In a recent blog post, we talked at some length about conflict, and more specifically, we focused on the tendency of some people to avoid conflict at all costs. If you didn’t catch it last week, check it out! I mentioned that later we would focus on another group – those individuals with a “tendency to approach conflict too readily,” I believe I phrased it – and this is the group we’ll spend time touching base with today.
This post could easily trail in a number of directions, and keeping in mind my tendency to engage passionately with extraneous detail, today we’ll hone in on a few key points essential to understanding and redirecting emotional reactivity. First, we’ll talk about the reactive stance, and later, we’ll talk about some concrete ways to redirect the impulse to engage in unproductive patterns of conflict. At its core, conflict proneness is rooted in something called emotional reactivity. This means that conflict comes from a tendency to react emotionally (rather than respond rationally) to life experiences. It may be important to note that we speak of “tendencies” in most of the posts you’ll read here because humans aren’t unilaterally one thing or another. Our behavior isn’t always this way or always that way. We show tendencies to act in patterned ways because patterns are easy, even when the nature of our patterns makes our lives markedly more difficult. A person with a tendency to conflict proneness, then… What does this look like? For the sake of clarity, indulge me for a moment. I’d like for you to bring to mind someone you know or can imagine – maybe someone from a TV show or a movie – a person whose life is seemingly in a constant state of disarray or chaos. Maybe they’re involved in an unending saga of relationship drama with romantic partners. Maybe they chew out the wait staff for forgetting to put their dressing on the side. Maybe they’re impossible to please, constantly on edge, or even a little intimidating. They might frame their intensity as being “direct” or “giving it to you straight,” but often this “directness” comes off as harsh, disproportionate to the situation, or attacking. This is the face of emotional reactivity as it appears in conflict. How, then, do we go about redirecting this reactivity? Isn’t that more of a personality trait? Well… yes and no. If you think of personality as a collection of patterns of behavior, then sure, emotional reactivity could reasonably be considered a personality trait. On the other hand, if you visualize personality as this concrete, unchanging force, then no, that doesn’t really capture the heart of emotional reactivity. Regulating emotions is a skill, and like all skills, some of us learn it in our families of origin, and others don’t. Not being taught early doesn’t render us unteachable, and while it may feel more difficult to change our patterns as adults, humans are positively remarkable in their capacity for change and growth. It's never too late to learn to be a well-adjusted human. (An aside, schools are beginning to teach emotional regulation, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about the prospect of being out of a job in a few decades). Now let’s talk specifics, because if you’re anything like me, you don’t appreciate being offered vague, psychobabbly ways of dealing with your problems. When it comes to working on emotional reactivity, and perhaps especially as it relates to anger and conflict, I use a few basic methods in teaching clients to regulate their emotional responses. First, and perhaps most importantly, you’ve got to begin to practice awareness. There are a number of terms for this out there now, and the first that comes to mind is “mindfulness.” A quick Google search will give you scores of information on the topic, but if you’re a cliff notes sort of person, if boils down to this: When we are actively engaging with the present moment, our minds aren’t cluttered with past experiences, old mental scripts about a person or situation, or forecasts for future behavior. We are present. We notice what’s happening around us, and we notice our internal experience of that. We watch our thoughts and emotions as an observer. We don’t have to react. We can just notice, and when we decide to take an action, we’re far more likely to come across as rational humans beings. It’s a beautiful thing. Another tool I like to use relates to this awareness, but is a little more specific – my clients and I practice attending to body language. If you struggle with reacting impulsively, it’s worth examining how many cues from others you may have subconsciously ignored as the situation escalated. Is the person you’re with positioned in a way that feels open or closed? If you’re standing, which direction do their feet point? How does their voice sound? Do they come across as short in speaking with you? What about their jawline – tense or relaxed? What about their eyes? Squinted? Downcast? Wide? Noticing the other person’s body language does two important things. First, it roots you in the present moment. How can you be simultaneously attending to body language and plotting your next hasty, conflict-escalating retort? Second, it gives you the opportunity to act with empathy. If you see that a person appears angry, hurt, or anxious, you have the ability to comment on that and ask with sincerity what that person may need. If you’re able to do that, you may have just avoided an argument altogether because the person you’re with feels heard. Finally, I cannot overstate the importance in this emotional regulation process of learning to identify what we’re really feeling in any given moment (yet again, we find ourselves back at that awareness piece!) When we feel angry, we nearly always feel something else deeper down, and our minds are using anger to cover that up because it’s historically kept us “safe.” Maybe we’re afraid of being alone, of not having enough of something, of being taken advantage of. Maybe we’re jealous, or lonely, or insecure. The common thread here, which you’re probably already noticing, is that each one of these things feels a whole lot more vulnerable than anger. We all experience each of these emotions, to some degree, at one point or another. For some of us, it’s easy to react in anger when what we’re actually feeling is afraid, or insecure, or lonely. When we notice what’s really happening inside, we move from blindly reacting to behaving intentionally. We are giving ourselves a choice. It’s liberating. If you don't take anything else away from this, please hear me when I say… You’re not a prisoner to your past behavior or your old patterns. If what you’re doing isn’t working, learn to do something different. It's not too late. You’ve already got everything you need inside of you. Let me say it again. You’ve already got everything you need inside of you. <3 Morgan
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When I was a kid, I struggled to make and keep friends.
