Dare to Lead: Empathy and Shame PDF

EMPATHY IS NOT CONNECTING TO AN EXPERIENCE. Empathy section Digging into Shame **If you want to see the ego go to DEFCON 1, get any­** **where close to shame. What makes embracing vul­** **nerability feel the most terrifying is how taking off** **the armor and exposing our hearts can open us...

EMPATHY IS NOT CONNECTING TO AN EXPERIENCE. Empathy section Digging into Shame **If you want to see the ego go to DEFCON 1, get any­** **where close to shame. What makes embracing vul­** **nerability feel the most terrifying is how taking off** **the armor and exposing our hearts can open us up to expe­** **riencing shame. Our egos are willing to keep our hearts en­** **cased in armor, no matter the cost, if we can avoid feeling** **"less than" or unworthy of love and belonging. What the** **ego doesn't understand is that stunting our emotional** **growth and shutting down our vulnerability doesn't pro­** **tect us from shame, disconnection, and isolation, it guar­** **antees them. Let's look at how shame works and why it** **can't survive a healthy dose of empathy.** Shame, which is often referred to as "the master emotion" by researchers, is the *never good enough* emotion. It can stalk us over time or wash over us in a second---either way, its power to make us feel we're not worthy of connection, belonging, or even love is unmatched in the realm of emotion. If we lean into vulner­ ability and resist the urge to armor up, and that leads to our feel­ ing blamed, put down, ignored, or pushed away, shame can deal such a painful blow to our sense of self-worth that just the fear of it can send us running from the vulnerability rumble. I've written extensively about shame in all of my books, so I've gathered the important pieces from other books to give you a primer here. Before we dissect shame, let me walk you through a recent example. In July 2017, one month after I delivered the final manuscript for *Braving the Wilderness* to my publisher, I was three weeks into my pre-book-tour boot camp. The week after the *Rising Strong* tour ended, I had sworn to myself that I would never embark on another book tour without getting into physical, mental, and spiri­ tual shape. The new book was set for release on September 12. I love being on the road and spending time with our incredi­ ble, wholehearted community. It's truly one of the great unex­ pected gifts of my life. But if I'm not physically, mentally, and spiritually fit, the planes, hotels, and homesickness can crush me. Late night room service becomes my best friend, my coping skills start to wear thin, and, if I'm not careful, anxiety and loneliness can set in. The worst part of this is that when I'm not in fighting shape, I collapse when I get home. I can't get out of bed for two or three days, and my kids come to my room and visit me like I'm in the hospital. At first, I thought the problems were driven by my introver­ sion. I'm a ten on a ten-point scale of introversion. I require a sig­ nificant amount of alone time to function on all cylinders. But we started testing new travel strategies and I realized it's more than that. I've never been in a good place without working out and pay­ ing attention to my spiritual life. When I'm committed to these practices, it's magic. Well, magic, discipline, and a shit ton of hard work. But it's really, really solid. Three weeks into running, working out, rocking my Keto plan, practicing my centering prayer, shopping for cute outfits to wear on the road, and setting master-class-level boundaries for the tour, things looked pretty good. On the tenth of July, I drove twenty minutes from my house to Wire Road Studios in the Hous­ ton Heights to record the audiobook for *Braving the Wilderness.* I love this studio and do all of my recording work there. I remem­ ber bouncing into the front office that morning and passing my favorite photo of Beyonce hanging on the wall. I was in such a good mood, filled with possibility. I just wanted to give her photo a high-five. *H-town girls bringing it.* We were ten minutes into the recording when the sound engi­ neer's voice came over my headphones. "I can hear your earrings. Can you take those off, please?" I said, "Sure! Sorry about that." I hustled out of the sound booth toward a bench in the hall where my purse was sitting. Walking fast and looking down to put the earring backing onto the hoop that I had just pulled off my ear, I plowed, forehead first, into a six-inch-thick glass wall. I don't remember much after that, just waking up on the floor. And I remember the pain. I knocked myself unconscious for a full minute, and when I came to I was completely confused. I was cry­ ing and people were helping me, but I was out of it. Karen, my audiobook producer, insisted that she should drive me home or to the doctor's office, but I wanted to go back to read­ ing. We were on a super tight schedule. I read for thirty more min­ utes until I finally started crying again. I looked at Karen and said, "I just can't. I don't know what's wrong." She offered to drive me home, but I assured her that I was fine. I drove to the office, but I don't remember a single minute of that drive. When I walked in, people gasped at the Ping-Pong- ball-sized lump protruding from my forehead. Again, I assured everyone I was fine. I jumped on a Zoom call with my team. I was sitting next to Barrett and Suzanne in our office. Murdoch and Chaz were beaming in from New York and Austin. Apparently, a few minutes into the call, I said, "I don't understand what's happening. I don't understand." Murdoch responded, "Brene, are you sure you're okay?" They tell me that my mood shifted and I snapped back, "Leave me alone. I'm just tired." Then I threw up in the trashcan under Suzanne's desk, wiped the throw-up off my chin, folded my arms on her desk, and went to sleep. I woke up at home. My team had called my husband, and he had left his office to meet us at the house. He was asking me ques­ tions, and they tell me I was combative, frustrated, and crying. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't line up my thoughts or my vi­ sion. Steve kept asking me to look at him, but I remember it being so much work that it hurt. I could only look through him or past him. My sister was standing out of sight, scared and fighting back tears. I was diagnosed with a severe concussion. But, as familiar as that sounds, I would quickly learn that I had no idea what that meant. The day after the injury, my team sprang into action. They started canceling upcoming speaking dates and shifting my cal­ endar. I was pissed. I kept saying, "I'm going to be fine in a week, these are huge events with contracts that have been in place for over a year. There's no reason to cancel." Murdoch was clear: "You don't get a vote on this." I wouldn't relent. I couldn't. I was swallowed up by shame and fear. Researchers Tamara Ferguson, Heidi Eyre, and Michael Ash­ baker have found that "unwanted identity" is one of the primary elicitors of shame. They explain that unwanted identities are characteristics that undermine our vision of our ideal selves. Sick, unreliable, and undependable are *huge* unwanted iden­ tities for me. As a fifth generation German American Texan, I grew up believing that illness is weakness. Not in other people---in other people it's human and okay and we should support and help. But in our family being sick is lazy, and if you're tough enough, you can walk off anything. Trust me when I tell you that no one who lives by this loves it, but the shame is so enveloping that it's hard to break free. Unlearning this belief has been one of the hardest and most painful lessons of my life, and a battle I have to constantly refight, given the culture's reinforcement of it. But I will continue to fight and talk about it because I do not want to pass this belief down to my children. It's a terrible way to live. Five days after I hit my head, I couldn't function. I had a black eye down to my cheek and a huge bruised forehead. I couldn't read, watch TV, look at a computer screen, or be in bright light. It hurt to think. And the harder I tried to get back to normal, the worse it got. Everytime I pushed, I regressed. I had wrestled away the shame self-talk about canceling the events with some self­ compassion and empathy from my team, but now I was feeling shame about losing control of what I believed made me *me:* my mind. *What about my plan to get stronger for my book tour? What* *if I don't get better? What if I don't heal? What if I've written my* *last book? What if I can never do research again?* Finally, Trey, a dear friend of our family, sat down with me and shared his nineteen-year-old wisdom. He laid it all out and held nothing back. He told me hard things that I didn't want to hear, but he did it with such tenderness and empathy that I just listened and cried. He was a rugby player in high school and had suffered his first concussion six months earlier, playing as a fresh­ man in college. He said, "I know this is scary and you can't even describe it to other people, but it's real. And the harder you fight it, the worse it's going to get and the longer it's going to take to heal. You can't win this fight by being tough. You can't fight your way back. You need time. This is real, and it's scary when your mind stops working. You're going to have to find a way to let go for the next few weeks." After a month, I started slowly returning to work. Every time I pushed a little too hard, there was a setback. I still couldn't work out, but I could find my way to the pantry to comfort-eat. I gained ten pounds---just enough so that every outfit I bought for the tour no longer fit. Whatever good physical, mental, spiritual shape looked like, this was the opposite. The fear that I would never get back to my old self, and that trying to come back was permanently damaging my brain, turned into serious anxiety. I made an appointment to see the neuropsy­ chologist who works with the Houston Texans and Houston Rock­ ets and specializes in concussion management. Steve and I went together, and it was beyond helpful. I learned that the anticipatory anxiety I was experiencing about the fear that I would never feel like myself again was normal, and she gave me some strategies to deal with it. I also got the okay to go back to work and do some light exercise, and she gave me some tips on how to listen to what my body needed. When I got home that day I felt hopeful. *I can do this. I've still* *got a little more than two weeks before the tour now, and I can* *start first thing tomorrow if this weather clears up.