‘So what is it that you actually do?’ – Stories from a coach and facilitator with a niche job title (Part 1)

I have a confession to make. I sometimes dread the question ‘what do you do?’, because my work might sound like a very specific niche that I need to spend some time explaining. I offer services based on concepts like ‘embodied communication’, though I realise that they may be unfamiliar for a lot of people. So, in the interests of practicing what I preach and communicating authentically, here is an explanation of some of the things I actually do in my professional life.

I’ve spent many years working in the charity sector, part of which has involved considering and discussing how to make services more inclusive, fair and easy to access for service users, staff and volunteers. Sometimes, it also involved discussing our response to global and local events and injustices. These conversations and reflections ranged from life affirming, to awkward and uncomfortable, right through to downright traumatic. Conflicts and competing needs could arise, even in close knit, emotionally intelligent teams. We sometimes found ourselves grappling with shame, guilt or defensiveness as we considered privileges given to us by society at large; and conversely, we may have experienced fear, anger or exhaustion if marginalised elements of our own identities were up for discussion. I vividly remember the emotional intensity of discussing gender as a social construct and gender roles in the workplace with one team I was very invested in working with. And the discomfort of reckoning with my own white privilege in an organisation where I was one of two white team members (and also in a position of authority). I learned a lot from spending so many years in environments where we were all so invested in social issues, but still struggled at times to formulate what felt like a ‘good enough’ response.

Meanwhile, on my days off, I was training in various body and psychology focused modalities. I’d experienced these as a client, working with performance psychology practitioners on recovering from a vocal fold injury and slowly learning to trust my body to help me to communicate clearly again. I learned to tune into physical sensations, to give myself physical support and to regulate my Autonomic Nervous System when I found myself in a nerve-wracking, emotionally charged or even exciting situation. Initially, this was focused on supporting performance and public speaking, but it soon became clear that these techniques were useful in other aspects of life and communication. I started to notice subtle physical warning signs during difficult conversations, and respond to them in order to prevent escalating into unproductive and stressful conflicts.

When I set up my full time coaching and consultancy practice in 2020, I seemed to fall into Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) work as one of my main areas of focus – partly because of my experience in this area, and partly because so many people and organisations were thinking about issues related to this in the wake of the murder of George Floyd and other horrific events that brought structural inequalities sharply into focus while the world went into lockdown. A theme that quickly emerged in my work was a palpable sense of anxiety around confronting complex and difficult topics related to power, privilege and identity. There was often ambivalence or resistance among people in positions of authority and those with societal privilege – sometimes based on a sense that perhaps they were going to be shamed or ‘told off’ for things that may be out of their control. And there could also be a question for people with any role or identity about whether a group environment in the workplace was a psychologically safe enough space in which to openly and honestly discuss any challenges related to inclusivity, accessibility and fairness. I found that it was getting increasingly difficult to get a group of professionals together in a room to discuss these issues or, in fact, anything else that required quite a lot of vulnerability, risk and trust in order to be tackled well. Some initial projects I facilitated that had an EDI focus moved painfully slowly, as leadership teams tried to decide how invested they were in this work. This could be frustrating, but it was also important to accept the pace of change, and it also offered me some further learning.

These experiences led me to become really interested in how I might use the resources available to me from the world of body focused, trauma-informed work to help set up the conditions for difficult conversations in groups and teams. One way to offer this might be through individual coaching with leaders, with an element of focus on deepening awareness of the client’s communication preferences, physical warning signs of overwhelm, triggers, assumptions and preferred resources for getting calm and grounded. Another is to work in a group setting, taking time to co-create a space where people feel enough of a sense of rapport, calm and safety to tackle difficult conversations with courage and honesty. This can be a big ask, particularly in an organisational setting where not everyone is on board with either the subject matter or the addition of my approach to holding space for it. In an ideal world, I would focus on people who want to be there – if something feels forced or coercive, it’s much less likely to be effective. But sometimes, people have felt able to give voice to their resistance, and exploring what’s behind that can be powerful. I really appreciate it when people can show up and say how they’re really feeling, rather than feeling pressure to conform to social expectations and telling me what they think I want to hear. Of course, there are limits to how people’s real feelings might be helpfully communicated, and we’ll have created a group contract that outlines how we will attempt to create a compassionate, courageous environment during sessions. But discussing feelings of reluctance, resentment, anxiety or uncertainty, and doing a bit of myth busting early on in a piece of work can be a good way into authentic communication. And I’ve had people who were deeply sceptical at the outset offer some of the most usefully challenging and insightful contributions to a conversation, and also sometimes tell me that they felt very differently by the end of a session.

