Nonviolent Communication - A Language of Life, Second Edition @Team LiB by by Marshall B. Rosenberg Read Free Book Online Page B

would have liked with their fathers.
    I regularly hear statements like, “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea—I’m married to a wonderful man—but I never know what he is feeling.” One such dissatisfied woman brought her spouse to a workshop, during which she told him, “I feel like I’m married to a wall.” The husband then did an excellent imitation of a wall: he sat mute and immobile. Exasperated, she turned to me and exclaimed, “See! This is what happens all the time. He sits and says nothing. It’s just like living with a wall.”
    “It sounds to me like you are feeling lonely and wanting more emotional contact with your husband,” I responded. When she agreed, I tried to show how statements such as “I feel like I’m living with a wall” are unlikely to bring her feelings and desires to her husband’s attention. In fact, they are more likely to be heard as criticism than an invitation to connect with our feelings. Furthermore, such statements often lead to self-fulfilling prophecies. A husband, for example, hears himself criticized for behaving like a wall; he is hurt and discouraged and doesn’t respond, thereby confirming his wife’s image of him as a wall.
    The benefits of strengthening our feelings vocabulary are evident not only in intimate relationships, but also in the professional world. I was once hired to consult with the members of a technological department of a large Swiss corporation troubled by the discovery that workers in other departments were avoiding them. When asked why, employees from other departments responded, “We hate going there to consult with those people. It’s like talking to a bunch of machines!” The problem abated when I spent time with the members of the technological department, encouraging them to express more of their humanness in their communications with co-workers.
    In another instance, I was working with the administrators of a hospital who were anxious about a forthcoming meeting with the hospital’s physicians. They wanted support for a project that the physicians had only recently turned down by a vote of 17 to 1. The administrators were eager to have me demonstrate how they might use NVC when approaching the physicians.
    Assuming the voice of an administrator in a role-playing session, I opened with, “I’m feeling frightened to be bringing up this issue.” I chose to start this way because I sensed how frightened the administrators were as they prepared to confront the physicians on this topic again. Before I could continue, one of the administrators stopped me to protest, “You’re being unrealistic! We could never tell the physicians that we were frightened.”
    When I asked why an admission of fear seemed so impossible, he replied without hesitation, “If we admitted we’re frightened, then they would just pick us to pieces!” His answer didn’t surprise me; I have often heard people say how they cannot imagine ever expressing feelings at their workplace. I was pleased to learn, however, that one of the administrators did decide to risk expressing his vulnerability at the dreaded meeting. Instead of his customary manner of appearing strictly logical, rational and unemotional, he chose to state his feelings together with reasons for wanting the physicians to change their position. He noticed how differently the physicians responded to him. In the end he was amazed and relieved when, instead of being “picked to pieces” by the physicians, they reversed their previous position, voting 17 to 1 to support the project instead. This dramatic turnaround helped the administrators realize and appreciate the potential impact of expressing one’s vulnerability—even in the workplace.
    Expressing our vulnerability can help resolve conflicts.
    Finally, let me share a personal incident that taught me the effects of hiding our feelings. I was teaching a course in NVC to a group of inner city students. When I walked into the room the first