* Hurricane Harvey hit Houston the next day. Our neighbor­ hood was decimated. Team members lost their homes. It was heartbreaking. The book tour launched on time, we moved in the middle of the hurricane cleanup, more hard things happened, more beauti­ ful things happened, and connecting with my community was a healing balm. Somehow we all managed to love and lean on each other with so much empathy and kindness through those months that shame kept its distance. Mercifully, I haven't had another injury or illness as serious as that concussion, but I did wrestle down a virus over Christmas and nurse both of my kids through mono over the past year. I'm happy to report that while I've never used "suck it up" and "push through" with anyone but myself, they are no longer in my vo­ cabulary at all. It took fifty years to let go of those shame mes­ sages, but better late than never. SHAME 101 I always start with the Shame 1-2-3's: 1. We all have it. Shame is universal and one of the most primitive human emotions that we experience. The only people who don't experience shame are those who lack the capacity for empathy and human connection. Here's your choice: 'Fess up to experiencing shame or admit that you're a sociopath. *Quick note: This is the only time that* *shame seems like a good option.* 2. We're all afraid to talk about shame. Just the word is uncomfortable. 3. The less we talk about shame, the more control it has over our lives. First, shame is the fear of disconnection. As we talked about in the myths of vulnerability, we are physically, emotionally, cog­ nitively, and spiritually hardwired for connection, love, and be­ longing. Connection, along with love and belonging, is why we are here, and it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. Shame is the fear of disconnection---it's the fear that something we've done or failed to do, an ideal that we've not lived up to, or a goal that we've not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection. Here's the definition of shame that emerged from my research: Shame is the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection. Shame drives two tapes: *Never good enough.* *Who do you think you are?* These gremlinlike voices work as a terrible vise. Right when you overcome the "not good enough" whisper and muster up the cour­ age to enter the arena, the shame gremlins hit you with "Wow. You think you have what it takes to pull this off? Good luck." The Texas gremlins would say, "Don't get too big for your britches, sister." Retreating into our smallness becomes the most seductive and easiest way to stay safe in the midst of the shame squeeze. But, as we've talked about, when we armor and contort ourselves into smallness, things break and we suffocate. Here are some of the responses we received when we asked people for an example of shame: Shame is getting laid off when we're expecting our first child. Shame is hiding my addiction. Shame is raging at my kids. Shame was my response to seeing my parents' shame when I came out. Shame is covering up a mistake at work and getting caught. Shame is failing at my business after my friends invested in it. Shame is getting a promotion, then getting demoted six months later because I wasn't succeeding. Shame is my boss calling me a loser in front of our col­ leagues. Shame is not making partner. Shame is my wife asking me for a divorce and telling me that she wants children, but not with me. Shame is getting sexually harassed at work but being too afraid to say anything because he's the guy everyone loves. Shame is constantly being asked to speak on behalf of all Latinos in marketing meetings. I'm from Kansas. I don't even speak Spanish. Shame is being proud of a completed project, then being told it wasn't at all what my boss wanted or expected. Shame is watching things change so fast and no longer knowing how and where I can contribute. The fear of being irrelevant is a huge shame trigger that we are not address­ ing at work. We may not be able to relate to the exact examples, but if we know ourselves and are in touch with our vulnerability, we can recognize that unbearable pain in other people's experiences. Shame is universal. Current neuroscience research shows that the pain and feel­ ings of rejection that shame inflicts are as real as physical pain. Emotions can hurt. And just as we have to describe, name, and talk about physical pain to heal it, we have to recognize and talk about shame to get out from under it. This is even more difficult than talking about physical pain because shame derives its power from being unspoken. That's why even the word *shame* is tough to say. SHAME, GUILT, HUMILIATION, AND EMBARRASSMENT Another reason that shame is so difficult to talk about is vocabu­ lary. We often use the terms *embarrassment, guilt, humiliation,* and *shame* interchangeably, when in reality these experiences are very different in terms of biology, biography, behavior, and self­ talk, and they lead to radically different outcomes. Let's start with shame and guilt, because these are the two that we most often confuse, and the consequence of doing that is severe. The majority of shame researchers and clinicians agree that the difference between shame and guilt is best understood as the difference between "I am bad" and "I did something bad." Guilt = I did something bad. Shame = I am bad. When I was trying to decide how much I wanted to share with my team about how fear and anxiety were the real drivers behind my unreasonable timelines, it was shame that was holding me back. As I said in the previous section, the gremlin message was *You research leadership and you can't even lead. You're a joke.* It wasn't guilt: *Man, I've been unfair to my team with these* *timelines. I've made the wrong choice for the wrong reasons.* It was shame: *It's not that I've made bad choices. I am a bad* *leader.* In our political chaos, people throw around the word *shame­* *less* when they see someone make a self-serving or unethical deci­ sion, and attributing unconscionable behavior to a lack of shame. This is wrong and dangerous. Shame isn't the cure, it's the cause. Don't let what looks like a bloated ego and narcissism fool you into thinking there's a lack of shame. Shame and fear are almost al­ ways driving that unethical behavior. We're now seeing that shame often fuels narcissistic behavior. In fact, I define narcis­ sism as the shame-based fear of being ordinary. Grandiosity and bluster are easy to assign to an overinflated ego. It's tough to get a glimpse of the fear and lack of self-worth that are actually behind the posturing and selfishness because posturing leads to weaponizing hurt and turning it on other peo­ ple. The last thing people like that need is more shame. More ac­ countability for their behavior and lack of empathy? Yes. More shame just makes them more dangerous, gives them the opportu­ nity to redirect attention to the shaming behavior, and, weirdly, can drum up support from others who are also looking for a way to discharge their pain and an enemy to blame. Shame is not a compass for moral behavior. It's much more likely to drive destructive, hurtful, immoral, and self-aggrandizing behavior than it is to heal it. Why? Because where shame exists, empathy is almost always absent. That's what makes shame dan­ gerous. The opposite of experiencing shame is experiencing em­ pathy. The behavior that many of us find so egregious today is more about people being empathyless, not shameless. While shame is highly correlated with addiction, violence, ag­ gression, depression, eating disorders, and bullying, guilt is neg­ atively correlated with these outcomes. Empathy and values live in the contours of guilt, which is why it's a powerful and socially adaptive emotion. When we apologize for something we've done, make amends, or change a behavior that doesn't align with our values, guilt---not shame---is most often the driving force. We feel guilty when we hold up something we've done or failed to do against our values and find they don't match up. It's a psy­ chologically uncomfortable feeling, but one that's helpful. The discomfort of cognitive dissonance is what drives meaningful change. Shame, however, corrodes the very part of us that be­ lieves we can change and do better. Humiliation is another word that we often confuse with *shame.