The Anne Show

You-Statement Antidote

When someone uses a you-statement, consciously or unconsciously, the intent is usually to control the other person. Attempting to control another person inadvertently creates a conflict, an I vs. you situation.

Conflict resolution techniques can be of value when one is either attempting to examine one's own use of you-statements or relating to someone else who uses them.

One conflict resolution technique involves rewording you-statements into "I-statements"--statements that use "I" as the subject. This lets the speaker take responsibility for his or her feelings rather than assigning them to another or attributing their cause to another.

This is a form that has worked for me:

"I feel _____ when you _____, I need _____, and I would like to request that you _____."

To fill in the blanks: "I feel this feeling when you do or say this specific thing, I need this condition to exist to continue to feel related to you or okay about myself, and I would like to request that you do this one specific thing that would help meet my needs."

Here are some examples:

You-statement: "You'll love it!"

Simple rewording as an I-statement: "I will love it if you end up liking how we've painted our walls!"

You-statement: "You make me angry!"

Reworded as an I-statement using the conflict resolution form: "I feel angry when you shout at me, I need to feel that you are trying to work with me rather than overpower me, and I would like to request that you use a speaking voice when talking with me."

You-statement: "You shouldn't think that."

Reworded as an I-statement: "I feel uneasy when you express thoughts like that. I need to know that we're still connected even when you're telling me your thoughts, and I would like to request that you reassure me that we're still together as you tell me these things."

And, finally:

You-statement: "You shouldn't use you-statements."

Reworded as an I-statement: "I feel wary when you use you-statements, I need to feel that you respect me as an equal, and I'd like to request that you use I-statements to tell me what you're thinking and feeling, rather than you-statements that feel like you're trying to tell me what to think and feel."

You-Statements

"You'll love it!"

The speaker usually believes this sentence is uttered with the best of intentions.

But it's a direct order.

The motivation behind a "you-statement"--a statement using "you" as the subject such as "You make me angry!" or "You shouldn't think that way"--is almost always control. 

Translation of a you-statement is often this simple:  "I want you to _______," where the blank is filled in by the action the speaker perceives will meet a need or want, or relieve an uncomfortable feeling.  By using a you-statement, the speaker attempts to control what another thinks, feels, or does.

I used a you-statement yesterday. I'm not proud of it, but here goes:

I briefly visited a woman with whom I was very close in my teenage and young adult years. She has many challenges in her life. I visit her--or anyone--rarely these days because I am so engrossed in my own precious life, but also because our conversations center primarily on her challenges, most of which are heavy, over most of which she has little control.

When she said she'd like to come over and see my newly painted house, I said, "You'll love it!"

Translation:

I want you to love it.

I want you to feel delight when you see the orange, blue, and raspberry walls because I want you to feel some joy.

I feel so sad about your challenges and so helpless to do anything for you or about them.

Part of my self-measure of self-worth, unhealthily, is based on my perception of my value to you. If I can do something you value, then I am of value.

I know you want me to just listen. I know if you talk you'll feel unburdened.

But I feel burdened and distressed by listening.

I want you to want what I want to offer--bright walls--rather than what you want to receive--time to be heard.

I feel guilty that I don't want to give you what you want to receive.

I feel diminished self-worth that I can't be of value to you in the way I have to offer.

To relieve me of that feeling about your feelings, I want you to feel what I would feel more comfortable with--pleasure in my new house--rather than what I sense you do feel--disappointment that I won't sit and listen.

"You'll love it."

Please feel that instead of what you do feel so I won't have to feel the uncomfortable feelings I feel.

Energy

I have been noted for my energy.

A recent boss asked one afternoon, "How many cups of coffee have you had today?"

None. A pot of tea in the morning. It's not about caffeine.

When I was in graduate school working on a master's degree in counseling, one of my instructors described temperament in this way: If a thunderstorm passes over a hospital nursery full of infants, some will scream, some will listen, and some will sleep right through it.

That's temperament, then, the tendency one is born with to react to stimulation in one's environment in a particular way.

I think I was born with a reactive temperament.

I add to that being conceived and carried in a womb awash in caffeine, nicotine, and adrenalin.

I can imagine my central nervous system forming in a bath of stimulants as a sort of electrical channel that variably chugs along like the electrons in the cord to my desk lamp, collects voltage like a van de Graaff generator, or fires like a storm-severed power line.

What it's mostly felt like to be me is a hair dryer. When I'm on, my inner structure feels set on high, hot, noisy, dangerously close to dropping in the filled bathtub and electrocuting everybody, capable of creating warm, luxuriant beauty.

When the switch is flipped or the plug is pulled, either by my inner power plant or by external forces, I'm full of potential energy. But I'm off.

One of my early bosses said, "Would you please sit down!"

At this point in my life, the nature vs. nurture question is important to me: What was I born with and can't change, and what resulted from my experience that I can change?

To me, answers to that question, even partial answers, help me answer this question: "I want to live a life that works for me, for my loved ones, for my community, for the world. What is unchangeable that becomes my responsibility to manage, and what is changeable that I truly can alter such that I can do things in ways that work better?"

I heard a man at a workshop say that people most want to know and be known, to love and be loved, to touch and be touched.

That's an exquisite summary of what I want, too.

Some of my traits, like energy--whether of nature or nurture--have interfered with my ability to meet those deepest longings.

Managing unruly traits asks me to

• become aware of what I do and what the consequences are
• identify skills that manage the traits, thus potentially limiting the unsavory consequences
• practice the skills
• soothe myself when my skills aren't what I needed or wanted them to be.

The soul-searching required to "become aware" is tough and continues to be. Negotiating the inner dialogue that begins with "Things shouldn't be this way!" and follows with "People should love me just the way I am!" has required patience. Figuring out what skills will work and practicing them is like anything new--it requires the courage to be and look awkward.

I have had spectacular help from individuals and groups and books on all these things.

An example of my energy? I think of one billion things to say per nanosecond.

Shockingly, not all of it is fascinating. And if I speak it, people I want to be close to experience it as a barrage, as an overwhelming wave in which they could drown. I want to share who I am and be close, but what I do is drive people away. They want a turn to speak, too.

How do I manage this? I become aware of the love and regard I feel for the person I'm with and I observe silence.

What do I do with what I didn't say? I ask myself what Ernest Hemingway reportedly asked himself in front of each blank page: What's the most important thing in the whole world for me to write about? And then I write it.