Several years ago a very dear friend asked me this question – How would you score your level of self-abuse if one means it’s non-existent and ten means it’s very high?
On the face of it, you might think this is an impertinent question, a bit close to the bone. It could be, of course, depending on the context in which it is asked, but in this case, I knew her intention was well-meaning, she had my best interests at heart.
At the time I led a team of coaches and consultants, she was my deputy. Our work involved finding future leaders for clients; those with high potential. By potential, we meant someone’s capacity to keep learning and adapting amidst complexity. Especially when times were uncertain, the future looked ambiguous, and those around them needed confidence to find ways through it.
The more immersed we became in this work, the more evident it was that folk’s self-talk had a direct bearing on their potential. Including my own!
My deputy was concerned about my demeanour. I look worried much of the time. Concerned about whether others could deliver what I wanted and what I’d promised our clients. I felt stressed.
Her question was a perceptive one on several levels. She intuitively knew I was holding my own potential back but was blind to this. Given we were both numbers people its framing was familiar – gauging the extent to which my self-talk was self-limiting or, as she framed it, self-abusive. She was concerned about the impact I was having on the team too (though she kept that bit quiet until much later.)
“Eight and a half to nine” was my response to her question. Not immediately though, I took my time over it. Here’s what I paid attention to before arriving at that number.
The questions that the voice in my head would frequently ask me
My friend encouraged me to begin here. This was unusual for me because I hadn’t really thought about ‘that voice’ as separate from the rest of me. Normally, ‘that voice’ was me.
It would ask questions like Why do you always let your anxiety get the better of you? Why aren’t you a better leader? Why don’t you take your own well-being seriously? And, in my personal life, Why can’t you show more love and affection?
I noticed their grammatical construction. The use of the second person. Loaded. Laden with assumption, judgement, and blame, aimed at you (or me, as it were, in this case.) They focus on what is or has been wrong and imply it’s solely up to me to sort things out, without any support from others.
Their roots, I guessed, are in past experiences: spats with my dad. Teachers ridiculed me in front of the class for getting something wrong. The vitriol of school bullies coming my way. A boss we secretly called “The Tyrant” who’d lash out at those he disagreed with, believed people were lazy, and thought fear motivated them. I could go on.
Innocently, (I use this word because as I say, I thought ‘that voice’ was me, not a separate part of myself, ) I fielded lots of questions like these but hadn’t realised it. They depleted me. Drained my confidence. Fed off one another, causing more stress. When at their most intense they’d fuel self-doubt, self-loathing, and yes, self-abuse. All of which I believed I hid well.
But I was wrong.
Let’s talk about projection
As any of us can, rather than own and examine troubling feelings, I’d project them. Projection is a term psychologists use. It happens when we transfer what we’re feeling on the inside to other people. It distorts our perception of what’s really going on in ourselves and those we project onto.
As it did in my case. That’s why my deputy was concerned about me and my demeanour. My worries about her and the team’s ability to deliver what our clients wanted were precisely that – mine. Yet I was assuming others had them too, or if not, they should do.
On reflection, I saw I took my self-talk’s unhelpful, loaded questions seriously. Worse, I answered them and ruminated at length. Worse still, I projected the answers onto my team. I unknowingly let my doubts, about whether I was up to the job, spread.
“But can’t projection be a good thing?” I’d ask myself. “It gets things off your chest and keeps others on their toes.” This reasoning was that of my old tyrannical boss. It’s only a short-term fix. Longer term it brings several problems. Done consistently it erodes trust. It damages relationships, irreparably sometimes. It plays havoc with your reputation, so limits your capacity to get stuff done with and through other people.
Tuning in to a different tune
Reflecting on this aspect of my life wasn’t easy. It was cathartic though. Seeing the separation between me and ‘that voice’ was a bit of a revelation if I’m honest. Gradually, me and it built a different relationship. I’d switch it off or dial it down when it got too noisy for instance. I’d argue with it when it tried to hold me back. I’d look at where it was coming from; sometimes protecting me, other times saying the same old stuff it always had. Sometimes, I realised I could be with my self-talk without being overwhelmed by it.