* Donald Klein captures the difference between shame and humiliation when he writes, "People believe they deserve their shame; they do not believe they deserve their humiliation." If Sonja is in a meeting with her colleagues and her principal, and her prin­ cipal calls her a failure because of her class's test scores, Sonja will probably experience that as either shame or humiliation. If Sonja's self-talk is *I am a failure---*that's shame. If her self­ talk is "Man, my boss is so out of control, I don't deserve this"--- that's humiliation. Humiliation feels terrible and makes for a miserable work or home environment---and if it's ongoing, it can certainly become shame if we start to buy into the messaging. It is, however, still less destructive than shame, where we internal­ ize the "failure" comment. Sonja's humiliation self-talk is "This isn't about me." When we do that, it's less likely that we'll shut down, act out, or fight back. We stay aligned with our values while trying to solve the problem. Embarrassment is normally fleeting and can usually even­ tually be funny. It's by far the least serious and detrimental of these emotions. The hallmark of embarrassment is that when we do something embarrassing, we don't feel alone. We know other folks have done the same thing and, like a blush, the feeling will pass rather than define us. Getting clear on the language is an important start to under­ standing shame. Emotional literacy is the core of shame resil­ ience, which means moving from shame to empathy---the real antidote to shame that we'll dig into more later in this section. HOW SHAME SHOWS UP AT WORK Looking for shame in organizations is like inspecting a home for termites. If you walk through a house and actually spot termites, you have an acute problem that's probably been going on for a while. If you walk through an office or school or place of worship and you actually see shame---you see a manager berating an em­ ployee or a teacher belittling a student or clergy using shame as *a* control mechanism or an activist using shame as a social justice tool---you're witnessing a full-blown threat to your culture. You have to figure out how and why it's happening and deal with it im­ mediately (and without shame). What's trickier is that in most cases, shame is hidden behind the walls of organizations. It's not dormant---it's slowly eating away at innovation, trust, connection, and culture---but it's tougher to spot. Here's what to look for: Perfectionism Favoritism Gossiping Back-channeling Comparison Self-worth tied to productivity Harassment Discrimination Power over Bullying Blaming Teasing Cover-ups These are all behavioral cues that shame has permeated a cul­ ture. A more obvious sign is if shame has become an outright management tool. Is there evidence of people in leadership roles bullying others, criticizing subordinates in front of colleagues, delivering public reprimands, or setting up reward systems that intentionally embarrass, shame, or humiliate people? In one of our workshops, a woman leaned back in her chair with tears in her eyes and said, "My shame is so deep I don't even know how to go there." Her colleagues listened with care as she opened up about a boss who'd repeatedly criticized her in front of others. Faith communities and schools are not exempt from shame. In our original research on shame, 85 percent of the people we interviewed could recall a school incident from their childhood that was so shaming, it changed how they thought of themselves as learners. What makes this worse is that approximately half of those recollections were what I refer to as *creativity scars.* The research participants could point to a specific incident in which they were told or shown that they weren't good writers, artists, musicians, dancers, or something else creative. The shame tool used in these situations was almost always comparison. This helps explain why the gremlins are so powerful when it comes to creativity and innovation, and why using comparison as a man­ agement tool stifles both. On the flip side of that finding, the same data showed that more than 90 percent of the people we interviewed could name a teacher, coach, school administrator, or faculty member who rein­ forced their self-worth and helped them believe in themselves and their ability. What do these seemingly competing findings tell us? School leaders have enormous power and influence, and how they use that power and influence changes people. For better or worse. I've met plenty of daring leaders who are committed to not using shame, but I've never been in a totally shame-free organiza­ tion. Maybe they exist, but I'd be surprised to find one. The best­ case scenario is that it's a limited or contained problem rather than a cultural norm. One of the most common scenarios that come up in the research is the shame people feel when they're fired, and *how* they're fired. Susan Mann has over three decades of senior leadership ex­perience in banking, higher education, and philanthropy. Before starting her own coaching and consulting practice, Susan was the head of the global learning and development team at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Credentialed by the International Coach Federation, Susan is a founding member of the Daring Way senior faculty. (The Daring Way is our training and certification program for helping professionals offered through Daring Educa­ tion, our nonprofit entity.) Susan helps grow the leadership capacity of our company by coaching our emerging leaders. When I asked her about the very tough task of firing employees, she said this: Early in my human resources career one of my mentors taught me always to give people a "way out with dignity." Three decades later---after countless conversations advis­ ing leaders how to fire people---I feel like I have leaned into this advice hundreds of times. What does it mean to give someone a way out with dig­ nity? Remember the human and pay attention to feelings. Of course, leaders must make the thoughtful business de­ cisions that are right for the company: Lay people off, fire someone, reassign a person to a different role. Definitely do what makes sense to achieve the company's goals. *And,* while you're doing what you need to do, always hold the human in mind. Keep that person who will be im­ pacted by your decision squarely in front of you. This per­ son has a family, a career, and a life that will be affected. When you're delivering the news, be kind. Be clear. Be respectful. Be generous. Can you let the person resign rather than be fired? Can you provide severance pay? Ask the person how they want to let colleagues know about their departure and follow their lead on that if possible. Can you allow a graceful exit, so they retain their digni­ ty? This isn't about avoiding hard decisions and hard con­ versations. It's about knowing that we all have hearts that can be hurt. Great leaders make tough "people decisions" and are tender in implementing them. That's giving people a way out with dignity. I asked Susan what gets in the way of giving people a way out with dignity. Susan replied with these answers: Armoring up: I've seen a lot of leaders get defensive when they decide to fire someone. It's a weighty decision, and I see people stay in their heads and be super rational, citing all the reasons why the decision is correct and justifiable. It's a form of self-protection. Time and money: Giving people a way out with dignity is a bigger investment of time, money, heart, energy. It requires us to slow down, be more thoughtful, and have fuller conversations. That doesn't happen as often as it should. The fall guy: Sometimes a person takes the hit for a broken system or team. The leader is looking---often unconsciously---for someone to blame for what's not going well, rather than looking at herself in the mirror and won­ dering what she could do to fix the bigger issues. Lack of vulnerability and courage: an inability to hold the duality of head and heart and engage both at the same time. I see leaders express fear about the emotion the per­ son being fired may show: "I'm afraid she's going to cry or get mad." Sometimes they're afraid they may show emotion themselves: "What if I'm so nervous I lose it?" She concluded, "There is an art to giving people a way out with dignity. It's a huge skill to develop and it takes practice. Few companies and leaders make that skill a priority." Perhaps the most devastating sign of a shame infestation is a cover-up. Cover-ups are perpetrated not only by the original ac­ tors, but by a culture of complicity and shame. Sometimes indi­ viduals are complicit because staying quiet or hiding the truth benefits them and/or doesn't jeopardize their influence or power. Other times, people are complicit because it's the norm---they work in a cover-up culture that uses shame to keep people quiet. Either way, when the culture of a corporation, nonprofit, uni­ versity, government, church, sports program, school, or family mandates that it is more important to protect the reputation of that system and those in power than it is to protect the basic human dignity of individuals or communities, you can be certain of the following problems: Shame is systemic. Complicity is part of the culture. Money and power trump ethics. Accountability is dead. Control and fear are management tools. And there's a trail of devastation and pain. When it comes to real talk about shame, we have to set it up the right way so people feel safe. These are powerful conversa­ tions. Giving people permission to talk about shame is liberating. It shines a light in a dark corner. People realize they're not alone. Sharing their stories together normalizes shame, creates connec­ tion, and builds trust. These are the hard conversations that can point the way to desired new behaviors and culture shifts. And in some cases, a healing conversation about shame can change our lives. SHAME RESILIENCE The bad news is that shame *resistance* is not possible---as long as we care about connection, the fear of disconnection will always be a powerful force in our lives, and the pain caused by shame will always be real. But here's the great news: Shame *resilience* is pos­ sible, teachable, and within reach for all of us. Shame resilience is the ability to practice authenticity when we experience shame, to move through the experience without sacrificing our values, and to come out on