HOW TO STOP BEING RIGHT AND START BEING REAL

Have you ever

• been bored listening to someone but acted interested?

• pretended to like someone more than you really did?

• pretended to like someone less than you really did?

• had trouble admitting you didn't know something you're supposed to know?

• had trouble admitting you were wrong?

• had difficulty asking for what you wanted?

• acted happy when you felt sad?

• had difficulty admitting you were attracted to someone until you found out how they felt about you?

• had a problem saying no or marking your boundaries?

• had trouble telling your sexual partner that you're not satisfied?

• reacted defensively when you thought you were being criticized?

• had difficulty expressing your anger, jealousy, or hurt?

• had trouble expressing your love, caring, or vulnerability?

• avoided telling someone something that you feared might be hurtful?

If you answered yes to many of these questions, rest assured that you're not alone: I ask hundreds of people these questions during speeches and seminars, and nearly everyone answers yes to most of them. Yes, we all lie, sugarcoat, pretend, or withhold. Why? The most common reasons people give are

• to avoid hurting people's feelings

• to avoid looking foolish

• to avoid conflict, disagreement, or feeling anger

• to ensure that things turn out right

• to avoid feeling out of control

We lie to avoid whatever we perceive as dangerous — to our ego, to our comfort, to our safety. Most of all we lie because our sense of safety and self-esteem depends on our feeling in control, in control of how other people react to us, of whether we appear smart or foolish, of whether we'll get what we want.

Getting Real at Work

I was giving my first coaching session to an executive from a Fortune 100 company. We were meeting to go over the results of a survey he had given his employees asking for their feedback about his effectiveness as a leader. As soon as we sat down, he disclosed, "I haven't looked at the results of the survey." I had an immediate reaction. I was not pleased! The previous week we had agreed that both of us would study the results of the survey in preparation for this meeting. My body felt flushed and hot. I felt a mixture of anger and disappointment. I was saying to myself, "I wasn't expecting this. I don't want to have this meeting if he's not prepared." Instead I mumbled, "How come? Weren't you interested in what your people had to say about you?" He smiled sheepishly, looked down at the floor, and said something about having too much on his plate. So I feigned sympathy.

Fortunately, at that point in the conversation, I felt the urge to use the restroom, so I excused myself. Standing at the sink in the women's room, I gave myself time to get present to what I was experiencing. I took a few deep breaths and went back to our conference room. I looked my client in the eye and told him, "Leo, I'm feeling angry and disappointed that you didn't read what your people wrote about you." As soon as I said those words, I knew I was going to be okay. I felt a big surge of relief in my body and renewed clarity in my thoughts. I waited for his response. He sat there for several seconds, just looking at me. Then he said something I didn't expect: "Thank you. I needed to hear that." We both heaved a big sigh of relief as I exclaimed, "Well, now that we have that out of the way, shall we get to work?"

My behavior during the first part of the meeting was typical of so many of us. We try to act in control instead of admitting that we're upset or befuddled. Instead of sharing our feelings and thoughts, we try to ensure a predictable outcome (I wanted him to like me, and I wanted the meeting to proceed smoothly). We communicate with the intent to control rather than with the intent to relate. But until we take a risk and share authentically, nothing real can happen. We're like actors reading from a script. When people throw away the script and show up in the moment, suddenly a lot of creative energy is released, and something can get accomplished.

As my meeting with Leo showed me, honest expression of feelings also helps to clear away the fog that clouds our perception of what is — especially when we express something we have been withholding or trying not to think about. Once I expressed my withheld anger, I was able to release those feelings and could then give Leo much more of my attention.

New Human Capacities

In the mid-1990s I conducted a three-year research study of the "new human capacities" that people need to develop to survive and thrive in a world of tumultuous change and information overload. Based on a survey of approximately five hundred people, the research demonstrated that about 80 percent of the average person's communications are geared toward controlling things that are actually beyond the person's control: a huge waste of human energy.

More often than not the truth of a situation doesn't conform to our ideas about how things should be. In the example above, I thought Leo should have read the survey results. Where did that get me? Well, it got me behaving in a way that was disconnected from both the truth of the situation and the truth of my own feelings. The truth is often more confusing, paradoxical, uncomfortable, or messy than we might wish it to be. It cannot be controlled. The people in my study who experienced the greatest number of painful unexpected surprises (such as job loss, divorce, and alienation from their grown children) were those who demonstrated the highest need for control. It seems that the more you try to get reality to fit within your comfort zone, the more unprepared you are to deal with a world full of surprise, complexity, and change. Likewise, if we persist in trying to get our relationships to conform to our expectations instead of letting them be how they actually are, we may miss important opportunities to know ourselves and others more deeply.

When I was in high school, my family's dinner...