Fear is an emotion people like to feel when they know they’re safe.
Alfred Hitchcock1
Recently, I spent a couple of days training at a company in West Chester, Ohio. During the night, a major thunderstorm hit. The lightning never stopped, and the thunder rattled the walls of the hotel. I love these types of storms and hadn’t experienced one like that since I lived in Phoenix.
The next morning, the storm was quite a topic of discussion among the class participants. One woman told me it was the craziest storm she had seen in the past twenty years. Other people remarked how they thought it might have been a tornado in the making and how they had tried to decide if they should go to the basement and take cover.
Someone said, “You live in Southern California, right? So that must have been pretty scary for you.” Before I could respond, another person said, “But you have earthquakes. These storms must be nothing compared to an earthquake. How can you stand to live there?”
I replied, “Actually, I’d rather have an earthquake than a tornado or hurricane. With a tornado, you have anticipation. You worry about how close it will get and how bad it will be. With an earthquake, you don’t know when it’s coming. When it hits, it takes a couple of seconds to realize what’s happening. By the time you figure it out, it’s usually over. If you’re still alive, you’re good to go.”
Alfred Hitchcock, the film director called “the master of suspense,” said, “Suspense and terror cannot coexist.”2 Suspense builds slowly, whereas terror is immediate and unexpected. In his movies, he would build scenes in which viewers sensed something bad was coming, so when it finally happened, it was expected. That’s suspense.
Terror, on the other hand, happens when something jumps out of the shadows with no warning and takes our breath away. There’s no suspense, just shock. If Hitchcock’s audience felt suspense, the element of surprise was gone—so there was no terror.
Hurricanes are suspense. Earthquakes are terror.
Hitchcock capitalized on people’s fear. He wrote, “Millions of people every day spend huge sums of money and go to great hardship merely to enjoy fear. . . . The boy who walks a tightrope or tiptoes along the top of a picket fence is looking for fear, as are the auto racer, the mountain climber, and the big-game hunter.”3
Relationship Suspense versus Relationship Terror
Fear isn’t found only in Hollywood. Fear impacts everyday relationships as well. When we know our boss believes in us, we can handle the tough conversations when they come. When we fear our job is in jeopardy or that our boss doesn’t support us, we lack confidence when conflicts arise.
Every relationship experiences moments of “terror.” Unexpected events happen—job losses, family crises, illnesses, accidents, financial issues—and they threaten to destroy our equilibrium. They test the relationship to the limit, showing what that relationship is really made of. These events don’t discriminate; they appear in the healthiest and the unhealthiest relationships.
Some relationships are characterized by “suspense.” Communication is strained, and both people feel like they’re walking on eggshells. They’re afraid to bring up tough issues because they’re afraid the other person might explode, withdraw, get defensive, or leave. The relationship isn’t safe. There’s no confidence in the long-term commitment to the relationship.
Other relationships are considered “safe.” These people have healthy ways of communicating and are convinced that the other person has their best interests in mind. They don’t like tough conversations but are willing to have them when necessary. There’s confidence in the commitment each person has to the relationship and to each other, which provides a foundation for deep, honest interaction.
When terror events hit a suspense relationship, they tend to drive a wedge between two people. They don’t have the commitment to each other to face the event together, so they each take their best shot at it alone. That drives them apart, because they let the event get between them and push them away from each other. Effective communication disappears.
When terror events hit a safe relationship, they tend to draw two people closer together. They have the commitment to work on the issue as a team. They put the issue outside of them so it pushes them together rather than driving them apart.
We all formed our perspective about safety when we were young. We didn’t get to pick our parents, our socioeconomic level, or our location. We didn’t have any choice about what kind of discipline we received, whether we were nurtured or not, and what tools we were given for negotiating life. We inherited our environment and the people who came with it.
In that dependent state, we were at the mercy of other people. If we sensed that those people were trustworthy, we formed an impression that the world was a safe place. If we got mixed messages from those people, we sensed that the world was a place for suspicion.
Those impressions provided our earliest tools for handling life—tools we will use the rest of our lives. Those impressions also established our default setting for how we view other people. If we sensed in those early days that people were trustworthy, our default setting as adults will probably be one of trust (until the other person proves otherwise). If we grew up thinking that people were not trustworthy, we will probably view most people we meet with suspicion rather than trust. Whatever tools we acquired are the tools we learned to use. That’s why so many people say, “I can’t change; that’s just the way I am.”
But people can change. It might not be easy, but it’s possible. No matter how we’ve viewed people in the past, we can choose to see them differently. We start by recognizing what our default setting is from the past, then deciding how to respond differently.
The default setting will always be there, but we can learn to work around it. A computer has a motherboard that runs the operating system for that machine, but the computer can also use software. In the same way, we’ll always have the same basic hardware, but we can run different software to make us respond in new ways.