the other side of the shame experience with more courage, compas­ sion, and connection than we had going into it. Ultimately, shame resilience is about moving from shame to empathy--- the real antidote to shame. In the next section, we're going to do a deep dive into empathy and self-compassion, but for now it's important to understand that if we share our story with someone who responds with empa­ thy and understanding, shame can't survive. Self-compassion is also critically important, but because shame is a social concept---it happens between people---it also heals best between people. A so­ cial wound needs a social balm, and empathy is that balm. Self­ compassion is key because when we're able to be gentle with ourselves in the midst of shame, we're more likely to reach out, connect, and experience empathy. Empathy Empathy is one of the linchpins of cultures built on connection and trust---it's also an essential ingredient for teams who take risks and show up for rumbles. There are five elements to empa- Ill ***Rumbling with Vulnerability*** \| 137 thy, and we will explore each one. Meanwhile, empathy is easily confused with sympathy, giving advice, and judgment disguised as concern. To add empathy to our courage toolbox, it's important that we be able to translate it into specific skills that we can learn and practice, readily distinguish empathy from sympathy, and understand the big barriers to empathy. Let's start with a story. A couple of years ago, Suzanne---our president and COO---and I spent the day facilitating our daring leadership program at Fort Bragg. It was an amazing experience, and I had coordinated the logistics of the trip with military precision. The plan was to leave the base when we were done, drive 74.1 miles to the Raleigh- Durham International Airport, return our rental car, grab lunch, and get to the gate with ninety minutes to spare. After running several scenarios and checking on-time flight histories, I was con­ fident I could make it home that night for the big game. Ellen picked up a field hockey stick for the first time the sum­ mer before high school. With some encouragement from a coach she met at the open house for incoming freshmen and some gruel­ ing lessons in hundred-degree weather during the summer, she made the team her freshman year. Sadly, when it comes to land sports, Steve and I have zero ge­ netic gifts to pass down to our kids. We're swimmers and Steve is a water polo player, but we've got no turf speed. Ellen loved her coaches and her teammates. She worked hard, never missed games or practices, spent hours practicing her stick skills in our yard, and played with heart for all four years of high school. Suzanne and I were scheduled to land back in Houston two hours before the big game, which gave me just enough time to change clothes, load twenty surprise fat heads in my car, and get to the fields for senior night. (Fat heads are photos of players' faces blown up to three feet tall and two feet wide, on sticks, to hold up in the stands.) This was the final field hockey game of Ellen's high school career, and during the halftime ceremony, parents give their senior daughters flowers and escort them across the field. Everything was going according to plan, and I could barely contain my excitement when I got a text from Ellen: "I can't wait to see you tonight. I can't believe it's senior night!!! OMG! How did time go so fast???" We were lining up to board when I texted back, "I'm so proud of you! I'll be home in a couple of hours. GO TIGERS!!!" There had been no movement in the boarding line when the gate agent made an announcement that our flight was delayed ten minutes due to mechanical difficulties. *No sweat. I have built in* *sixty minutes of delays. If we hit ninety minutes of delays, I initi­* *ate Plan B: I go straight to the game and my friend Cookie picks* *up the fat heads.* Twenty minutes later, I see the pilot talking to the gate agents, and I grab Suzanne by the arm. It startles her and she whispers, "What's wrong? What's going on? Are you okay?" I'm trying to not make a scene so I whisper back, "They're going to cancel our flight. Get on your laptop right now and book the next flight." Here's one of the many great things about Suzanne: She can get shit done like no one's business. Street fight? You want her on your side. No questions asked, she starts working on flights, but the only way out of North Carolina is to fly to Atlanta, change airlines, and land in Houston at ten [p.m.]{.smallcaps} After she books it, she looks at me and says, "Why do you think they're canceling this flight?" Before I can even answer her question, the gate agent an­ nounces that the flight is canceled for mechanical reasons, and there's an immediate stampede to the desk. Suzanne and I find a free space to sit down, and we call back to our office in Houston. Within minutes, three people are working on getting us home in time for the game. After forty-five minutes, Suzanne looked at me and said, "I'm so sorry. There's no way to get home in time for the game." "But if we drive \..." She put her hand on my forearm. "We've tried everything. I'm sorry." I said the one thing I tend to say and repeat when I'm desper­ ately overwhelmed: "I don't understand. I don't understand." Suzanne looked me right in the eyes. "We're not getting home before ten tonight." I just started sobbing. I mean crying to the point that people were staring. It was a profound experience of empathy for me be­ cause Suzanne didn't care that I was losing it in public. And, more important, she didn't try to make the situation better. She just said, "This sucks. This is such bullshit. I'd walk back to Houston with you if it helped." "I don't understand," I said again, trailing off. "I know what a big deal this is for you. This just sucks. My heart is breaking too." "But this is a big deal," I explained as if she hadn't just con­ firmed that in every way possible. Suzanne looked at me and said, "Hell, yeah, it's a big deal. It is a super big deal. You did everything you could to be there. It's an important night." So often, when someone is in pain, we're afraid to say, "Yes, this hurts. Yes, this is a big deal. Yes, this sucks." We think our job is to make things better, so we minimize the pain. But Suzanne didn't minimize my pain. She had the courage to reflect back to me the truth of how I was feeling, which was that I was destroyed that I couldn't be there for this big night for my daughter. She chose practicing empathy with me over her own comfort. "I really do feel heartbroken." She had nailed what I was feel­ing when she said her heart was breaking too. Looking back, I see that it was the big game and the special ceremony, but it was also the fact that Ellen was months away from leaving home for college and this was the first of many formal goodbyes to high school. It was layers of grief. I told Suzanne, "I know in the big scheme of things, it's not a big deal. When I see people crying at airports, I always think about what they might be going through, and I try to smile that *I* *see you and I'm sorry* smile. This is not a funeral or an accident or something really bad. I don't know what's happening to me." Suzanne wouldn't have any of the comparative suffering. She wasn't going to minimize my hurt, and she wasn't going to watch me rank-order my misery: "No, it's not any of those things, but this is a big deal. This hurts." I've learned a lot from research about the danger of compara­ tive suffering and the race to misery. If we believe empathy is fi­ nite, like pizza, and practicing empathy with someone leaves fewer slices for others, then perhaps comparing levels of suffering would be necessary. Luckily, however, empathy is infinite and renewable. The more you give, the more we all have. That means all pain can be met with empathy---there's no reason to rank and ration. This experience with Suzanne was empathy in practice. In those bad moments, it's not our job to make things better. It's just not. Our job is to connect. It's to take the perspective of someone else. Empathy is not connecting to an experience, it's con­ necting to the emotions that underpin an experience. People often ask me how they can show empathy for someone who is going through something they've never experienced. Again, empathy is connecting to the feeling under the experience, not the experience itself. If you've ever felt grief, disappointment, shame, fear, loneliness, or anger, you're qualified. Now you just need the courage to practice and build your empathy skills. Back at that airport, I was right on the verge of causing a scene with my crying, so I found a hiding spot at the Life Is Good airport shop. *Oh, the irony.* If you're the woman who was working there that day---thank you for seeing me and asking me if I was okay. But most of all, I'm so grateful that you let me sit on the floor and hide for thirty minutes. Your kindness mattered. From behind the round rack of colorful T-shirts, I texted Ellen to let her know that I was going to miss the game. I consid­ ered calling but chose to text because I didn't want to lose it with her on the phone before the game. Of course, her text was the stuff that love is made of: I'm sorry about your flight. TBH, I know you're freaking out. But this is one night, and you've come to 100 games and practiced with me and made me go to camps when I didn't want to and hosted parties and took my entire team to Galveston. That's what counts. Love you so much. I'll tell Dad to take lots of pictures. Steve, on the other hand, got the phone call from under the T-shirt rack. He just listened. When I swore that I was going to quit my job and never get on another flight, he said, "I don't blame you. You worked so hard on those giant heads and the flowers. You've been such a big support for Ellen. I'm just so sorry this is happening." And thank God again for Suzanne. Several times on the flights home, I'd look at my watch and burst into tears. She would just squeeze my hand and say "I know." Around 8:30 that night, I looked at her and said, "The game's over." She looked at me and said, "Did we get any pics yet?" She said *we.