On digging deep and sharing what’s inside
Every now and again I open my mouth and fire comes out.
Even on summer vacation.
Duncan and I were sitting on our deck watching the activity in the harbor, listening to the hum of the lobster boats and savoring the time away from our day to day lives.
“Want to go for a bike ride?” I suggested. I was about to stand up to get ready when he admitted it’s really no fun to bike with me.
“You know,” I responded with a little more venom than I'd like to admit, “I don’t actually want to bike with you, either. In fact, I don’t think I want to do anything with you.”
“Katherine, I’m just trying to tell you the truth.”
“Well that’s my truth, too!” I retorted.
I need to remind myself (and maybe you do too) that sometimes when you open your mouth you’re not going to like what comes out. That sometimes when we share what’s inside, we don’t like what we hear (and neither will the person sitting next to you).
But sometimes those are the moments we need to sit with ourselves and our discomfort…and sift.
I knew I was the one who needed to take ownership of my reaction (you know, poke through the ashes), but I wasn't ready to admit that.
I didn't disagree with him. It wasn't that much fun to bike with him knowing he was granny-gearing just to keep an increasingly much slower pace with me.
After 23+ years of marriage, I knew his comments had nothing to do with his love for me. He was simply admitting what he wants and needs.
And, yet. The whiff of rejection.
I stood up in silence, walked into the galley kitchen and poured myself another cup of coffee.
A few minutes later, Duncan squeezed past me. He sliced a sesame bagel and popped it into the toaster oven.
I was in front of the sink trying to decide if I actually wanted to use what I've learned about how to communicate more deeply and effectively, when I heard a confident, connected part of myself say out loud, “I’m sorry. I didn’t have to react that way. When you said, I don’t want to bike with you, I felt rejected and lashed out. Will you hug the lynx at some point today?” (Lynx, if you hadn't guessed, is code for me.)
I finished unloading the dishwasher. He spread the cream cheese on his bagel and poured some half and half in his coffee. I saw his long arm extend as he stepped his 6’7” frame in front of me, leaned down, and gave me a big hug.
And then we went for a hike:)
****
I’ve spent my career helping others examine, sift and own their stories to find the words to connect more deeply and effectively with others.
In my own life I’ve done the hard work it takes to examine, sift and own my stories — and to find the words to connect more deeply and effectively with people I love — even when I don’t get it right the first time:):)
What I've found (and continue to learn over and over again) is if we are to connect more deeply and effectively with others, we need to move past the not-so-helpful-stories we tell ourselves. And to do that we need to 'look under the hood' and get to really know ourselves, love ourselves, accept ourselves. (It is hard work. Period. But the rewards are huge.)
Most of you know I wrote a story about my journey of learning how to to connect more deeply and effectively with others. The story is now a book called Speaking to What Matters: My story of how I learned to share what’s inside and it will be available late September. Stay tuned for more details. Yay!
So many people have helped me get to this moment to share this powerful little book with an important inspiring message but right now I especially want to acknowledge my husband Duncan. Between marriage, raising kids, each of us losing a parent and now sharing this story (which overlaps importantly and vulnerably with his) I want to thank him for always going the distance with me.
“There are so few people we can count on to go the hard way.” - Adrienne Rich
Even if we don’t bike together anymore--although I'm thinking E-Bike next year):)—he’s gone the hard way with me and for that, and so much more, I’m deeply grateful.