Cooler weather means that I can finally get off the concrete jogging trail and return to the wooded trails I prefer. I haven’t seen these wooded trails since early spring when my fear of tripping over a snake forced me onto the concrete path. Even though I’ve seldom seen an actual snake on the wooded trail, I know they are out there, and every stick and root along the trail looks like a snake to me. Seeing “snakes” everywhere along the trail prevents me from putting one foot in front of the other.
It’s a lot like that with interpersonal communication. As we have previously discussed, human communication is fundamentally imperfect. Misunderstandings, mistakes, slips, confusion, and faux pas happen when people interact, and it’s prudent—and pragmatic—to forgive and forget all but the most egregious of these errors to keep our interactions fluid and functional.
The trouble is that the Neanderthal part of our brain is highly alert for threats in our environment. The same instinct that causes us to see a snake where there is only a stick also leads us to see interpersonal threats where there are only harmless conversational imperfections. So we frequently overreact to awkward conversations (What am I doing wrong? I don’t think he likes me), we routinely read too much into confusing interactions (Uh oh. What’s the boss really trying to tell me?), and we are often too quick to assume sinister intentions when people make honest conversational mistakes (I knew it. She’s out to get me).
But most people aren’t out to get us. Confusion happens all the time when people communicate, and interactions are awkward for all kinds of benign reasons. If we let the Neanderthal part of our brain take charge whenever an interaction feels confusing or awkward, or whenever someone makes a mistake, imperfect communication will deliver an endless supply of sticks disguised as snakes for us to overreact to. These conversational false positives are exhausting, and our (over)reactions to them can easily cause real relational damage.
The solution is to assume the good intentions of others as your default interpersonal position. You don’t need the Neanderthal’s hyper-vigilance because conversational threats that aren’t harmless will quickly come back to you. Instead, rely on the more modern part of your brain to let go of conversational false positives. Then, you and the people you care about can thrive in spite of the imperfections that are endemic to human communication.
Stop looking for snakes and start overlooking conversational imperfections. That’s how we can keep our interactions—imperfect though they may be—enjoyable, fulfilling, and more likely to be meaningful.
Originally posted on mouthpeaceconsulting.com.