* She didn't say, "That was hard, but mercifully it's over." She asked if *we* had any pictures yet. She was still in it because I was still in it. It was so hard. But I never felt alone. Empathy is a choice. And it's a vulnerable choice, because if I were to choose to connect with you through empathy, I would have to connect with something in myself that knows that feel­ ing. In the face of a difficult conversation, when we see that someone's hurt or in pain, it's our instinct as human beings to try to make things better. We want to fix, we want to give advice. But empathy isn't about fixing, it's the brave choice to be with someone in their darkness---not to race to turn on the light so we feel better. If I share something with you that's difficult for me, I'd rather you say, "I don't even know what to say right now, I'm just so glad you told me." Because in truth, a response can rarely make some­ thing better. Connection is what heals. If struggle is being down in a hole, empathy is not jumping into the hole with someone who is struggling and taking on their emotions, or owning their struggle as yours to fix. If their issues become yours, now you have two people stuck in a hole. Not help­ ful. Boundaries are important here. We have to know where we end and others begin if we really want to show up with empathy. Theresa Wiseman, a nursing scholar in the UK, studied em­ pathy across every profession that requires deep connection and relationship, and she identified four attributes of empathy. These attributes fully aligned with what emerged from my data, but they did not address the idea of "paying attention" to the degree that it emerged in my work. To solve for that, I added a fifth attribute from Kristin Neff's research. Dr. Neff is a self-compassion re­ searcher at the University of Texas at Austin---we'll look at more of her work in a bit. While each of these components is rich for study---you'll find hundreds of books in any research library on every one of the five---we're going to explore how these elements come together to create empathy, the rocket fuel for building trust and increasing connection. Empathy Skill \#1: To see the world as others see it, or perspective taking We see the world through a set of unique lenses that bring to­ gether who we are, where we come from, and our vast experi­ ences. Our lenses certainly include factors like age, race, ethnicity, ability, and spiritual beliefs, but we also have other lenses that shape how we see the world, including our knowledge, insights, and experience. Our take on the world is completely unique be­ cause our point of view is a product of our history and experi­ ences. This is why ten people can witness the same incident and have ten different perspectives on what happened, how it hap­ pened, and why it happened. Are there any observable, knowable, universal truths? Of course. Math and science have given us many examples. But when it comes to the swirl of human emotion, behavior, language, and cognition---there are many valid perspectives. One of the signature mistakes with empathy is that we believe we can take our lenses off and look through the lenses of someone else. We can't. Our lenses are soldered to who we are. What we can do, however, is honor people's perspectives as truth even when they're different from ours. That's a challenge if you were raised in majority culture---white, straight, male, middle-class, Christian---and you were likely taught that your perspective is *the* correct perspective and everyone else needs to adjust their lens. Or, more accurately, you weren't taught anything about perspec­ tive taking, and the default---*My truth is* the *truth---*is reinforced by every system and situation you encounter. Children are very receptive to learning perspective-taking skills because they're naturally curious about the world and how others operate in it. Those of us who were taught perspective­ taking skills as children owe our parents a huge debt of gratitude. Those of us who were not introduced to that skill set when we were younger will have to work harder and fight armoring up in order to acquire it as adults. Perspective taking requires becoming the learner, not the knower. Let's say that I'm talking to a colleague on my team who is twenty-five, African American, gay, and grew up in an affluent neighborhood in Chicago. In our conversation we realize that we have completely different opinions about a new program we want to develop. As we're debating the issues, he says, "My expe­ riences lead me to believe this approach will fall flat with the people we want to reach." I can't put down my straight, white, middle-aged, female lens and just snap on his lens to see what he sees, but I can ask, "Tell me more---what are you thinking?" and respect his truth as a full truth, not just an off version of my truth. This is exactly why every study we see confirms the positive correlation between inclusivity, innovation, and performance. Again, it's only when diverse perspectives are included, re­ spected, and valued that we can start to get a full picture of the world, who we serve, what they need, and how to suc­ cessfully meet people where they are. I love what Beyonce said in her first-person essay in the Sep­ tember 2018 issue of *Vogue:* If people in powerful positions continue to hire and cast only people who look like them, sound like them, come from the same neighborhoods they grew up in, they will never have a greater understanding of experiences differ­ ent from their own. They will hire the same models, curate the same art, cast the same actors over and over again, and we will all lose. The beauty of social media is it's completely democratic. Everyone has a say. Everyone's voice counts, and everyone has a chance to paint the world from their own perspective. She was photographed for the magazine cover by lyler Mitch­ ell, making him the first African American photographer to shoot the cover of *Vogue* in its 126-year history. As we push on these issues and discover our own blind spots (we all have them), we need to stay very aware of the armor assem­ bly process here: We cannot practice empathy if we need to be knowers; if we can't be learners, we cannot be empathic. And, to be clear (and kind), if we need to be knowers, empathy isn't the only loss. Because curiosity is the key to rumbling with vulnerability, knowers struggle with all four of the building blocks of courage. Empathy Skill \#2: To be nonjudgmental It is not easy to do this when you enjoy judging as much as most of us do. Based on research, there are two ways to predict when we are going to judge: We judge in areas where we're most susceptible to shame, and we judge people who are doing worse than we are in those areas. So if you find yourself feeling incredibly judgmen­ tal about appearance, and you can't figure out why, that's a clue that it's a hard issue for you. It's important to examine where we feel judgment because it can quickly become a vicious shame cycle. The judgment of others leaves us feeling shame, so we offload the hurt by judging others. I see this happen often in organizations. Shit rolls downhill and ends up in the consumer's lap. I've yet to come across a company that has both a shaming, judgmental culture and wonderful cus­ tomer service. Staying out of judgment means being aware of where we are the most vulnerable to our own shame, our own struggle. The good news is that we don't judge in areas where we feel a strong sense of self-worth and grounded confidence, so the more of that we build, the more we let go of judgment. Empathy Skill \#3: To understand another person's feelings Empathy Skill \#4: To communicate your understanding of that person's feelings I'm combining these two attributes because, when we break them down to skills, they're inextricably connected. Understanding emotions in others and communicating our understanding of these emotions require us to be in touch with our own feelings. Ideally, it also means that we are fluent in the language of feelings, or, at the very least, conversational and somewhat comfortable in the world of emotions. The vast majority of people I've inter­ viewed are not comfortable in the world of emotions and nowhere close to fluent in the language of feelings. Emotional literacy, in my opinion, is as critical as having lan­ guage. When we can't name and articulate what's happening to us emotionally, we cannot move through it. Imagine going to the doctor with an excruciating pain in your right shoulder, a pain so great that every time you feel it you're left breathless and doubled over. But when you arrive at the doctor's office, you have duct tape over your mouth and your hands are tied behind your back. The doctor is anxious to help you, but when she asks you what happened, you can only manage "Mmph. Mmph" through your tape. You're desperate to explain, but you're unable to speak, so you can't name it, you can't articulate it, you can't describe it. The doctor asks you to point to it, but your hands are tied, and all you can do is jump up and down with your eyes darting to the right. You mumble and jump until both you and the doctor are ex­hausted and give up. This is exactly what happens when we aren't fluent in feelings. It's almost impossible to process emotion when we can't identify, name, and talk about our experiences. And if that's not enough of a reason to dig in and start learn­ ing, emotional literacy is also a prerequisite for empathy, shame resilience, and the ability to reset and rise after a fall. For exam­ ple, how do we get back on our feet after a fall if we can't recognize the subtle but important differences between disappointment and anger, between shame and guilt, between fear and grief? And if we can't recognize these emotions in ourselves, it's almost impos­ sible to do so with others. We're finishing a study right now on emotional literacy, and I'll give you the movie trailer. Cue the music and pretend this is the dramatic announcer voice: *In a world of emotional literacy,* *we would be able to recognize and name between thirty and* *forty emotions in ourselves and others.