I could just say that

A little sweetness is nice, but not everything needs to be sugarcoated. (Image by Larry White)

When I’m helping someone navigate a challenging situation, there’s a moment when the person finds the courage and clarity to state their case plainly.

“I just wish I could tell him that it upsets me when he says that. Even though I know it’s my problem, it still bothers me, and maybe if he knew that, he could find a different thing to say.”

“I see lots of people making this particular mistake, and I want to tell them that I could help them resolve it.”

“I feel so sorry that this happened to her, and I wish there were something I could do to fix it.”

Often, such a revelation comes in the midst of a longer soliloquy, and the person saying it doesn’t always realize that they’ve hit upon the truth. In fact, they may have been doing lots of work to avoid making such a bold statement. They’ve composed 400 words of an email without getting to the core of what they want to impart. However, even though it can feel uncomfortable, being direct — while also being kind — can often be the easiest and most effective way to be understood, find common ground, and resolve a conflict.

I used to agonize over emails and sales copy I’d need to write. I’d consider all of the various ways that my words could be interpreted, trying to find smooth and innocuous ways of expressing my ideas. When faced with a difficult question or request, I’d avoid the most obvious answer out of fear that it would offend someone or expose some weakness on my part or that of my company. All this muddled overthinking added many extra hours to my work, and it also compounded my stress. I’d find myself obsessing about an email I was supposed to reply to, or even an email I’d already replied to, wondering if I had said the right thing.

One day, after spending twenty minutes trying to find the words to soothe a disgruntled client, I looked away from my laptop and spoke the truth. It was probably something like, “Ugh, I just want to say ‘I get why you’re mad, but I can’t change my policy for you!’”

And then I realized: I could just say that. I could pretty it up a little bit, but I didn’t have to go into this big thing justifying my position and so on. I could just speak the truth as plainly and clearly as possible.

I started practicing this in all kinds of uncomfortable situations. Instead of spending a lot of time and words covering up the truth, I could highlight the truth instead. If I was feeling awkward about following up with someone because I wasn’t sure if they wanted to keep hearing from me, I could simply ask them what they preferred. If I didn’t know the answer to a question and I needed to do more research, I could say so. If I felt bad about having to say no to someone, I could literally say that to them. If I thought that what someone had to say was especially important even though I wasn’t able to act on it right now, I could express that.

Now, if I receive an email that would once have upset me for days and taken me hours to figure out how to deal with it, I can respond appropriately within twenty minutes, whether that entails making a plan and communicating it, picking up the phone to call the person, or simply drafting a reply. Focusing on the truth has brought me a degree of freedom that was inaccessible before. I just zero in on the part that I’m afraid to say, and say that in a way that is confident, concise, and kind.

I’ve always tried to be honest, but I’ve realized that I don’t have to share my whole backstory in order to be understood. I can be truthful without being cruel, assertive while still being kind. Usually, the ugly version is not strictly true anyway, colored as it might be by my own anxiety or confusion about a difficult issue. Almost always, there is a deeper well of internal wisdom I can draw on to communicate confidently, concisely, and kindly. From this well, the words flow freely enough to share, and hopefully, clearly enough to be heard.