The Lost Art of Listening (20 page)

snow off the car before you start to drive,” Sheila protested feebly, “I was in

a hurry to get to the cleaners.” When Lenny countered, “You’re always in

too much of a hurry,” Sheila capitulated, “I guess you’re right.”

Experience has taught me to listen not only to what people say but

also for what they’re not saying. I soon found out why Sheila hesitated to

protest. One time she said, “Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?”

and Lenny flew into a rage. He started shouting at her. “You
never
listen to

anything I say! You have
no
respect for me. You say you love me, but it’s a

goddamned
lie!”

It was awful. I don’t really remember all of what he said because,

frankly, I was too upset. What’s more, the same thing happened every time

Sheila said anything critical to Lenny. His reaction was so extreme that it

was impossible to really understand what he was saying.

Having read these two accounts, you can probably guess something of

what both Corinne and Lenny felt. But clearly the intensity of their reac-

tions was inappropriate to the situation. Let me also tell you that these are

two instances when it’s a lot easier to read about something than to witness

it firsthand. Corinne’s abject remorse and Lenny’s rage made listening to

them almost impossible. What makes people respond so inappropriately?

Long memories.

From these brief descriptions, some people might say that Corinne

was insecure and Lenny suffered from unresolved aggression. Others might

say that Corinne’s turning her anger inward and Lenny’s lashing out were

typical of their genders. In fact, these inferences are so general and judg-

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THE REAL REASONS PEOPLE DON’T LISTEN

mental as to constitute virtually meaningless clichés. For a more subtle

appreciation of a person’s overreaction you need to know its trigger.

A listener’s emotional reaction seems inappropriate

only as long as you can’t see his or her memory.

As a therapist, when I see someone responding “inappropriately,” I

ask myself what circumstances
would
make the response appropriate. (In

my own relationships I just get upset like you do.) What would make it

reasonable for a woman to feel hopelessly worthless for having made a

minor mistake? (Hint: Most of us manage to survive childhood, but not all

of us outgrow it.)

Corinne was the last of four children in a talented and ambitious fam-

ily. She had three older brothers “who were jealous and competitive” and

“never liked me.” Her father was cerebral and distant; her mother was a

depressed underachiever who drank too much. Corinne was the baby, but

rather than being doted on she was ignored. Early on, she decided that the

only possibility of ever being loved was to be the perfect child, docile and

mediocre—docile so as not to burden her parents, mediocre so as not to

challenge her brothers. They tolerated her as long as she played the good

little sister, but they couldn’t acknowledge any sign of accomplishment

from her. Deprived of acceptance themselves, they belittled their little

sister’s achievements and mocked her mistakes. They called her “lardass,”

“Miss Piggy,” “stupid,” and “retard.” Even the smallest slipup could trigger

their scornful laughter. Years later Corinne was still so hypersensitive to

humiliation that she sank into despair whenever she made the slightest

error. The man who pointed out her mistake did not say “retard,” but that’s

what she heard.

When you’re a little child, it’s hard to fight back.

When you’re an adult made to feel little, it’s hard—

but not impossible.

What made Lenny so critical of others and yet unable to tolerate criti-

cism in return? Not the kind of cruel treatment you might expect. Lenny’s

parents were decent, loving people. But their lack of involvement out-

How Emotionality Makes Us Defensive
115

side the family led them to expect a lot from each other and from their

children. When they didn’t get what they wanted, they criticized and

complained. This alone might not have made Lenny so unable to tolerate

criticism. But his parents, for all their basic goodness, never gave him the

empathy that would have solidified his sense of worth. Without a store of

loving memories, without a sense of being taken seriously and appreci-

ated just for himself, and without expectations of more understanding to

come, Lenny harbored deep and ugly fears of worthlessness. Hard work

and family devotion kept these feelings at bay, until, that is, someone said

anything remotely resembling what Lenny himself feared in his heart of

hearts—that he was no good.

I once had a gray-and-white cat named Tina who was perfectly friendly,

except that once in a while she’d lash out violently with her claws. These

attacks were totally unprovoked. One minute Tina would be purring to

have her head stroked; the next minute you’d have a bloody scratch on

the back of your hand. Eventually we took her to the vet and learned

that she had an injured hip— possibly from a car accident when she was a

kitten—so that what seemed to us like a harmless touch could actually be

quite painful.

Shame and insecurity are the wounds that make people react vio-

lently to criticism. Some people retreat from hurt feelings, others attack.

The most shame- sensitive individuals flare up at the slightest sign of criti-

cism. Such people are hard to live with. But reacting to criticism with

hurt and anger is something we all do. What varies is only the threshold

of response.

The universal vulnerability to criticism is related to the universal

yearning for love and approval. What we really want to hear is that we’re

terrific (sometimes “okay” will do).

Our sensitivity to criticism varies with the situation. We’re hurt most

by criticism of something that feels like an important part of ourselves—

our motives, for example, or the products of our creativity, or, during ado-

lescence (and sometimes slightly beyond), our appearance. We’re espe-

cially sensitive to criticism from someone whose opinion we care about.

The right person saying the wrong thing can puncture your ego like a pin

bursting a balloon.