* I'm hedging on the num­ ber because we're in the final stages of confirming the exact emo­ tions, but it's safe to say that fluency in emotional conversation means being able to name at least thirty of them. The last attribute, communicating our understanding of the emotions, can feel like the biggest risk because we can get it wrong. And not if but when we are off base, we need the courage to circle back. In fact, as long as we show up with our whole hearts, pay attention, and stay curious, we can course-correct. This is why therapists are frequently stereotyped as saying "What I hear you saying is \..." It's a check-in that allows someone to say, "Nope. That's not what I'm saying. I'm not sad. I'm pissed off." For example, in non-therapisty language, you could say: "I'm sorry about the project assignment. That sucks and must be so frustrating. Want to talk about it?" This question tells your col­ league that you're wdlling to "go there" and rumble openly about what they're feeling. Because you were willing to put emotion on the table, it gives them the opportunity to come back and say, "I don't know about frustrated. I think I'm actually really embarrassed and disap­ pointed. I mean, everyone talked about me being the perfect per­ son for it. I never imagined not getting it. Now I have to explain why I didn't get it and I don't even understand." This exchange alone builds the connection and alignment that we need to have a meaningful, trust-building, and even healing conversation. NAVIGATING THE ICEBERG One reason emotion is difficult to identify and name is the iceberg effect. Think about an iceberg for a minute. There's the part that you can see above the water, and then it potentially goes on for miles beneath the surface. Many of the emotions that we experi­ ence show up as pissed off or shut down on the surface. Below the surface, there's much more nuance and depth. Shame and grief are two examples of emotions that are hard to fully express, so we turn to anger or silence. This is an easy concept to understand, for one reason: The vast majority of us find it easier to be mad than hurt. Not only is it easier to express anger than it is to express pain, our culture is more accepting of anger. So the next time you're shutting down or angry, ask yourself what lies beneath. To review, empathy is first: I take the perspective of another person, meaning I become the listener and the student, not the knower. Second: I stay out of judgment. And third and fourth: I try to understand what emotion they're articulating and commu­ nicate my understanding of that emotion. Empathy Skill \#5: Mindfulness I borrowed the fifth element, mindfulness, from Kristin Neff. Neff describes mindfulness as "taking a balanced approach to negative emotions so that feelings are neither suppressed nor exagger­ ated.... We cannot ignore our pain and feel compassion for it at the same time\.... Mindfulness requires that we not be 'over­ identified' with thoughts and feelings, so that we are caught up and swept away by negative reactivity." The word *mindfulness* can get on my nerves sometimes, so I opt for *paying attention.* Neff's findings on mindfulness, espe­ cially the piece on not overidentifying with or exaggerating our feelings, are completely aligned with what we found in our work. Ruminating and getting stuck is as unhelpful as not noticing at all. In short, I try to practice mindfulness by paying attention to what's happening in these conversations, to the feelings they're bringing up in me, to my body language, and to the body language of the person I'm talking to. Minimizing and exaggerating emo­ tions lead to empathic misses in equal measure. WHAT EMPATHY LOOKS LIKE Whenever I'm teaching empathy, people want more certainty. Early in my teaching career, a social work student asked if I could develop an empathy decision tree: *If they say this, I respond with* *this. If they take that turn, I turn with them and say that.* No such luck. Empathy is about connection, and being connected is the best navigation system. If we make a wrong turn in our attempt to be with someone in their struggle, connection is not only forgiv­ ing, it's quick to reroute. The empathy decision tree doesn't work because we're all dif­ ferent. For example, if you're sharing something difficult with someone, do you want that person to: Make eye contact? Look away? Reach out and hug you? Give you space? Respond right away? Stay quiet and listen? If you ask a hundred people these questions, you'll get a hun­ dred different answers. The only solution is to connect and pay attention. After I looked at Suzanne in the airport and said "I don't un­ derstand," and she made it clear that I was going to miss Ellen's game, she pulled back a bit but stayed right with me. Coming in for a hug would have been a bad idea. I wouldn't have actually punched her or put her in a headlock, but I would have wanted to. She was locked in, engaged, and could read me well enough to know that she should look me straight in the eye, tell me that I wasn't going to make Ellen's game, and then lean back and give me some space. Suzanne and I were connected after spending the day to­ gether at Fort Bragg, but this also works if you're practicing empa­ thy with someone you don't know that well. Engage, stay curious, stay connected. Let go of the fear of saying the wrong thing, the need to fix it, and the desire to offer the perfect response that cures everything (that's not going to happen). You don't have to do it perfectly. Just do it. I had the great pleasure of working with leaders at the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation a couple of years ago and getting to know Melinda, who is a champion of courage-building across the foundation and is doing tremendous work modeling how empathy and vulnerability work together to create a more connected culture. A little history on Melinda: After joining Microsoft in 1987, Melinda distinguished herself as a leader in the development of multimedia products and was later appointed Microsoft's general manager of information products. In 1996, Melinda left Microsoft to focus on her philanthropic work and family. Today, along with Bill, she shapes and approves the founda­ tion's strategies, reviews results, and sets the overall direction of the organization. Together, they meet with grantees and partners to further the foundation's goal of improving equity in the United States and around the world. Melinda has seen firsthand that em­ powering women and girls can bring transformational improve­ ments in the health and prosperity of families, communities, and societies. Her current work focuses on gender equity as a path to meaningful change. On her experiences with vulnerability, Melinda writes: I started experimenting with vulnerability, and honestly I have been shocked at the response. Bill and I meet with all foundation employees several times a year, and these meetings are important opportunities for us to build a con­ nection with our team. Recently, I admitted during one of these sessions that Bill and I keep a list of dos and don'ts for ourselves---basically the things we need to work on to make sure we're setting the right example. So many people came up to me later and said knowing I am clear about my need to improve helped them feel OK about the things they could do better. I also started talking a little bit more about my children in these meetings. I'd always shied away from the subject, just because it felt so personal. But it's turned out to reso­ nate with a lot of employees who are also trying to balance work and home life---and who are also living their values every day at the foundation and through their parenting. I feel more connected to the individuals and the collective culture of the foundation because I've taken steps to let my­ self be vulnerable. EMPATHY IN PRACTICE When we're struggling and in need of connection and empathy, we need to share with someone who embraces us for our strengths and struggles---someone who has earned the right to hear our story. Finding that right someone takes practice. And so does *being* that right person. When it comes to empathy, it's a matter of the right person, at the right time, on the right issues. There are six known barriers to empathy, where the practice can go sideways or you can experience an empathic miss. Every­ one knows what that feels like---when you share something with someone that is personal and vulnerable, like a struggle---or even something exciting or happy---and you don't feel heard, seen, or understood. It's a sinking feeling, where you feel exposed and sometimes right on the edge of shame. The clinical term for that is *empathic failure,* though I prefer *empathic miss,* because it's not quite as shaming. Let's look at the six big ways we tend to miss, so that we can recognize them when we experience them, and be better when we have the opportunity to connect with people in struggle. Empathy Miss \#1: Sympathy vs. Empathy Want to know what would have made me feel alone and worse at the airport? Sympathy. If Suzanne had said, "I'm so sorry. You