Part of what I do in sessions involves offering people ways to tune into their bodies and sit with how they’re really feeling underneath the social veneer that we tend to bring to professional situations and groups where we don’t have established, comfortable relationships. For some, this might feel like a risky approach – particularly if they’ve been working hard to keep emotions out of the way in case they ‘splat all over the walls when the lid comes off’, or if they feel a general sense of disconnect from their body. It’s really important to offer choices, adaptations and ways of letting everyone involved know that they are in control and are encouraged to do what they need to do in order to keep safe. Another simple strategy that can be helpful is an extended process of checking in to share a bit about how everyone is feeling and what’s on their mind as we form our group and ‘land’ in the space. This has two purposes – helping everyone to feel more focused and present, and also reminding us all that everyone here is a fellow human who might have had a stressful time with public transport, a joyful school drop-off, or a frantic rush out of the door with toast in hand before arriving to a session. We might also explore different ways of connecting with each other, and creative approaches to reflecting on subjects that might bring up fear or other difficult emotions.

It's important to draw a distinction between this type of work and therapy – that’s not to say that there can’t be therapeutic elements. But it’s helpful to inject an element of lightness into discussions that can get heavy at times, and to emphasise that, while all of our emotions are welcome in the space, the aim is to notice them and sit with them, then move to a place of working out where we collectively go from here. If things get particularly intense, there may be a need for reflection and support beyond the scope of the session. I learned this early on in my journey as a freelance facilitator – sometimes, I was asked to come into organisations where conflicts were all-encompassing and raw, and found that there was a need to be very clear about the scope of the work and what we could hope to achieve in a space where emotions ran high and traumatic experiences were very recent. It’s also helpful to pay special attention to rapport building, even in groups where everyone (with the exception of me as facilitator) knows each other. Deepening trust is one of the keys to encouraging authentic, courageous communication.

I’ve worked with teams on subjects including making a women’s space more trans-inclusive, exploring why specific groups are critically under-represented in an organisation, tackling white fragility, and discussing staff members’ anger at a ‘sticking plaster approach’ to vicarious trauma and burnout. I really appreciate being part of a group where there is a real willingness to meaningfully take on sensitive topics, rather than keep things compliant, operational and superficial. It’s a privilege to have people share their thoughts, feelings, ideas and challenges in a way that can sometimes be risky. And I’m delighted every time I see, hear or feel a difference in the atmosphere in the room, or the depth of communication after I’ve supported participants to connect with themselves and each other with curiosity and compassion.

If this sounds like it might be useful for you or a team you’re part of, why not book a free exploratory call?

Is there a good time for difficult conversations?

Almost two years of intermittent lockdowns gave us opportunities to reflect on what’s working or not, challenged our assumptions about what’s possible and necessitated a bit of a review of our needs and resources, both on individual and collective levels. For many people and organisations, this has pushed a need for change and exploration of potentially challenging topics further up the agenda. At the same time, events like the murder of George Floyd and resulting groundswell of support for the Black Lives Matter movement triggered a flurry of questions about social justice and what this means for us as individuals and communities.

And yet, all of this exploration has been taking place in a context of collective trauma, burnout, grief and uncertainty. The overwhelming message I’ve heard from people returning to changed workplaces and tentatively stepping further out into the world is that they are tired and perhaps a little more fragile than usual. Sure, there are those who have flourished in recent times and (provided it’s not at the expense of others) I’m happy to hear that. But for most, a sustained period of relentless change, restriction, uncertainty and potentially trauma has had an impact. So, what do we do with a context that includes big questions and burnout? Is this a bad time for difficult conversations? Is there such a thing as a good time for them? Below, I outline what considerations might be part of a healthy and effective approach to these tricky questions.

With any significant discussion or project, I believe that contracting and checking in about how we’re doing are among the key elements for success. The bigger picture of the contracting process involves things like establishing what we’re trying to achieve by setting aside time to explore a specific theme. If everyone has a broadly similar idea of what’s expected, the risk of misunderstandings can be lessened, and there’s more opportunity to ensure genuine, informed ‘buy-in’. Beyond these broad brushstrokes, we get into the nuts and bolts of contracting – the ‘when, where, who’ and logistics. But the question of ‘when’ is more than just a logistical one. Diaries can be hard to synchronise, both in professional and social worlds at the best of times. And when we’re at our edges, scheduling takes on extra significance. Many of us have found that what had previously seemed like a manageable number of meetings, social engagements and projects now seems like a real overstretch. Stamina and expectations may have shifted, and some interactions may be more emotionally costly than they once were. With this in mind, figuring a bit of decompression time in following a difficult conversation might be particularly helpful.

