Life Is a Contact Sport: 3 Tips to Avoid Getting Hurt

For the past few weeks, one phrase keeps popping up in my brain: Life is a contact sport. I’ve been feeling a lot of “contact” from all directions lately. Since “normal” daily life now is pretty darn intense—and the political unrest is only heightening the intensity—I think we’re all feeling more sensitive and vulnerable than usual. I’m probably not the only one regularly nursing a few bumps and bruises. Question is, can we learn something from the injuries we’re sustaining?

Before answering that question, let’s come back to the idea that life is a contact sport. As we encounter myriad different—even polarized—people and perspectives every day, it’s inevitable that we’ll sometimes collide and bang shins. We might even get body-slammed along the way. (Not literally, of course. Like most scrapes, my contusions have been emotional, not physical, in nature. That doesn’t make them any less painful.)

I’m going to give you a recent example from my own life. But before I share it, I’ll admit that I’m slightly mortified to tell you about what amounts to a communications “failure.” As a professional coach, aren’t I supposed to be a pro at navigating tricky conversations? I’ll just leave it at this: practice makes perfect!

Back to the example. Last week, I offered to make a meal to celebrate a friend’s birthday. I’ll call him Steve. I planned the perfect menu, bought groceries, and cooked up a storm. All Steve had to do was show up at the appointed time. Problem was, unbeknownst to me, Steve wanted to have an entirely free-form day. To him, a pre-scheduled dinner felt like a burden. When he finally did show up, resentful and late, you can imagine my surprise.

This unpleasant incident highlighted issues that I’ve seen crop up time and again as I coach leadership and culture clients. So many problems—both in business and in our personal lives—could be avoided if we could just be curious, listen brightly, and embrace deep empathy. Here’s how I used all three tools to get through this scuttle with Steve so we could emerge with our egos, and our friendship, intact.

Curiosity. After the dinnertime dust-up, I wanted to understand how my intended generosity came off as selfishness. When I called Steve the next morning, I started the conversation with these magical words: “Help me understand …” I genuinely wanted to know what Steve was thinking, what he had experienced the previous evening, and what he felt were the “facts” about the situation. Maintaining a curious mindset allowed me to tamp down some of my hurt feelings and be a little more objective about what he had to say.

Bright listening. As he shared his perspective, I practiced “bright listening,” which I’ve written about in a previous post (and shared three practice activities). Essentially, I tried to adopt an “other-centered” focus and maintain a clear intention of hearing not just what Steve was saying but also why he was saying it. I reminded myself that intentional listening is the opposite of “waiting for your turn to speak.” When Steve was done, I simply asked, “Would you like to hear how it was for me?” He did.

Deep empathy. During the call, I came to understand my buddy on a deeper level. He grew up in a rigid, highly structured environment, so a completely unplanned birthday was the greatest gift he could give himself. Now it made sense that he’d be thrown by my dinner planning. For my part, I realized the events were taking me back to a painful moment as a child when I was left out—inadvertently—of an extended family dinner gathering. Turns out Steve and I both had plenty of unspoken conversations going on in our own head. Neither of us could possibly know what other memories and associations were upending our best intentions.

Of course, having a difficult conversation with a dear friend is entirely different than tackling one with a work colleague. It takes real courage to try to unpack a problem or a miscommunication. These days, when we’re all frazzled and frayed just from getting through the day, such an act of bravery can feel like too much.

But resentment, judgment, defensiveness, and anger don’t live rent-free in your brain or your heart. In fact, the cost is steep, and you risk paying for it with broken or damaged relationships (at work and at home) and lingering hurt and frustration.

So, as someone who’s still tending to a few bruises, here’s my advice. The next time you find yourself unexpectedly or unwillingly participating in a contact sport, pause. Take a breath. Get curious, and listen to what’s being said—and what’s not said. Imagine how life looks from someone else’s perspective. When you do, you may find that you’re already wearing just the protective padding you need.

Need help figuring out how you and your team can communicate, collaborate, and connect? Get in touch.