poor thing." Or "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you." She didn't feel *bad for* me. She felt pain *with* me. Empathy is feeling with people. Sympathy is feeling for them. Empathy fuels connection. Sympathy drives disconnection. I al­ ways think of empathy as this sacred space where someone's in a deep well, and they shout out from the bottom, "It's dark and scary down here. I'm overwhelmed." We peer over the edge and say "I see you," then we climb down with the confidence that we can get back out. "I know what it's like down here. And you're not alone." Of course, you don't climb down without your own way out. Jumping into the hole with no way out is enmeshment---jumping into struggle with someone while maintaining clear lines about what belongs to whom is empathy. Sympathy, on the other hand, is looking over the edge of that hole and saying: "Oh, it's bad, that looks terrible. So sorry." And you keep walking. There's a fun animated short on the difference between empathy and sympathy that the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce developed from a short snippet of a lecture I gave in London on empathy. It's illustrated and animated by the talented Katy Davis. You can watch it at brenebrown.com/videos/. The two most powerful words when someone's in struggle are "Me too." So powerful, in fact, that Tarana Burke started one of the most important movements of our time, the Me Too movement, with these two words, backing them up with action. The move­ ment addresses the widespread prevalence of sexual harassment and assault, especially in the workplace, and is a great example of how empathy builds courage and can facilitate deep change. "Me too" says *I may not have had the exact same experience* *as you, but I know this struggle, and you are not alone.* Sympathy says *Wow, that's bad, I feel so sorry for you. I don't* *know or understand what your experience is like, but I'll grant* *you that it looks pretty bad and I don't want to know.* Again, the difference between empathy and sympathy: feeling *with* and feeling/or. The empathic response: *I get it, I feel with you,* *and I've been there.* The sympathetic response: *I feel sorry for you.* If you want to see a shame cyclone turn extra deadly, throw one of these at it: "Oh, you poor thing." It's the equivalent of the Southern saying "Aww, bless your poor heart." When someone feels sorry for us, it magnifies our feelings of being alone. When someone feels with us, it magnifies our feeling of connection and normalcy. Empathy Miss \#2: The Gasp and Awe In this scenario, your colleague hears your story and feels shame on your behalf---they might gasp, and then they will likely confirm how horrified you should be. They're appalled. They're upset. There's awkward silence, and then you have to make your col­ league feel better. Here's an example: "I finally turned in that re­ portyesterday and I was so excited. I felt so good about it and then my principal called me and told me the last two pages of it were missing. I forgot to attach them." You're hoping your co-worker is going to say, "Oh, man, I've done that. It just sucks." But instead, this person gasps and says, "Oh, God, I'd just die." And then you're rushing in to say, "No, it's okay." Suddenly, you need to make that person feel better. Empathy Miss \#3: The Mighty Fall In this scenario, your friend needs to think of you as a pillar of worthiness and authenticity. This person can't help you because they're so let down by your imperfections. They're disappointed. This is the person you confide in and say, "My performance evalu­ ation did not go how I thought it was going to go and it kind of\... I don't know if I'm in a shame storm, or \... I'm just almost numb right now. I cannot believe that my rating was so low this quarter." This person's response is: "I just never expected that from you. When I think of you I don't think of you as the kind of person that gets that rating, I mean what happened?" Then all of a sud­den, you're not experiencing connection in an empathic way. You're defending yourself to someone because they're disap­ pointed. (Hint: This happens frequently in childhood and is a huge driver of perfectionism.) Empathy Miss \#4: The Block and Tackle Let's bring that performance review to this scenario, where your friend is so uncomfortable with vulnerability that he or she scolds you: "How did you let this happen? What were you thinking?" Or the friend looks for someone else to blame. "Who is that guy? We'll kick his ass. Or report him!" That's a huge empathic miss. I came to you because I'm in struggle about something, and you're making it easy on yourself by refusing to sit in discomfort---you're choosing instead to be pissed off at someone else or stand in judg­ ment of me. It's not helpful. Empathy Miss \#5: The Boots and Shovel This is a co-worker who desperately needs to make it better s that they can get out of their own discomfort. This person refuses to acknowledge that you can actually make mistakes or bad choices. This is the person who says, "You know, it's not that bad. It cannot be that bad. You know you're awesome. You're amazing." He's hustling to make you feel better, not hearing anything you feel, and not connecting to any emotion that you're describing. It is pretty disconcerting and reeks of bullshit. Empathy Miss \#6: If You Think That's Bad \... This person confuses connection with the opportunity to one-up. "That's nothing. Let me tell you about my performance evaluation in 1994, fourth quarter." Here's what gets dicey with comparing or competing. The most important words you can say to someone or you can hear from someone when you're in struggle are "Me too. You're not alone." That is different from "Oh, yeah? Me too. Listen to this." The primary distinction is that the latter response shifts the focus to the other person. THIS IS US So here's the bad news: When it comes to empathy, we all know people who come up short, and we've all been the person who comes up short. Empathy is a skill. Here's the ~~good~~ amazing news: With some skill-building, we can all learn how to practice empa­ thy. That's a huge gift. There are a couple of questions that we should think about as part of our skill-building: 1. When you think about those six types of empathy misses, are there one or two that shut you down? 2. What emotion comes up for you when your sharing meets one of these barriers, and how does that affect your con­ nection with the person? 3. On the flip side, how do you rate your own empathic skill? 4. Are there one or two responses that you typically use that you need to change? Again, we all have friends and colleagues who do this. And we all *are* friends and colleagues who do this. This is not about us and them. This is all of us. Including me, and I've taught this skill for two decades. I hawkishly watch myself when someone's story stirs up my own perfectionistic fear---especially if I think their situation im­ pacts me. When that happens, I'm very susceptible to this big em­ pathy miss: "Oh, my God, how could you have done that?" I'm pretty good at avoiding sympathy, because I've studied empathy and sympathy for so long. I don't do a lot of "I feel bad for you" or "I'm so sorry for you," just because it's probably the one that I'm most affected by on the receiving end. I also get a lot of disappointment masquerading as empathy. In a lecture I once said, "I just want to punch somebody." Dur­ ing the Q&A, someone raised their hand and said "You know, the need to punch someone does not feel very wholehearted to me. And you are my wholehearted icon." I jumped right in. "I should not be your wholehearted icon. Wholeheartedness is something I'm striving for, but don't make me your role model. I'm on the journey with you trying to get there, but I don't have it mastered." Any assumption of perfection is an empathic miss. Empathy is a hard skill to learn because mastery requires practice, and practice means you'll screw it up big-time more than once. But that's how practice works. If you're not willing to miss 3,759 shots from the free throw line, you'll never be consistently good at making those shots. In many of our empathy workshops, we ask the participants to sign a poster that says: I agree to practice empathy, screw it up, circle back, clean it up, and try again. Make that commitment to yourself, your team, your friends, and your family. You have no idea how much it means to someone when you circle back and say, "You shared something hard with me, and I wish I had shown up in a different way. I really care about you and what you shared. Can I try again?" That's daring leadership. HOW TO PRACTICE SELF-COMPASSION The trickiest barrier to empathy? Take a look in the mirror. Being kind and extending the hypothesis of generosity to ourselves when we mess up is the first step. Resisting the urge to punish or shame ourselves when we make mistakes is true mastery. Dr. Kristin Neff of the University of Texas at Austin, men­tioned earlier in this section, runs the Self-Compassion Research Lab and is the author of *Self-Compassion: Stop Beating Yourself* *Up and Leave Insecurity Behind.