This is an important issue to consider, because every person has a basic need for safety. When it’s present in a relationship, everything else is possible. When it’s missing, everything else is challenging. Safety provides the foundation that makes a relationship work.
My friend Jim is a structural engineer. When a city decides to build a skyscraper, they hire Jim to do all the work that takes place underground. He makes sure the foundation is absolutely solid, taking into consideration all the characteristics of the earth in which they build. He’s the ultimate professional, and contractors trust him. They know that if Jim is responsible for the foundation, they can build fifty or sixty stories without worrying about what will happen. Once the building is finished, no one ever sees his work or even thinks about it. But the solid foundation makes everything possible that happens above the ground.
When we’re not sure if our relationship is safe and secure, our conversations become a lot more challenging. When that foundation is solid, we can connect without concern.
How We Grow Safety
I was talking to a utility meter reader a few years ago about dogs. He has spent years entering people’s yards and had a list of notes about animals at every house he visits—what kind, whether they are locked up, and if there are any issues related to the dog. He also carries a stick with a rubber ball at the end and has been trained in how to use it to distract a dog if it becomes vicious.
I said, “Have you ever been bitten?”
He said, “Yeah, a few times. But every time it was a little dog. And a few times, it happened right after the homeowner said, ‘He’s harmless. He doesn’t bite.’ Then it would clamp onto my leg.”
He said that because of his training he isn’t afraid of dogs, but he always approaches them cautiously. He assumes each one will bite. After he has a number of encounters with the same dog, he learns if he can trust it or not. He starts with a lens of “vicious” until the dog proves otherwise—at which time he changes his lens to “safe.”
In every new relationship, we decide if it’s safe or not. Once we decide, that becomes the lens through which we see the relationship. From that point on, we assume the lens is accurate.
If we decide a person is trustworthy, we give them the benefit of the doubt when they mess up. We believe it was a mistake or a poor choice made by a good person. “They didn’t mean to do that,” we say to ourselves. It’s only when they start messing up consistently that we question our lens.
If we decide a person is not trustworthy, we’re suspicious of anything they do or say. We question their motives. “They’re just trying to make me think they’ve changed. But it won’t work.” We’ll risk trusting them only after we see consistency in their actions.
To make relationships more complicated, it takes only one major action to break trust with someone, but it takes multiple actions to gain trust again. It’s not enough to say, “I’m sorry” when we mess up, though that’s the obvious first step. We have to build trust back, and that happens over time through repeated positive actions.
If we want to build safety into a relationship, we need to be intentional about doing the positive things that demonstrate commitment and consistency. The other person has to see that we’re serious about making the relationship a priority.
How to Make People Feel Safe
The problem with earthquakes is that we’ve learned to count on the ground not moving. When it moves, it messes with our security. When the thing we’ve come to trust gives way, it’s unsettling. We don’t feel safe.
What does “safe” look like in a relationship? A relationship is safe when people have their needs met by the other person.
We all want to be loved, affirmed, valued, and secure. Even when those needs aren’t met, they’re still there. If other people don’t value us, we find other ways to get their attention.
When I was in high school, I went through the insecurity that many kids go through when they’re trying to find their way into adulthood. I wanted people to like me, but I didn’t value myself. So I tried to do things to make people like me. I started working at jobs that nobody else did so people would look up to me. I worked in a morgue at a county hospital, sold musical instruments, did offset printing, became a radio announcer, and did wedding photography. People were impressed, but it didn’t make me feel better. I got a lot of attention for those things, but I felt like people were only impressed with my actions, not with me.
Here’s the problem: If everybody is trying to get their needs met, we’re all in a taking mode. We want other people to meet those needs for us. But if everybody is taking and nobody is giving, the entire process spirals downward.
Learning to focus on the needs of others doesn’t mean we give up our own needs and become a doormat. It simply means we’re intentional about making others feel valued. If we do that, we’re helping them find safety at the most basic level. When that need is met, they are free to begin doing the same in return. The result? A foundation is formed for handling tough conversations.
That doesn’t mean we manipulate others so they’ll meet our needs. We have to have a genuine desire to help someone because we care about them. We can’t guarantee how they’ll respond, but it puts us in a different mind-set that focuses on giving instead of taking.
What can we do to make others feel safe?
Safety grows when the other person feels that we’re genuine in our concern and care for them. One of the best ways to do that is through intentional listening (something we’ll cover in an upcoming chapter).
Most people listen to others casually, using their words as a springboard for the next thing they want to say. But the best listeners don’t move on to other topics quickly; they explore what the other person has said.
During a conversation, the other person says, “They never listen to me at work. I feel like I’m invisible.” A typical response might be, “Yeah, that’s happened to me before. I remember one time when . . .” When that happens, we’re not listening anymore; we’re telling stories about ourselves.
