Dedication: To my partner, Jason. While he gave me the gift of traveling for two weeks, he juggled our two-to-four kids (depending on the day), first days of school, and commutes to four different drop-offs and pick-ups. On top of that, he last-minute traveled to be with his mother as she suddenly passed away from cancer.
My family stepped in to help with the kids, between my parents, my brother, and sister-in-law. I am very grateful to all of them, and hope to do more than just return the favor.
Stunning—is the cinematography—of my favorite movie, Pride and Prejudice starring Keira Knightley. One scene starts behind Keira’s closed eyelids, as dappled sunlight flickers across her resting on a horse-drawn carriage, jostling through the woods during a serenely sunny day. I love that scene because I can feel it—it’s me, in bliss, with the gentle warmth of sunlight scattering across my face.
I had that same kind of tranquility about eight years ago, seated outside at Ballard Coffee Works. Complete harmony with the late-spring day, my chai, and just a week earlier, being broken up with by the most compatible man I had met in over 300 first dates.
Alert and reflective, I sat with fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready to type him an email. I had waited a week to let my emotions settle, but I wanted to offer feedback from the heart. I cared about his future well-being, and for anyone he might date next. I believed he was about to cycle back into the unhealthy patterns I felt were holding him captive, and that had ultimately ended us.
I wanted him to grow. Not for me. Not to be with me. But for the universe. I felt sad for the universe that he had not yet grown into the person I believed him capable of being. So, I wanted to do what I could to plant a seed. And hope that one spring, it might bloom. Whether or not I got to bear witness.
I felt contentment once I hit send, like slapping my hands together signaling the job was done. Not only had I spoken my truth, but I had spoken it with love and could now let it go. I knew him the type of person who could handle constructive feedback, so I had no fear of a negative response. However, I didn’t expect any response; it wasn’t the point.
I’ve always been compelled to provide feedback1. In a sense, it feels like a calling. Even as a child, I challenged authority when I felt feedback was warranted. Early successes in driving change gave me confidence.
Quality feedback hinges on two key elements: genuine motivation to help and delivering it without ego. True care for the person, organization, or future well-being of others must drive the feedback, as people often sense when intentions aren’t sincere. Without ego means offering feedback without feeling superior. Before my divorce, I’m certain nearly all my feedback carried traces of self-righteousness (and in some cases, heaping scoops). When delivered from a pedestal, even subtly, feedback may still ‘work,’ but it’s more likely to hit the other person’s ego instead of being heard.
I’m still not a perfect feedback provider. Sometimes I provide feedback prior to letting all emotions settle and I’m challenged by tailoring my direct communication style to different types of receivers. But I am certain of my motivation, and while eliminating ego is extremely challenging, I do as well as I can to limit it.
Even after giving feedback countless times, I still hesitate each time: Must I say something? Wouldn’t it be easier to stay quiet? What if it makes the situation worse? Yet, whenever I finally speak up, nine times out of ten, the response is positive—often grateful. It sparks a healthy discussion, deepening the relationship and making things more human.
Of course, the pause in deciding to give feedback stems from the anticipation of the tenth person’s reaction. No matter how carefully you frame the message, with the right motivation and no ego, it still collides with their ego and so is immediately rejected, sometimes furiously.
Recently, while hesitating to give feedback, I realized something important: I’ve never regretted speaking up, no matter the immediate reaction. There’s peace in releasing your truth into the universe. More importantly, even if the initial response is negative, it plants a seed that may bloom later, nurtured by life experiences and future feedback. And I’ve witnessed enough of those initially sour responses turn positive, even years later.
Feedback is a powerful gift, it’s free to give, and it can change someone’s life or make a difference.
That thing you’ve been thinking about saying? You should say it. You should give the gift of feedback.
After sending that email from Ballard Coffee Works to my ex, I gently moved on with my life, enjoying the summer. Three months later, a surprise response hit my inbox.
This September, we’re celebrating eight years back together.
Thank you, Jason, for being as open-minded and committed to change as you are, and for showing me what it means to love someone so completely, despite the curve balls I throw at you.
And thanks for always being open to feedback.
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Not all feedback is right of course! From me, given to me, or given to you. When I receive feedback, I try to quiet my ego and let the words through. I always give it consideration, sometimes for weeks, years even! If it turns out to be valid, I work on how to make a change. But sometimes, no matter how much I rotate the puzzle piece, it simply doesn’t fit. Feedback can be offered with ill intent, from someone lacking context, or from someone slightly to severely off-base. Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide its validity for you.
Love your thoughts, as always.
Feedback is a gift and boy are you a generous gift giver! As you’re eluding to, you’re always sharing feedback with care and with the best intentions.
Someone asked me if I would prefer you to sometimes hold back thoughts. I said no, I like always knowing where you stand. Your transparency is also a gift to me. You’re not one to hold anything back, it would be against your grain. You’d be a terrible poker player! But to me, it’s a wonderful trait of yours, genuine and connectable. It allows me to see you for you and all the beauty within you. I love the way you think and the way you process the world. We are always changing and I appreciate being the first to know how you’re changing.
I love you and being your partner. The past eight years have been a gift, along with our creations. I’ll continue to choose you, all day. It’s all a journey and it’s a gift to do it with you.
This is such a helpful reframe! I am usually holding back and quietly seething, but I'm trying to learn how to speak up more.