In explaining what I mean by ‘embodied, courageous communication’, I want to do my best to avoid throwing a load of jargon around. So, let me instead start by telling you a little about the experiences that have led me to be so passionate about supporting others (and, of course, myself) to express and communicate with courage and authenticity and to connect with the wisdom of our bodies.
As a person with ADHD, I’ve tended towards an abundance of energy – or rather, in the past, I was full of energy right up to the point where I’d burn out. I was aware of needing to move my body a lot, but not tuned into what else it may have been trying to tell me. That’s largely what led to me running myself into the ground at times when I was younger. My experience of communication was a little complicated too – I always had quick thoughts with many tangents, a tendency to use more words than I needed to and a love of performing. Some difficult circumstances in my early life meant that I struggled to communicate my emotions directly. But I found solace, emotional expression and a way of calming and connecting with my super energetic body through singing. In many ways, it was my biggest resource and most effective form of communication before I even realised it. Alongside a more general burnout, not knowing when to stop also led to an injury to my voice that took a long time to heal. That was the catalyst for a huge journey of learning how to understand myself, express myself authentically, listen to and care for my body, and connect more meaningfully with others. This ongoing process is what I mean by ‘embodied, courageous communication’.
I wasn’t really aware of all the defences I’d built up against anything that felt unsafe or vaguely threatening until I hit crisis point and had to address them head on. Learning about concepts like ‘body armour’ (holding tension in the body as a form of protection, often long after the threat has passed) and slowly trying out ways to regulate my nervous system while I built up a relationship of trust with a practitioner was mind blowing. By developing awareness of the physical sensations I experienced when I felt uncomfortably vulnerable, I could begin to join the dots between sensation, emotion and action, then make a decision about whether to do something to shift my state of being in the moment. For example, I learned that when I feel vulnerable, exposed or in danger of conflict, the muscles at the base of my skull tend to shudder or vibrate. Unlike some physical sensations or body signals, this one doesn’t feel particularly subtle. It’s showed up during difficult conversations and job interviews. It seemed to me to be my body’s way of offering up the ‘freeze’ option from a menu of ‘fight, flight, freeze, flop or fawn’. Essentially saying ‘we’re exposed, let’s retreat and hide!’ – a bit like when a toddler hides their face and believes that, because they can’t see you, you can’t see them either. But it’s rare that this is a helpful strategy in the context of a difficult conversation with a colleague or loved one, or during a job interview or big presentation. So the vibrating sensation is something of a warning that lets me know it’s time to take action that will re-regulate my autonomic nervous system – to do something that will bring a more calm, rational, present version of me back into the driving seat. This might involve pausing to take a couple of diaphragmatic breaths, grounding my feet and consciously releasing the tension from my neck.
This is, I hope, a useful example of something that offers a clear link between body sensations and communication. Of course, all of our communication involves our body in one way or another. But in the context of a presentation or a difficult conversation, it feels especially important to stay in contact with the parts of ourselves that can reason, connect with others and help us get our points across clearly. When the brain responds to a perceived threat and floods the body with the hormones and neurotransmitters that could save an endangered life, we tend to lose touch with our most sophisticated cognitive and social functions. The extent of these reactions varies hugely according to previous experiences of trauma, shame, the messages we received as we grew up, our neurotype, personality or other variables, such as whether we’ve had enough sleep and food or are going through a stressful time. Regardless, getting the best from our communication and performance involves a degree of courage, willingness to genuinely connect with others and ability to regulate our autonomic nervous system and emotions. That’s not to say that we should aspire to be in a state of permanent, zen-like calm, or to downplay our emotions and responses in a mandatory display of stoicism – quite the opposite! Suppressing and repressing our feelings will usually only take us so far before they catch up with us and either find an alternative route out into the world or stay buried and do damage to our health. But slowing down enough to really tune into how we’re feeling (something that didn’t come naturally to me and requires a lot of practice) equips us with choices about how we might be able to regulate and respond. Sometimes, we may be overwhelmed in spite of our best efforts and need time out to soothe our mind and body back into a state of calm. Developing awareness lets us know when that’s necessary and potentially helps us to prevent unnecessary conflict.
All of this offers up the possibility of facing into sensitive and difficult conversations. Though part of me would quite like to float through the world, avoiding conflict and anything that may bring with it the possibility of rejection, I’m a firm believer in the need to develop spaces and skills that support the sort of conversations that spark social change and deeper connections. I often work in the realm of Big Topics and discussions that risk exposing fears, complex power dynamics and boundaries, biases and potential for loss of relationship. I find that it’s common for people to fall into understandable patterns of avoiding the conversation if they can, becoming defensive or feeling shame. And I’ve also found that paying close attention to the creation of a reflective, embodied, compassionate space with encouragement to listen openly and challenge appropriately can really help to shift these responses. It’s not easy to do and it requires some effort from all involved in a group setting, a coaching relationship or any other type of relationship. In fact, it can be a far cry from the ‘holding hands and singing Kumbaya’ image that may be associated with words like compassion and safe space! But I know from both personal and professional experience that connecting with our bodies, minds, emotions and each other – in other words, embodied, courageous communication – can be truly transformative.
A bit about what I offer:
I offer a range of coaching and consultancy services, delivered online and in person. I am a qualified coach and Performance Psychology practitioner, and use a Whole Person, embodied, relational approach in all of my work.
I have a particular focus on coaching work with those experiencing performance anxiety or having difficult experiences of being seen and heard. Examples of who I support include:
*Professionals who are finding it difficult to speak up at work
*People experiencing performance anxiety around presentations, performances or auditions
*Performers who are struggling to find their authentic sound
*People with minoritised identities who want to develop confidence in showing up authentically at work and in life.
In consultancy and facilitation work, I apply principles of psychological safety, embodiment and powerful questions in order to facilitate potentially difficult conversations and change processes that often focus on ‘big’ themes, such as belonging, identity, wellbeing and responses to organisational change.