Stop Being 'Nice' to Yourself

The best coach for one of the top high school softball players in the country drops F-bombs and threatens to kick her a$$. Her parents pay for this. Is this abusive?

I write regularly about headtrash: uninvited thoughts that harm our ability to be our best, most present selves. Disempowering beliefs, critical judgments about our past, and excessive spinning about the future.

Head trash takes away our power to be present, creative, curious, joyful, optimistic, empowered. And this is a problem because all we have is NOW. Headtrash robs us of our best in the present. It's a primary threat to our best life lived because it diminishes our confidence, peace, and sense of self-worth.

The Paradox of Harsh Feedback

My friend Peter, knowing headtrash is one of my themes, forwarded me a podcast. This one. It's really good. Definitely worth a listen. Part of the episode explores how elite athletes handle harsh feedback from coaches.

There's a paradox here, though. When is candid feedback critical for our development and when is it destructive? How do we judge whether seemingly-harsh feedback serves us or harms us? Asking this question openly right now as I write makes me think back to the healing retreat I attended a couple months ago where we were struck with 'loving' blows and Russian sticks. Could it be that feedback, regardless of how direct it is, can always be helpful when delivered with love? Is it the heart of the giver that makes the difference?

What is it that makes feedback inappropriate? When a coach swears at her players, is it abusive or helpful? At what point do we, as leaders, hurt our team by holding back feedback because it's ‘not nice’ or when we’re afraid stating something frankly will hurt someone’s feelings? Also, and probably worse, when is feedback we give ourselves just caustic headtrash?

Perhaps more importantly, how do we quiet our mind and heart and perform at our peak, like elite athletes do on the field? How do we BE and DO instead of wallowing in THINKING and FEELING too much?

When Harsh Works

In the podcast, Michael Lewis tells the story of his friend Larry's daughter. She's an elite high school softball player, one of the best in the country. She chose to play for a coach who, when mic'd up, is extremely direct. Very critical. Using the F-bomb constantly. Telling players not to be a piece of #@! and do the job right, or she's gonna "kick their a$$." Anyone overhearing would describe the language as more than just rude. Negative and abusive.

And yet, Larry's daughter insisted on playing for this coach. Why? Because she’s sadistic? Because she has a poor self-image and that coincides with the coach’s abuse? It doesn’t seem so.

Aren’t we supposed to be kind to ourselves? Talk to ourselves like we would a dear friend?

Michael Lewis shared something I'd never considered before about what to do with harsh feedback. Sometimes it’s super useful. We need to know the truth about what needs work. Good coaches help us see that. But here's the key: let the feedback in, let it have its impact, and then mute it. Don't let it echo in your mind over and over, becoming a self-defeating loop. Receive it, account for it, then move on.

A few days ago I had a conversation with my friend Tiffany Rosenbaum about these questions. It was one of the best conversations I think I've ever had on the topic (check out 29:30 for 60 seconds; Check out 36:32 for 3 minutes).

Also, Daniel Gutierrez and I had a fascinating conversation about this last week (listen from 6:10). It left me wondering who we are serving when we lower our standards to be 'nice'. How do we do treat ourselves and others with kindness and respect and also NOT enable mediocrity? Should we fire everyone who ‘can’t handle the truth’ and hire people hard-wired for it?

Good coaches help their players see what needs attention. Often they bring the message with intensity. This enables the players to see the gaps in real time. The feedback has the potential to become headtrash but the best players don’t let that happen. If the feedback, however well-intended, joins a chorus of self-deprecating thoughts attacking our self-worth or overly managing performance, it's detrimental. If it is received, accounted for, then moved out of the headtrash spin/loop, if it doesn't attach to our childhood wounds and our anxiety about the future… it serves us well. It's what we do with the feedback that turns it from help to hurt.

Becoming the Watcher

Take a more extreme example: haters. People who criticize us with the intent to harm, to tear us down. Even their feedback can be useful if we can extract the information without absorbing the poison. If we can separate their negative intent from any truth contained in their message. This short video explores this idea brilliantly.

This requires us to become like watchers on a rock next to a river. Thoughts and feelings flow past us like water. They come and go. We are not our thoughts and feelings just as we are not water flowing in a river. We can't be our best selves if we're in the river being pushed around by the current. Often the more attention we give them, the larger they become.

Instead, we must realize we are the watcher on a firm rock near the river, looking down, noticing with curiosity what these currents are telling us, but not giving them more attention or energy than they deserve. We are presence and being. Remaining separate from the river gives us the healthy connection with self and God we need to be at our best.

Three Moments That Changed Me

I've experienced this paradox personally, multiple times in my life.

About 25 years ago, my older brother saw me making decisions he questioned. He wrote me a note quoting scripture: 'A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.' It was hard to hear. I've never forgotten it. It still comes to mind regularly as a call to greater honesty and intentional living. It stung when I first read it. I’d be lying it I didn’t say I was a bit offended.

Five years later, I met with my church leader to discuss some spiritual struggles. He paused, looked directly at me, and said, 'Well, Mark, we both know the words to say.' What?! I bristled at the implication I wasn’t sincere in every way. But was I? I leaned into the idea I might be engaged in self-deception. That moment struck me harder than any lengthy sermon could have. I was incensed, but later transformed by it. I still roll it through my head and heart now. It is still changing me.

More recently, when I started working with my current therapist, he warned me in our onboarding meeting that occasionally ‘I will punch you in the throat.' I leaned in. I wanted that. Not because I’m sadistic, but because I know the price of transformation. Not long after he questioned a significant choice I'd made. I showed up to the next session with a presentation on poster board with deep analysis. His challenge sparked curiosity and reflection after the initial defensiveness…

What feedback moments in your life first brought pain but became transformative? What about YOU allowed it to be so? What shifted the path from resentment to curious reflection? How do we help others make the same shift? Or is it all their responsibility?

Am I overly managing how I give feedback to others? Am I cheating them from the same transformations I’ve experienced? Steve ZoBell at Second Nature had a great post recently about this. In his reply to my comment he said:

In the next issue, I'll explore how elite performers manage feedback and BEING. How they shift from forceful striving to fluid presence. How they quiet the manager self and unleash the doer self.

For now, hit me back with your questions, the answers you have found so far, and how you balance both with yourself and your team holding high standards, clear feedback and ‘healthy culture’.