What is actually written and what I hear in it

Imagine receiving this message from a colleague at the end of a workday:

“The change came completely out of nowhere. We should have discussed this beforehand. We cannot keep working like this.”

This or something similar may sound familiar. At first read, it sounds like a personal accusation. The response quickly takes shape in my head. But then I am responding to the accusation I feel, not to what is actually written.

In situations like this, I find it helpful to follow one principle: do not send messages from within an emotional interpretation. Instead, I write down the situation and what has just happened. Writing forces me to finish thoughts that are still incomplete. A few sentences are often enough for me to see the situation from a different perspective.

First, get it out of my head

In my head, a situation like this can seem convincing or sweep me up. Writing it down makes it more concrete. I can read it, question it, notice contradictions, and separate assumptions from observations and facts.

In the example above, the only thing I can observe is that he writes that the change came as a surprise and that there had been no prior discussion. There is nothing about blame or responsibility. That would be one possible interpretation, but at this point I still do not know exactly what information was missing.

I try not to feel that I have to defend myself or turn the other person into the problem. We can both have good reasons for our perspectives, following the principle: “I’m OK, you’re OK.”

Sometimes this line of thought is already helpful while I am writing. A spontaneous justification can become a factual question:

What I first want to write: “The change has been in the ticket since Monday. We did discuss it.”

What it becomes: “I see that the change did not reach you. What information would you have needed, and when, so that you could keep working?”

Of course, my initial assumption that it really was an accusation may be confirmed in the conversation. But then I am acting on a fact.

Writing can therefore create distance and take some of the heat out of everyday work situations.

When that is not enough

Often, writing freely is enough for me. Sometimes, however, I reach a point where I want more structure or support to understand how I can move forward in the situation.

This usually happens in new situations, when several perspectives seem plausible, or when my actions may have consequences for others. It can also happen when strong feelings make it harder to see the situation from several perspectives.

Not knowing how to move forward is nothing unusual to begin with.

These are the moments when I think about methods and choose one based on my experience. By that, I mean a series of questions that give my thoughts structure for a particular challenge and guide me. Different situations call for different approaches.

A method does not make the decision for me or replace my judgment. Through its structure and the act of writing, however, it asks me to explore a situation and avoid overlooking important aspects. It does not have to be an elaborate structure or a long list of questions. Sometimes less is more, or simply enough.

For example, it could be this set of three questions:

• What are the facts?
• What does it bring up for me?
• What are my assumptions?

The distinction between observation and evaluation is important and comes, among other sources, from Nonviolent Communication.

Not every difficult situation needs a comprehensive method. Sometimes three questions and a few minutes are enough to prevent the first reaction from immediately becoming the response.

That is exactly what Reflacto is meant to support. The name combines reflect and act: Reflacto does not make decisions for you, but helps you look more closely and choose the next step deliberately.

Maybe you could try it the next time a message immediately annoys you: first write down what is actually written, and only then what you hear in it.