Talking about things that hurt

It's not unusual for conversations with me to go to unexpected places.

I have some theories about why that happens, but most of the time I just enjoy going on the journey...and to be honest, I never really know where we're going either. 🤷‍♀️

A few weeks ago I got to sit down and chat with the incredible Jordan Maney (wedding industry disruptor + creator of White People Rehab) because a mutual friend said that we would have a lot to talk about, and I trust Margo's judgment.

I set aside half an hour for the casual chat, and almost 90 minutes later we were still deep in it — how childhood experiences and generational trauma impact our ability to show up; the importance of safe spaces to facilitate healing; the roles that intention, responsibility, cultural inheritance, and defensiveness play; and why healthy boundaries and relationships matter so much if we want to create change.

Growth requires discomfort.

And we have to learn how to sit with it, so we're able to work with it.

In words nabbed from @decolonizingwealth: Grieving requires softening your self-protective defence mechanisms enough to feel. Getting beyond the denial, numbness, righteousness, apathy, and other obstacles we have put in place to avoid the depth of the pain.

They're referring specifically to grief here, but I think the same is true of our other Big Feelings.

( That's what I help people do in my group program, Stayin' Alive.)

This conversation really got me thinking about how we set boundaries when we're engaging with the most intimate or volatile intersections in our relationships — the ones that make us the most defensive because the consequences of accountability are the scariest, or because they bring to light the aspects of our Selves that we fear the most.

Note: I'm talking about boundaries as the intersection between our identity (internal, authentic Self) and the roles we occupy externally (child, partner, parent, friend, sibling, business owner, employee, etc).

When we reach those intersections at points of conflict, it's crucial that we're able to lean into the discomfort from a place of curiosity rather than judgment — recognizing how far we can lean before our defensiveness is triggered, effectively shutting down our capacity to listen and learn.

That's our signal to rest and regulate.

Not to quit, but to take a break so that we can identify what's going on, set down the defensiveness, and engage with inquiry again — whether that's in our own anti-racism practice or in a conversation with someone you love:

What if I say what I need and they say no? What if I'm not able to engage in this relationship without losing my Self? What if I end up losing everything? What if I have been upholding white supremacy? What if my understanding of feminism is oppressive towards BIPOC? What if my good intentions have been causing harm? What if I say something and get it wrong? What if everyone ends up hating me?

Instead of sitting with these questions and honestly examining them, defensiveness will try to create distance from the discomfort as a means to protect us.

It causes us to try and avoid what's going on, or to lash out — not because we're facing an actual attack to our physical body, but because we feel attacked and the body can't tell the difference between a real and perceived threat.

Plus, when our stress peaks, our rational thought tends to go kaput. We jump to worst case scenario and react from that place, putting the other party in the conversation into defence mode...you can see how it's a vicious cycle.

It's easier to say, "what that person is doing is worse," or "what about when you do ________" than it is to sit with our own feelings of guilt and shame.

The account @inclusivetherapists on Instagram did a fantastic job exploring the phenomenon of white distancing in this post — especially the way they discuss dominating/dissociating/denying as a response to discomfort.

When we engage in defensive behaviours, not only do we cause harm (because defensiveness results in an at the cost of the other relational exchange) we subconsciously let ourselves off the hook of doing the internal work that comes with growth and doing better.

Facilitating repair is much harder than reacting.

But when we're able to sit with and navigate those feelings of discomfort, we can start to uncover the stories and beliefs that fuel them and consciously make better choices — we can work towards dynamics that result in a both/and relationship exchange.

Once more, from @inclusivetherapists — "Healing domination, dissociation & denial leads to: power-sharing, authentic connection, and truth-telling...the foundations of liberation."

Healthy boundaries create the safe space we need to process.

And it's in recovery that we develop the resilience to try again.

Ultimately, I want there to be space for repair in relationships. I want space to admit when we've done something hurtful without it feeling like a moral failing — because I believe that it's not the things that you do that define you, it's the step you choose to take next.

And instead of reacting defensively because we feel threatened, I hope that we're able to pause, regulate, and process before reacting...knowing that the next step still might not be "right". This kind of course-correction is a life-long process, and as long as you're taking that next courageous step it's not a question of if you trip, it's when.

Then the question becomes: What are you going to do next?

Are you going to double down on your stance and try to convince the other party that you're in the "right" and one of the "good" ones? Or are you going to set down the knee-jerk reaction and dig deeper — to sift through the complexity that makes us human?

Engaging from a place of vulnerability is where we'll find the connection that we crave, and it's that authentic connection that's going to build bridges that take us somewhere better...our defensiveness will just set fire to those bridges.

So next time you feel your nervous system amping up, preparing for the existential fight of your life...