Play ball

I constantly remind myself to “say the thing”. To be open. To share. To meet others with absolute honesty. This approach has unlocked a world of simplicity & internal alignment for me.

But, along the way, I’ve been reminded of another seemingly obvious, yet often under-appreciated, observation:

How we communicate matters.

The way that I “say the thing” is just as important as "the thing" itself.

Last summer, I was having a deep conversation with my Mom. We were “unloading our backpacks full of sh*t”, as we recapped our history and shared how the other’s past actions had hurt us. I shared instances when her words fed my insecurities. She shared times when my actions left her feeling neglected and unimportant. Each of us were unaware of the impact of our respective actions, hence the value of doing this sharing.

It was a conversation that would’ve previously put both of us on the defensive. And then, once we were, the conversations would be cut short. The bridge to understanding would be left uncrossed. (I’m shouldering most of the blame here, due to my Little Trent sensitivity when talking to mi madre.)

But in this instance, we were successful. "Successful" in the sense that we were receptive of each other. We both worked to hear the other. We both worked to understand. (It doesn't mean we saw eye-to-eye on the content of the discussion, but we did gain a better understanding of where the other was coming from.)

What changed? What was different this time around?

Well, any conversation is like playing catch:

I say something

You say something

I say something

You say something

Back-and-forth we go...

The topic of conversations is the ball we’re throwing.

If we’re talking about the weather, then it’s like tossing a nice, squishy softball.

If we’re breaking up unexpectedly, then it might be a hardball covered in spikes & shrapnel. (I think that’s what’s meant by, “She dropped a bomb on me.”)

My Mom and I were tossing a baseball. Hard enough to do some real damage if it connects.

So it’s important to be mindful of the type of ball we’re throwing. And this ball can change quite quickly. Maybe I toss the “How was your day?” softball in one moment, but then my partner picks up the “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something” hardball when I’m not looking. Ideally, my teammate would give me the ole "Heads up!" but it’s really on me to be aware.

Each of us will have varying skill levels too. Am I playing with an ace or a rookie? If I’m the one throwing, then it's on me to suss out the skill level of my partner. After all, the goal of playing catch is for me to throw and my partner to catch… to actually catch it.

It's a fine balance of not hurling a 90 MPH fastball at a rookie, nor lobbing a slow-pitch softball at a Major Leaguer. The former will lead to a black eye and the latter will likely guarantee a "feeling pretty patronized here" departure.

(To be clear, I’m often the over-direct and over-sensitive one. A formidable pair. So, needless to say, I’m not the easiest partner to play catch with.)

A big driver of the change for my Mom and me was having these conversations in the presence of a counselor. After trying and failing (by my definition & fault) multiple times, we opted in to a few counseling sessions together.

The counselor helped us uncover our own skill gaps and missed opportunities for connection. She helped monitor how fast we were throwing and whether the other person was ready to catch. She served as an umpire, if you will.

In the beginning, we were hucking spiky hardballs at full speed, whether the other person was ready or not.

A few sessions with a counselor helped us learn how to better see each other. We also found immense value in aligning on why we were communicating. We even adopted a shared language for stating our intentions.

“Unloading our backpacks full of sh*t” is a phrase gifted to us from this counselor.

In our most recent conversation, any time it heated up, we were able to cool it down with reminders like:

“I only ask because I want to understand where you’re coming from”

“My intention in sharing is to create a loving, harmonious relationship going forward”

“We’re on the same team”

Naming what we’re doing and why we’re doing it serves to slow down the fastballs.

The final element to consider is where we’re playing catch. The setting matters.

My Mom and I were laying on the beach. It was a relaxed environment. We were laying side-by-side, rather than facing each other. We could look at each other without feeling like we were being confrontational. There were no spectators within earshot. We could be open in our own little, private world. It enabled us to make the conversation deep, without making it seem intense.

So it’s useful to be conscious of the environment.

Are we in a familiar place? Are we playing catch at Yankee Stadium or in our own backyard?

What’s the vibe of the location? Are we at a noisy restaurant or on a walk in the park?

Who’s around? Are there spectators? And do we care about the opinions of said spectators? (Bringing up a deep conversation with your spouse in front of their parents might not yield the highest throw : catch ratio.)

What’s the mood of the participants? Am I feeling tired, hungry, or distracted? How’s my partner feeling?

Are we kicking off catch while feeling angry or aligned? Sensitive or serene?

Has my partner agreed to play in the first place? Have I?

It’s important to consider whether now’s the right time. If it’s not, then we’re better off picking it up tomorrow. After all, it’s much harder to play catch when it’s dark out & dinner’s ready.

These conversations don’t come easy. I’m still working on my throwing skills as I tell myself to “say the thing.” I’m also working on my catching technique as others toss the ball my way.

But, in the meantime, I’ll repeat to myself some wise words from A Cinderella Story:

“Don’t let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”