for more years than you’ve been breathing without ever having an accident my own child is going to try to get me banned?!
Hmmm … he is angry and defensive, but you probably predicted that. Now this is the important bit: what is your instinctive response to his anger and defensiveness? Is it to say, ‘Dad, that’s not fair I’m only trying to help’ or ‘Dad, I’m not trying to get you banned – don’t be dramatic! Why can’t you just listen to what I’m saying?’
Now who’s being angry and defensive? Don’t let his reaction pull you into his style of communication. You knew it was coming, didn’t you? So, hold your interpersonal ground and stick to the HEAR principles: respect his autonomy to the maximum extent possible. This means trying to support him to make the choice to stop driving – don’t make it for him (unless there is simply no alternative due to the risk). Lastly, listen very carefully to what he says to you about the situation and reflect it back to show you are listening and that you understand. Be more tactical with how you respond, rather than just reacting back to him.
You: Dad, I can see you’re angry at me for bringing it up and it sounds like you feel as if I’m attacking you (reflection).
Dad: I know you’re not attacking me, but you are worrying over nothing.
You:I really hope so Dad. You’re right, you’ve never had an accident in all these years – you’re a superb driver (reflection), but there’s also no way round the fact that your eyesight is going to keep getting worse (honesty). At the end of the day, you’re the only one who can know if it is affecting you yet. I really want it to be your decision when you stop, not anyone else’s (autonomy).
Dad:I know. (Sigh.)
You:I just want us to be able to talk about it when it starts to become a problem (honesty). None of this is your fault (empathy), but the idea of you having an accident scares the life out of me (honesty).
Answer to ‘You seem a bit tense love, maybe you need to get laid.’
- STICKS AND STONES
Emily: I was once leading an assessment centre session with 20 or so men who had convictions for domestic abuse offences. As I was handing out paperwork and issuing instructions, Harvey, one of the younger participants, said, ‘You seem a bit tense love, maybe you need to get laid.’ He was sneering at me like a hyena as he said it, leaning back on the legs of his chair, with his arms behind his head, trying to look cool in front of the other men.
I could feel my emotional brain cringing in embarrassment and discomfort, as well as my face betraying me by going scarlet. Despite all this emotion churning around in my guts, my rational brain knew his comment was nothing to do with me or even to do with sex. It was to do with power. He felt powerless, awkward and judged, so he wanted to tip that power imbalance and pass some of that awkwardness back to me.
I must have paused for a solid five seconds, thinking about what to say next, gradually turning redder and redder. The room was full of tittering and laughter from the other men.
Finally, I said, ‘Harvey, why would you say something like that to me?’
‘Because I can help you out with that if you want …’ he drawled.
I paused again, amidst more schoolgirl tittering from the other men. I didn’t want to start an argument with him so instead I just reflected back to him what he had said: ‘OK, so let me get this right, Harvey. You’re saying I seem a bit tense and so you are offering, in the middle of your domestic abuse assessment session, to have sex with me to help sort me out. Have I got that right?’
One of the other men guffawed, loudly.
Harvey scowled back at me, ‘I don’t really want to have sex with you, love. Don’t flatter yourself.’
I replied, ‘Well, that’s good, because I don’t want to have sex with you either.’
Cue more tittering from the audience. ‘Now that we’ve established that you and I don’t want to have sex with each other, can we get on with what we’re here for?’ I said, holding out a handout for him. He took the paper from my hand begrudgingly and we got on filling it in.
It was an awkward situation and I still look back on it and cringe. But by reflecting back to Harvey objectively what he was doing (‘So what you’re saying is …’) it had neutralised the power struggle he was trying to create.
Reflection, while seemingly simple, is not often our instinctive reaction. It certainly wasn’t in this case. My emotional brain wanted to: a) ignore it and pretend it wasn’t happening, b) challenge it head-on by saying, ‘You’re being inappropriate – get out’ or c) hope the fire alarm would go off and rescue me. But none of those options would have solved my problem.
If I had done a) nothing, I would have looked weak. If I had chosen b) and tackled him head-on, it would have possibly escalated things, especially if he refused to leave.
It also might have made me look a bit dramatic and shrill to the other men who were avidly watching this awkward scene play out. It would then become a tactic to use against me – a challenge to see who could get me to turn the deepest shade of red each week. Instead, by simply reflecting back what he was doing, I was able to neutralise it and move on.