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THE REAL REASONS PEOPLE DON’T LISTEN

How to Listen to Complaints

Do you often find yourself interrupting someone who’s criticizing you

before the person has a chance to finish? This understandable but coun-

terproductive impulse robs the other person of a sense of having been

heard. You don’t have to agree to hear what someone has to say.

To avoid getting defensive, concentrate on listening to the entire

complaint. Then ask, without sarcasm, “Is there anything else?” Finally,

offer your understanding of what the person was trying to say—
not a

paraphrase
but what you think the other person was trying to get at.

Why Do People Complain to Us?

Behind every complaint is a request. Listen for the request and then ask if

that’s what the person would like.

Respond to the request by accepting it or making a counteroffer—in

the spirit of trying to give the other person what he or she is asking for.

What Makes Us Intolerant?

When you’re trying to figure out why you or anyone else overreacts,

keep in mind one of the great ironies of understanding: We’re likely to

be as accepting of others as we are of ourselves. That’s why those lucky

enough to be raised with self- respect make better listeners. Still, you

needn’t be stuck where you find yourself. If you learn to respect other

people’s feelings, you will learn to treat your own feelings more kindly in

the process.

What we can’t tolerate in others

is what we can’t tolerate in ourselves.

We can’t listen well to other people as long as we project the mistaken

idea that parts of us aren’t good enough to be loved, respected, and treated

fairly. A wider respect for human dignity flows from and enhances respect

for ourselves. Tolerance and appreciation of our own and other people’s

How Emotionality Makes Us Defensive
117

feelings helps us hear and understand the hurt that inevitably lies behind

anger and resentment. When our feelings aren’t heard, our spirits are sup-

pressed and distorted.

What Turns Conversations into Arguments?

Reacting emotionally to what other people say is the number-one reason

conversations turn into arguments.

If you’re not sure what emotional reactivity is, take inventory of your

feelings the next time you rush out of the bathroom to catch the phone on

the last ring—and it turns out to be somebody selling something. That agi-

tation, that anxious upset that makes you want to slam down the phone, is

emotional reactivity. Is it wrong or unjustified? No, of course not. But it’s

that feeling, in relationships that do count, that makes it hard to listen,

hard to think straight, and hard to say what you want to say.

Reactivity is like a child interrupting an adult conversation—it isn’t

bad; it’s inopportune. Our intrusive emotions may need to be hushed, but

they may also need to be listened to later. Why are we reactive? What are

the reactive parts of ourselves, and what are they reacting to? Disruptive

feelings are messages from our inner spirit about something we need to

change or pay attention to in our lives. Our reactivity can lead us to parts

of ourselves that we haven’t yet befriended—angry and resentful parts,

frightened and lonely parts.

If Corinne were to tell a friend how stupid she felt for screwing up the

newsletter, the friend might try to reassure her by telling her not to worry.

Everyone makes mistakes. Yes, but when Corinne made a mistake, she

could hear the savage brothers sneering: “Lardass! Retard!” And she’d feel

again what she’d spent her whole adult life running away from: that she

was ugly and stupid, nobody loved her, and nobody would ever love her.

Lenny’s dishing out but not being able to take criticism might seem

less unreasonable if you realized that deep down he, too, felt worthless and

inconsequential. Inside him were dark and ugly voices he anxiously shut

his ears to lest he get in touch with the part of him that still felt like a little

boy who was never good enough.

What turns conversations into arguments for some people (not infre-

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THE REAL REASONS PEOPLE DON’T LISTEN

quently mothers) isn’t so much something inside of them as the fact that

they can’t tolerate certain things in people close to them.

One of my patients doesn’t want to hear what’s going on in her

daughter’s life. It’s too upsetting. Allison was arrested for prostitution at

age fifteen. Despite her mother’s heroic efforts, Allison continued to get

into trouble, using drugs, hanging around with a motorcycle gang, coming

home drunk night after night. Finally, when Allison was eighteen, her

parents insisted that she get her own apartment. They supported her for a

while, then gradually stopped paying her expenses. Allison now works as a

cocktail waitress, when she works, but her parents are reasonably sure that

she’s using drugs and that she probably still prostitutes herself from time

to time. They know she occasionally gets arrested for drunk and disorderly

behavior, because they’ve had to go to the jail in the middle of the night

to bail her out. Her mother still loves her but finds it necessary to cushion

their relationship by visiting infrequently and avoiding the details of her

daughter’s activities, which she finds too upsetting to listen to.

This mother’s avoidance is based on a correct assessment of her own

vulnerability. It isn’t just worry that she’s avoiding; she can’t listen to her

daughter’s troubles without feeling the need to reform her. The temptation

to tell her daughter to stop taking drugs and hanging around dangerous

characters (as though these were novel ideas) interferes with listening;

yielding to that temptation triggers shouting matches.

The worst thing about reactivity is that it’s contagious. When anxiety

jumps the gap from speaker to listener, it escalates in a series of actions and

reactions, which may eventually lead to an emotional cutoff. The cutoff

may be as simple—and simply frustrating—as walking out of the room or

as sad as someone walking out of another’s life.

The next time you have the misfortune to witness two people arguing

without hearing each other, notice what each of them does to keep the

argument going. (If you’re one of the parties to the argument, just notice

what the other person does; the alternative is too demanding.) Notice how

the argument could end if either one of them would let go. In the runaway

logic of arguing, both parties feel compelled to get in the last word.