A better response is to stop and draw them out: “When you say you feel invisible, what does that look like? What have people said or done that makes you feel that way?” This level of attention lets the other person know we care enough to explore. We value them and want to look through their eyes to see what they see. We’re not trying to fix the situation; we’re just coming alongside them in their journey.
We Control Our Responses
When we explode at people or get defensive during tough conversations, the relationship feels unsafe. The emotion isn’t the problem, because it’s real. The problem is how we express the emotion. Verbally attacking another person makes them feel threatened, not safe. They feel like we’re critiquing them instead of the issue.
We can express emotion, but we need to do so with honesty and control. Instead of saying, “You’re so stupid. How could you do such a thing?” we might say, “I feel really angry and hurt when you do that. I feel like it’s hard to trust you.” Uncontrolled emotion during conflict is like pouring gasoline on a fire. It only escalates the conflict. The conflict is the problem, but we make it worse by our approach.
If a spouse or boss is exploding or venting, they stop effective conversation. It’s tempting to try to address their style during the confrontation, but that’s using logic when someone is emotional. We might have that conversation, but it needs to happen later when everyone is relaxed—not during the emotion of the battle. That’s when we could say, “Can we talk about what happened the other day? I really want to make sure we can be honest with each other about tough issues. But I think there’s something that might be getting in the way. Can we explore it?” Then we can discuss perspectives rather than getting defensive and attacking each other.
We Clarify Expectations
Your boss says, “I need you to set up a meeting for me with Phil at noon tomorrow.” So you call Phil and arrange for him to meet in your boss’s office at noon.
When your boss finds out, he says, “I wanted a lunch meeting, not a meeting in my office. It’s at noon; that’s lunchtime. You’d think that would be obvious.”
Did you do what your boss asked? Yes. Was your boss happy? No.
Sure, the boss should have been more clear. But he wasn’t, and you did exactly what was asked. The misunderstanding came because the expectations were unclear.
It’s easy to assume the boss was at fault and should have been clearer. But we can’t control what the boss does. Instead, we need to take the initiative when the assignment is given to clarify those expectations. “Okay, I’ll set up a noon meeting. Where would you like to meet? How long is the meeting for? Does he need to do anything to prepare for the meeting?”
It would be nice if everyone was always clear in describing their expectations. But in any relationship, we can only control what we do. If we take the time up front to do the clarification ourselves, we’ll save ourselves a lot of potential grief in the future.
We Accept Their Faults
Nobody’s perfect, including us. It’s easy to be irritated when people do things differently than we would do them, especially when we “know” we’re right. But people find safety in a relationship when they know their actions are separated from their value as a person. If they know we accept them for who they are even when they mess up, they feel the safety they need to make the relationship work.
Your husband surprises you by planning dinner. He’s not the greatest cook, but he finds a killer recipe to try. The results are . . . well, less than stellar. What do you say?
If you both know the dinner didn’t turn out well, admit it. But do it in a way that’s honest about both the food and your spouse. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you went to the effort to plan this all out. I know you’re not happy with the way it turned out. But it’s not about the food. It’s about spending time with you. Thanks.”
Faults can’t be overlooked because they’re real and obvious. But they don’t define the other person. Relationships are built on honesty between two imperfect people. When we try to make the other person perfect or force them to fit into our image of what they should be like, we sabotage the growth of the relationship.
We Build Boundaries in Our Relationships
As Robert Frost wrote, “Good fences make good neighbors.” We might trust the person living next to us, so we don’t put up a fence. But when their crabgrass starts to sneak over onto our side of the lawn, we end up dealing with emotional issues. A fence isn’t a sign of mistrust; it’s a tool for keeping relationships healthy.
When we have a relationship with someone we care about, we protect the relationship from outside forces that might drive us apart. We keep each other’s secrets. We don’t discuss sensitive issues in public. We don’t talk to others to build support when we’re irritated with the other person. We talk to them, not others.
When to Fasten Our Seat Belts
When a plane encounters turbulence, the pilot tells the passengers to put on their seat belts. I’ve noticed that few people actually do it. After all, it’s just a little bumpy, not roller-coaster wild.
But as soon as the plane takes a nosedive, the first thing people do is fasten their seat belts. The instructions from the pilot weren’t enough, because the problem didn’t seem that severe. But when people feel like they’re in danger, they start taking precautions.
The longer any relationship continues, the more turbulence the people involved will encounter. There will be major bumps along the way. It’s just part of the relationship growing. When those bumps happen, we start looking for solutions. We want to fix the issues, but they’ve become bigger than we can handle.
The time to put on the seat belt is at the beginning of the flight, not when the turbulence hits. It provides a sense of safety that comes from being prepared.
When people feel safe in a relationship, they have the foundation for handling the turbulence. Safety provides an environment in which long-term growth and maturity can occur. It prepares people for the storm.
Want to feel safe? Now is the time to fasten our seat belts.