* She writes about the three ele­ ments that make up the practice: self-kindness, humanity, and mindfulness. You'll remember mindfulness as empathy skill \#5 from above, which I tweaked slightly to "paying attention." While mindfulness has applications for empathy as well as self-compassion, with regard to self-compassion, she writes that it requires that we not take on thoughts and emotions as our own that might not belong to us. Put plainly: Do not take responsibil­ ity and ownership for the words of other people---just own your part. So in practice, change "She was so irritated with me" to simply "She was so irritated." Don't fixate, don't ruminate, don't get stuck. Neffs definition of self-kindness is contained and self- explanatory: "being warm and understanding toward ourselves when we suffer, fail, or feel inadequate, rather than ignoring our pain or flagellating ourselves with self-criticism." In my own life, this translates to one simple mandate: Talk to yourself the way you'd talk to someone you love. Most of us shame, belittle, and criticize ourselves in ways we'd never think of doing to others. I would never look at Ellen or Charlie and say, "God, you're so stu­ pid!" Yet I can whisper that to myself in a heartbeat. I'll give you a real example from my life. I recently did an in­ terview with a journalist for a magazine article. I always feel ex­ tremely vulnerable during media interviews because I'm not good at filtering, staying on script, and watching everything that I say. The "on the record" scenario is exactly the opposite of the type of interviewing I've done thousands of times for over twenty years, where the goal is to uncover real experiences by connecting, being open, and mutually sharing without any fear or filters. I'm never going to use anything in the research that you ask me not to, and you're never going to be identified unless we talk about it first, you agree, and you sign off on how I capture your words. Well, in the middle of this two-hour interview (which is way too long), the interviewer asks a question about juggling multiple priorities and I respond with "Oh, that's so \[effing\] hard." But the real word. I immediately say, "Sorry! Scratch that!" But it was too late. I was "on the record." That was fair. I was careless. Now, don't get me wrong---I'm a cusser from a long matriar­ chal line of cussers. I'm super comfortable with that; I just try to limit it in my writing. I think it has to do with my belief that in conversation, a well-placed cuss word or three seems really good, but in writing, it seems more intentional and less organic. And if it's on a T-shirt or something worn in public, I'll go Texas Baptist church lady on you. According to Steve, my language is way worse now than when I started my work, and it gets worse with every year of research. People share the toughest, most wrenching moments of their lives with me, and they don't sugarcoat their language, thankfully. Their words are as real, gritty, and rough as their stories. To make matters worse, Steve has nicknamed me "the Borg" from *Star Trek.* Just like the fictional drones that copy and repli­ cate other aliens, I have the tendency to pick up the accents and mannerisms of other people if I'm around them for any length of time. I interviewed a guy a few months ago who constantly talked about his bosses being "total pricks." Not a week later, Steve and I were in his truck when someone cut us off, and I pushed my face against the closed window and said, "What a total prick. Don't be such a total prick, dude!" Steve, having never heard me use that particular term in thirty years, just shook his head and laughed. Anyway, once I realized that my f-bomb was on the record, the very first thing I said to myself was, "You're such an idiot, Brene. Can't you hold it together for two hours?" Again, I would never talk that way to my family members or my colleagues. I would say, "You're exhausted, on a crushing book deadline, and overwhelmed. Give yourself a break. And don't be so hard on yourself---you're human and a lot of people relate to your messiness." But I beat myself up for two days until Steve grabbed me by the shoulders and said those exact words. Self-kindness is self­ empathy. And even when I talk to myself like someone I love and it feels weird, it works. I also love Neff's definition of common humanity as uniting us in our discomfort rather than pushing an "it's just me" worldview. Common humanity recognizes, she writes, "that suffering and per­ sonal inadequacy is part of the shared human experience­ something that we all go through rather than being something that happens to 'me' alone." This is one of the foundations of empathy and one of the linchpins of the Me Too movement. The more we practice these conversations of connection, the more we learn that we are all connected---in both the good things and the bad. Remember, empathy is the most powerful connecting and trust­ building tool that we have, and it's the antidote to shame. If you put shame in a petri dish and cover it with judgment, silence, and se­ crecy, you've created the perfect environment for shame to grow until it makes its way into every corner and crevice of your life. If, on the other hand, you put shame in a petri dish and douse it with em­ pathy, shame loses its power and begins to wither. Empathy creates a hostile environment for shame---an environment it can't survive in, because shame needs you to believe you're alone and it's just you. That's why there's so much power in: Oh, man. I feel you. I know that feeling and it sucks. Me too. I see you. You're not alone. I've been in a similar place and it's really hard. I think a lot of us experience that. Either we're all normal or we're all weird. Either way, it's not just you. I understand what that's like. EMPATHY AND SHAME RESILIENCE Now that we're building some understanding and skills around em­ pathy, let's examine the four elements of shame resilience. When we're in shame and we can share our story with someone who re­ sponds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive. 1. Recognizing Shame and Understanding Its Triggers Can you physically recognize when you're in the grip of shame, feel your way through it, and figure out what messages and expectations triggered it? Research participants with the highest levels of shame resilience can recognize the physical symptoms of shame---they know the physiology of it, and that's a huge cue to pay attention. My saying is, "When in shame, I don't talk, text, or type---I'm not fit for human consumption" until I get back on my emotional feet. When we have understanding and awareness around shame, we're less likely to default to our shame shields, or what Linda Hartling and her fellow researchers at the Stone Center at Welles­ ley call *strategies of disconnection:* Moving away: Withdrawing, hiding, silencing ourselves, and keeping secrets. Moving toward: Seeking to appease and please. Moving against: Trying to gain power over others by being aggressive, and by using shame to fight shame. Like all armor, these are appealing forms of self-protection, but they move us away from our authenticity and wholeheartedness. 2. Practicing Critical Awareness Shame works like the zoom lens on a camera. When we are feeling shame, the camera is zoomed in tight, and all we see is our flawed self, alone and struggling. We think, "I'm the only one. Something is wrong with me. I am alone." When we zoom out, we start to see a different picture. We see many people in the same struggle. Rather than thinking "I'm the only one," we start thinking "I can't believe it! You too? I'm nor­ mal? I thought it was just me!" Once we start to see the big pic­ ture, we are better able to reality-check our shame triggers and the social expectations that fuel shame. 3. Reaching Out One of the most important benefits of reaching out to others is learning that the experiences that make us feel the most alone are actually universal. Regardless of who we are, how we were raised, or what we believe, all of us fight hidden, silent battles against not being good enough and not belonging enough. When we find the courage to share our experiences and the compassion to hear oth­ ers tell their stories, we force shame out of hiding and end the si­ lence. When we don't reach out, we often end up in fear, blame, and disconnection. 4. Speaking Shame Shame derives its power from being unspeakable. That's why it loves perfectionists---it's so easy to keep us quiet. If we cultivate enough awareness about shame to name it and speak it, we've ba­ sically cut it off at the knees. Shame hates having words wrapped around it. If we speak shame, it begins to wither. Language and story bring light to shame and destroy it. When we don't talk about how we feel and ask for what we need, we often shut down, act out, or do both. Learning to speak shame also allows you to pick up on some of the subtle and even gaslighting language of shame. This is lan­ guage that is used to shame and to defend shaming when we're trying to explain how we feel and what we need. I'm now very cau­ tious when I hear things like: You're so sensitive. I didn't realize you were so fragile. I didn't realize that was such an issue for you. You're so defensive. I guess I'll have to watch what I say around you. It's all in your head. You seem really hostile. And I've totally banned words like *loser, lame,* and *weak.* I'm also not a fan of anything that's brutal, including honesty. Honesty is the best policy, but honesty that's motivated by shame, anger, fear, or hurt is not "honesty." It's shame, anger, fear, or hurt disguised as honesty. Just because something is accurate or factual doesn't mean it can't be used in a destructive manner: "Sorry. I'm just telling you the truth. These are just the facts." The big takeaway from this section is that empathy is at the heart of connection---it is the circuit board for leaning into the feelings of others, reflecting back a shared experience of the world, and reminding them that they are not alone. To be able to stand in discomfort with people who are processing shame, or hurt, or dis­ appointment, or hardship, and to be able to say to them "I see you, and I can hold space for this" is the epitome of courage. The best part is that empathy is not hardwired into our genetic code: We can learn it. And we need to, because as the poet June Jordan wrote, "We are the ones we have been waiting for."