Despite what the melancholic lead-in may have suggested, I swear this post isn’t going to be a downer. It wasn’t that I was a mean-spirited little punk – at least, no one has ever told me that I was – but when it came to forming those deep childhood friendships people always talk about, I never really seemed to be able to do that. I can remember sitting with my teachers at recess, chatting their ears off about the latest book I’d read or something I'd seen on National Geographic. It was always my teachers whom I felt understood me best, not my peers. Writing this now, there’s as good a chance as not that I was just a weird kid who grew into a weird adult, so it may be in your best interest to take the rest of this with a grain of salt. On the other hand, I might be onto something. I'll leave that to you to decide. When I reflect on my experience of childhood friendships, a recurring theme is how difficult it was to deal with conflict, which, as it turns out, is a pretty important piece of maintaining relationships with just about anyone. In my family and in a lot of other families, too, conflict was nearly always a thing to be avoided. In these sorts of families, when you have a problem with someone you’re close with, you put that problem in a box, take that box to the backyard, dig a large hole, put the box in the hole, pour a bag of concrete on top of the box, and you might even add a fresh layer of dirt and a couple of flowers to make the hole look pretty. You certainly don’t talk about the problem, and if you do, it’s because there isn’t any space in your yard to dig another hole. Fast forward a couple of decades, and I’m a therapist with a private practice. On any given day, I work with clients in the midst of some pretty intense conflict – some are in the middle of a separation or divorce, others are working through issues with their families of origin, and still others are struggling to communicate and maintain healthy boundaries with friends or coworkers. For some of these clients, the problem centers around – or, at the very least, is reinforced by – their tendency to approach conflict too readily. These are the people others might describe as “hotheaded.” They perceive some injustice committed against themselves or another and react quickly and intensely. For the time being, let’s set aside this group – if this describes you, don’t worry, we’ll talk about this approach to conflict more in another post. Today, we’ll focus on another group I work with a lot – that is, the conflict avoiders. On the surface, conflict avoiders can look like the “good guy” in a given relationship. They’re the ones people call “easygoing.” They’re the peacemakers, and, taken to the extreme, they’re the doormats. The prospect of confronting conflict head-on to this group seems daunting or unnecessary. They’re quick to make excuses for others’ behavior, rationalizing that the person’s behavior is due entirely to some matter of circumstance, or assume that they themselves must in some way be at fault for what’s happening. They don’t want to hurt feelings or step on toes. This mindset might temporarily keep the peace, but it’s also painful and paralyzing. The surprising part is, conflict avoiders lose relationships just as often as their hotheaded counterparts. Why? Because they never actually confront what’s happening, but they also don’t let it go. You see, conflict avoiders aren’t actually avoiding conflict – they’re avoiding dealing with the conflict that’s already bubbling under the surface. To use the metaphor from earlier, the problem still exists whether or not you put it in a box and bury it. Eventually, and usually following a series of unaddressed relational issues, conflict avoiders tend to avoid their way right out of a relationship that might otherwise have been fixed. If you’re a conflict avoider, it’s easy to let things blow over. It’s easy to default to what I like to call “not rewarding” the behavior you don’t want to reinforce. If it’s not the most common way of avoiding conflict, it’s certainly up there. Take this example: If I’m really bothered by others complaining and my roommate likes to rant without ceasing about her boss, her mother, or her turbulent love life, I might choose to “not reward” the behavior by responding with one- or two-word answers or by making some excuse to exit the situation – I’m not picking a fight, but I’m also not confronting the problem, nor I am letting it go. So maybe I don’t engage with my roommate, and maybe I don’t feed into the negativity, and in those ways, I’m not “rewarding” the behavior that’s bugging me (the complaining). But I’m also not taking any real steps to solve the problem, and perhaps even more important here is that I’m allowing my resentment to build, making it less likely that a calm, kind conversation around the problem will happen. I’m giving my mind a chance to run scripts about this person (“She’s so negative,” “She drains my energy,” “She’s the worst”), and I’m cementing myself in a powerless, victim role. In simply “not rewarding” the behavior, I’m resting in inaction and robbing myself and my friend of an opportunity for growth. Which brings me to the point of this post: Sometimes not rewarding behavior isn’t enough to change it. Sometimes, the hard conversations have to happen. And sometimes, you’ve got to be the one to initiate them. People aren’t always going to pick up on your subtle cues. People who pick up on your cues aren’t always going to heed them. If you want something to change, you’ve got to be willing to face the problem head-on. What does that mean? Well, a lot of things, but first, it means taking a moment to cool off. Even conflict avoiders can come off as harsh if they don’t take time to get present. Get grounded, get away from the situation, and check your pulse. Normal? Good. Once your mind has deescalated a bit, take a moment to define the problem clearly and concisely (i.e., “I sometimes feel overwhelmed when you share about...”). If the relationship matters to you, share the way you are feeling with the other person. You owe it to yourself not to martyr yourself, and you owe it to the other person not to resent them for not changing something they didn’t know bothered you. Bottom line? Be direct, and be kind. You've got this. <3 Morgan |
Dr. Morgan McGowanTherapist, Yogini, Archives
September 2020
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LocationOzark Psychotherapy Group
124 W. Sunbridge Dr., Ste. 5 Fayetteville, AR 72703 If you are in crisis, please call 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.
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