Earlier this week, my mom and I went on a walk. As we rounded the corner, she said something before I was done speaking. In that instant, I noticed myself contract; I was irritated. I decided to express this to her by giving her feedback.
Turning towards her, I said, “I really value being able to finish my thoughts in conversation. Would you be willing to wait until you sense that I’m done?” The words came out curt, as I was speaking from a place of irritation. Tone in these kinds of exchanges matters—a lot—and my mom immediately sensed the anger behind my delivery, which in turn, made her contract.
Not exactly a successful attempt.
But an attempt nonetheless—and in the process of developing our relational skills, attempts are everything.
We continued the walk a little chafed at each other. I can’t remember what happened when we got home; we just carried on as normal.
Later that night, while preparing dinner, my mom asked if we could talk about the walk. I was glad she asked. She expressed to me that she felt hurt after the exchange, like she’d been criticized. I thought about this—I’ve been very critical towards my mom in the past, but I had to decide for myself if that felt true in this instance, while also appreciating the validity of my mom’s experience. “The way you said it felt abrupt”, she told me. Thinking back to that moment, I saw the truth in that; I was cut off and I reacted in a cutting way. So I acknowledged this; I validated my mom’s experience of my abruptness.
Then I posed an important question: “How would you like to receive feedback? How could I have approached this differently? What would feel more enriching to you?” She looked at me. “I don’t know”, she said quickly. “Okay”, I said. “Please think about it and let me know.” Not one minute later, she knew. “Could you wait until later to give me feedback like that? I was blindsided in the moment.”
Now I was smiling. I love when people trust their preferences. Even better when they communicate them willingly. It felt so good to know that I could now give her what she needed. After hearing her request, I was happy to accommodate her preference—and she mine.
The funny thing is, we were both asking each other for patience. This is common in relational dynamics; you’ll often find that the underlying desire behind the conflict is similar for both parties. Kind of beautiful, right?
This was a great example of a full-circle exchange. What I love about it is that it didn’t all happen at once; we had time to be apart and come back together. This cadence is known as rupture and repair, and it’s at the heart of cultivating intimacy. When we consciously choose to re-engage after conflict, we are solidifying not only our commitment to one another, but also the desire to grow with and know each other more deeply.
Giving feedback in relationships is probably one of the most challenging aspects of communication, which is interesting because it’s so crucial to all types of connections: family, friends, business, love.
Before I studied how to do this in a structured way, I was either not giving any feedback (when I desperately needed to) or sharing it with what I consider a lack of care. This “careless” feedback usually takes place when we express ourselves from a place of heightened emotion. Anger, frustration, disappointment, fear, resentment—our words are laced with these feelings, which doesn’t create a safe experience for the person on the other side. They will hear us, but we are hurting them in the process.
I have been the recipient of this type of feedback (which was useful, but unnecessarily painful) and I always wondered how one could deliver that message more compassionately. I’m also quite certain many of my past relationships came to an end because people were hesitant to give me honest feedback. They might have anticipated a negative reaction or were afraid to hurt my feelings.
What I can say is that it hurts much more to be in a relationship where there is a lack of honesty. There’s no ignoring that sort of tension; it’s like a low, dull, constant hum in the background of all your interactions. It will slowly pull you apart.
This is why I’m an advocate for normalizing conscious feedback in relationships. Conscious feedback is structured and care-oriented. We consider:
Consent - “Are you open to receiving feedback?”
Timing - “Is now a good time?”
Safe, specific language - “When I noticed you [specific action], I felt [specific emotion], would you be willing to [specific request]?”
Our emotional state (Check in with yourself: are you feeling regulated?)
Our intention (What do you hope to gain from sharing the feedback? Do you want to move towards or away from this person?)
See how not effortless this is? If you find it difficult to give or receive feedback, I’d like to reassure you that’s because it is a skill; one that many of us aren’t even aware that we can refine. And it takes time to do this!
But when I think of a thriving, healthy relationship, I picture two people who show up consistently for one another in this process. It will undoubtedly be messy and there will be a shitload of mistakes made (I can guarantee you that). But the more you’re willing to practice this honest, conscious, relational type of exchange, the greater the reward. The honey comes from the work you put in together to create something more rich than you could ever accomplish on your own.
What could be sweeter than that?
xo Alex
If you want to develop your relational skills to cultivate deeper intimacy in your connections, you can work with me on a 1:1 basis.
Thanks Alex. You’re right about this. It’s not always easy to get there, but worth the effort in the end. Xox