Crucially, I became more acutely aware of unhelpful questions from a mile off. Not just those used by ‘that voice’ but whenever someone else posed one too. Simply hearing them, and sitting with them, rather than reacting to them, meant a new, more helpful configuration of the same question could appear. For instance.
- Why do you always let your anxiety get the better of you? might morph into If we peel anxiety back a bit, might we find ways that help us manage it more easily?
- Why can’t you be a better leader? could become If we think about the roles a leader could play, might that help us turn difficult situations around?
- Why don’t you take your own well-being seriously? got me thinking What if well-being isn’t the by-product of a job well done but integral to it?
- Why can’t you show more love and affection? turned into What if we shared how we each like to receive love and affection, as well as give it in our relationship?
Note the differences – the latter are framed in the first person plural – we, not you. They don’t skate over the problem, they acknowledge it before exploring future possibilities – what could happen, not past mistakes and what should happen. They emphasise joint problem solving, not just the accused going it alone!
How might your self-talk’s questions score on the same 1-10 scale?
Scores vary widely. Some people are fortunate, theirs are quite low much of the time. Scores vary situation by situation too. Does reframing unhelpful questions make sense to you? When you compare a helpful one with one that’s unhelpful, are you reminded of anyone – a parent, say, teacher, boss, yourself? Which of the two do you tend to use most often? And which would you prefer to answer if receiving the question?
I found surfacing and scrutinising unhelpful questions a little more closely…well…helpful!
There was another benefit too. My reflections led me to this realisation: if the goal is to build trust, in open and transparent relationships, in which you’re confident you can achieve stuff together by enjoying each other’s company, the questions you ask yourself and others, matter.
But there’s a but…
As I’ve said in previous posts, I’m not here to prescribe what you should do: to frame your questions this way or that for example. Nor, when asked a tough question like Why don’t you ever listen to what I’m saying? to respond in a pre-set, positive way.
Whatever I say, out of context, will count for nothing if your state of mind is anything but calm or positive. When you feel angry, anxious, frustrated, or whatever – and we all do from time to time – remembering advice is hard. So, there’s a high chance you’ll forget counsel from folk like me and others, or not see its relevance to the emotionally-hijacked situation you’re in. Why? Because you’ll be too busy living in and trying to survive the feelings that are threatening your equilibrium.
Just imagine it. You’ve been advised to ‘let loaded questions wash over you’, or ‘just smile your way through them’. Similarly, when asking questions, the counsel you’ve been given is ‘frame them positively so that they point to possibilities’. Then, something makes you angry. The red mist descends. You’ll either fight back, freeze, or take flight, depending on what your particular pattern happens to be, based on your conditioning and upbringing.
What you’re unlikely to do at that point is remember, let alone heed, the advice. Much of it will even appear ludicrous or ridiculous. And even if you did use it – trying to be positive, say, when inside you feel anything but – it won’t come over as authentic. As we’ve seen, what we’re feeling on the inside gets projected typically. It leaks, whether we like it or not.
It seems to me asking helpful questions and handling unhelpful ones, isn’t just a matter of grammatical structure and remembering some keywords and phrases. It’s much more connected to how you’re experiencing the mood you’re in. That’s what governs your vocabulary and the way you and your self-talk frame questions and offer up answers to others’.
…and there’s an and
And so, that’s where our inquiry into Helpful Questions Change Lives goes next – as we look at presence or being right here, right now. In the meantime, let me leave you with this question. Do I still ask myself some unhelpful, self-limiting, self-abusive questions?
Of course, whenever I’m in a low mood they keep coming. But, what I’m thankful for is if I see this unfolding, as it happens in real-time, there’s every chance the anxiety, doubt, anger, frustration, or whatever’s fuelling them, will last for a matter of minutes rather than, what for me used to be months on end.
I hope you’ll join me in the next post.
Kindest,
Roger