Asking ourselves, ‘is this the right time’ is a matter of honestly assessing a number of factors - the purpose and how urgent it is, whether we have capacity to do the conversation justice, our energy levels and resilience, and whether there’s a chance we could be avoiding the conversation because it’s likely to be uncomfortable. A quick assessment of what the risks and benefits of tackling the issue now or saving it for later could be a good start – what might happen if you do or don’t discuss this? How far away is ‘later’? As someone who’s spent years working with my tendency to start what feels like a hundred projects at a time, put the low priority ones off until ‘later’ and then forget about them entirely, I’m well aware of the risk of using ‘later’ as an avoidance tactic. I’m writing this at the end of a tough year – looking towards a new year is often a great time to pause, reflect and set goals. So, putting things in the ‘for the new year’ pile might make a lot of sense right now – but is there a specific plan and timeframe, or are you really saying ‘too hard, not now’?

Whether addressing a possibly friendship-ending disagreement on a political issue, making difficult organisational decisions or taking steps to improve a tense working relationship, some of the underlying themes are the same. Humans are so hard-wired for belonging, that this arguably shapes all of our interactions with others and heavily influences our sense of self. Ultimately, what makes difficult conversations difficult is often related to fears of being rejected or a strong sense of ‘I’m right and you’re wrong’ – establishing an in-group and an out-group. We might worry about being judged, about causing hurt and the consequences of this, about not being heard or having our dearly held beliefs called into question. These are significant concepts, and there can be a lot of shame attached to them. We’ve evolved to cooperate or risk rejection and death – it sounds dramatic, but the parts of our brain that are first to respond to a potential threat haven’t caught up with the fact that an argument with a colleague about, say, pronouns in an email signature, generally isn’t a life-or-death situation (but an important caveat - since we’re talking about pronouns, it is worth noting that a 2018 study found that the use of correct name and pronouns significantly decreased depression and suicidal ideation in transgender youth). Knowing that we may be carrying these fears or defensive positions into a difficult conversation, and that we’re doing this at a time when we may be feeling less resilient than usual, what can we do about all of this? Here are a few tips for the difficult conversations you’ve decided you need to have now.

·        Gather your resources, work on your resilience

If you’re feeling a little tired and rough around the edges, coming into stressful situations with a well-equipped toolbox is of extra importance. Take some time to think about what helps you to be at your most present and grounded, rested, calm and confident? You might want to make a list of objects, actions, people, places, words, and consider how you might take support from them in the run up to and during a hard conversation.

·        Bring in an outside perspective

When you are enmeshed in a situation, it can be hard to step outside the perspective you’re seeing things from in the moment. In a one-to-one or group environment where everyone has a stake in the outcome, it’s understandable that things might escalate. Bringing in an outside person to hold space can be useful. I won’t say that they’d provide an ‘objective’ view – on some level, they’d be bringing their own life experience, beliefs and knowledge into the room. But what’s crucial is their distance from the outcome of the situation at hand, which can provide a wider lensed view. This is something that can be done through professional intervention (consultancy, therapy, a senior colleague from another team) or in a more informal way, if you can identify a fairly impartial person who might offer a bit of a mediating role in a personal conflict.

·        It’s worth taking the time to really connect

Recognising the common humanity underneath our differences can mitigate the urge to put everyone into ‘them’ and ‘us’ boxes – that in-group/out-group default setting. It might not make a huge impact on fundamentally different views, but I’ve found it incredibly helpful in terms of promoting listening with open minds and hearts. It’s worth considering how you’ll connect as fellow humans before you launch into the Big Topics – for example, this might be done through a check-in (with the question ‘how are you really?’ in mind), some mindfulness work or even ‘just’ space for a coffee and a chat before getting stuck in.

·        Plan what you’ll do if it goes ‘wrong’

A bit of consideration of how to deal with overwhelm can go a long way. Even with good communication and planning, sometimes trauma triggers are hit and limits are reached. It happens! Thinking about offering time-outs and breaks, the ability to renegotiate for another day if you get completely stuck and opportunities to debrief later can support you in getting back on track and prevent a situation escalating further.

So, to return to the question ‘is there a good time for difficult conversations?’, the answer is yes, there can be. And with all the right support and planning, you may find that the conversations aren’t so difficult after all.

Need support with a difficult conversation? Contact me to find out more…