Pausing to process
Some years ago, when one of my daughters was about four years old, she was on the verge of a tantrum in the kitchen. I don’t remember the exact cause. I just recall her stomping in frustration and scrunching up her face as the lower lip puffed and protruded with the gradual intensification of her grief. I was desperate to avoid another meltdown, so I took immediate steps to forestall it.
I tried to engage her directly, asking what was wrong, but she refused to talk to me, and the runaway emotional train continued to pick up steam.
I immediately pivoted, grabbing an erasable marker and writing “Are you mad?” on the magnetic whiteboard attached to our fridge. She peeked through the fingers covering her face, read my question, and nodded her head.
Jumping through this slender window of opportunity, I jotted down another question: “Are you sad?” She nodded her head again.
I sensed it was a turning point, so I went in for the closer, scribbling, “Want a hug?” She nodded her head, we embraced, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the storm clouds cleared from the sky.
I’ve been thinking about that moment as many of us live through this disorienting pace of change. Toddlers experience a version of what frustrates us later in life as well. In these periods of dramatic upheaval, part of our stress comes from not having taken the time to recognize and label our emotional reality. Instinct overrides understanding in our push to power through the hailstorm of to-dos.
The US military is famous for codifying the importance of pausing, detaching, and reflecting. Following training exercises, After Action Reviews examine the goals, the outcome, and the reasons for any distance between the two. Between deployments, military teams systematically examine what they gleaned from unexpected developments.
It’s difficult to replicate these rituals in civilian life, which seems more unrelenting and less interval-based. But the need to pause is equally vital, and increasingly so.
Instead of a traditional meeting agenda focused on execution priorities, this might be a time for creating space to sharpen your self-awareness as a team. It might be the moment to notice and objectively describe what people are experiencing. For children and adults alike, naming the monsters in our heads is an important part of re-establishing a sense of control in the face of confusion.
Whiteboards work pretty well for grown-ups, too.