Sunday, March 30, 2014

everything i know about relationships, i learned from improv

About 5 years ago, I finally identified {one of} the major malfunction{s} in my marriage:
My husband No Buts when I need him to Yes And.
"It reminds me of this rehearsal game we used to play," I told him.

"Yes And" was a game where one person would start a scene and alternate with a partner to build/expand the scene using the premise of "Yes, and..."  When one of the partners would respond with silence, a dead end, or a "no but" response, another player would take his/her place and begin a new scene. Players had to be focused and intentional. The best, most engaging, and creative scenes were those in which players were able to volley back and forth in a sort of "Yes And" bubble.  
 
My husband recently pulled out "Yes And" with our eldest.
With a smirk, I acknowledged the art of the "Yes And" has become a legitimate framework in our household.  

One on-a-whim audition 18 years ago and everything I know about relationships, I learned from Improv 
{only funnier because Yes And was not the first game to make its way into our marriage...}

Over time {in the real, non-Improv world} I have observed that people generally have an operational style that falls into one of two basic categories:

1) No But-ers  
or
2) Yes And-ers

No But-ers tend to receive what you say and put up verbal or emotional barricades for developing an idea or topic further. This can take many forms and while it is sometimes an explicit "no but..." phrase, it is most often an implicit style of response rooted in insecurity, ignorance, and a tendency toward competition.  As a No But-er's partner, you may often feel defensive, unheard, discouraged, shut down, and shut out.  Most No But-ers do not seem to do this intentionally and the intensity of its impact varies but the relational effect is detrimental just the same.

Yes And-ers tend to receive what you say and erect verbal and emotional bridges to encourage you one or two steps further in your idea or topic.  It may be an explicit "yes and..." statement, or it may be a tacit framework for a conversation that is rooted in empathy, authentic interest, and self-awareness.  As a Yes-And-er's partner, you may feel excited, engaged, heard, and yearn for more time with the person.  While some people appear to come by this style effortlessly, I find that most Yes And-ers seem to be intentional at some level about utilizing this approach. 

This is not to say that people cannot {or do not} slip into the other style, depending on the situation or environment, just that we all have a primary mode.  And most of us don't think this structurally in conversation or relationships, we just have a "feeling" about someone we interact with. However, if we are really thoughtful and honest about it, the ability to take what someone says and build bridges is a challenge we all face. 
 
A part of me wants to think people are more complicated than this but I am not sure we are.  At our core, no matter what our beliefs and our insecurities, we want to be in relationships where we feel safe and heard and engaged and encouraged.  

So, I use this framework. 

{A lot}

I find it provides a very concrete, skill-based frame of reference for how people engage each other
and
I love it because we can practice and, with time, get better at working the "Yes And..."



 


Saturday, March 8, 2014

calm the f--- down!

I will not lie: 
I have the urge to say this phrase to any number of people in a given day.
Loved ones, strangers, my kids, clients, other parents, colleagues...

But I don't.
Well, not out loud.
And certainly not at work - 
until last week.

We had a patient who came in - reeking of alcohol and raising a verbal ruckus.
We experienced her as uncooperative and belligerant; she was verbally aggressive and everyone was frustrated with her.
She was asking for help but then refused to let anyone touch her, talk to her, or provide any care.
She lobbed insults and accusations and she was sucking up what felt like valuable time.
The physician made numerous attempts to break through her chaos but her riot was impenetrable.
The physician ordered Haldol.

Our patient was screaming and all I could hear and feel in her cries was trauma.
This patient was not in her right mind and completely out of line {she was drunk, after all
but what she expressed were fears born of trauma.  
And here we were, trying our best to care for her, but our best was only fueling her anxieties and fears.
I was standing at the room's periphery; my heart started to race, my palms started to sweat, and I walked closer to the action.

"Okay, everyone take 2 steps back," I said quietly.
The nurse stood at bedside, poised with the needle, trying to find a break in her flailing.
"Please, take a couple steps back," I repeated - this time with more authority.
I stepped into the bedside space the medical team had vacated near her left hip.

"I know this is overwhelming and I hear that you want to get out of here.  But we cannot do that until we are able to clear you medically."

More yelling...but she stopped flailing.

I fixed my eyes on hers and said very slowly:  Right now, You. Need. To. Calm. The. Fuck. Down.
"We cannot help you if you do not calm down.  I will sit here with you and I will listen and I will help you get the support you need but that can only happen if you calm down.  I am going to start some deep breathing and I want you to join me..."

I inhaled and exhaled.  
Inhaled. 
Exhaled. 
Inhaled. 
Exhaled.


She started breathing with me...and talking. 
Talking about her night, about her life, about her trauma(s).
The nurse capped the syringe, started an IV, took her vitals, and began charting. 
The physician took a deep breath and went to see another patient.
The ruckus was over.

 
I am still not sure it was appropriate or professional to engage her like I did but seriously, 
sometimes, 
you just need a little eye contact and a firm reminder to:
 
Calm the fuck down.