Challenging Communication
The Layers Underneath Words
This essays continues the exploration of Invisible Disability by looking at what happens beneath the surface when we try to communicate sensitive needs, especially when those needs challenge social norms around energy, presence or pace.
A simple conversation around rescheduling plans, saying no to overstimulation or asking for something different, can quickly become emotionally charged. Reactions may be stirred in the person we’re speaking to, as well as in ourselves. What seemed small and straightforward becomes layered with cultural pressure, personal sensitivity and invisible stories on both sides.
In my personal experience, and in mentoring others with high sensitivity, chronic pain or fluctuating energy, these subtle dynamics between self and other surface again and again. Even a gentle request can land in surprising ways. It might brush against someone else’s expectations, or awaken our own swirls of guilt, shame or frustration.
As a Qi Gong and movement teacher, I see how our experience never exists in isolation. Our (dis)abilities, needs and rhythms are part of a continuous feedback loop with the world around us. In-breath, out-breath. Action and response. Call and answer.
In this piece, I want to explore that dance between self and surroundings. That way we can hopefully bring some awareness to what plays out beneath the surface of our communications. I believe that the more spaciousness and understanding we can create, the more inclusive we can make our communities.
What is Communication?
Communication is the dynamic process of sharing meaning between people. This happens through words, tone, gesture, posture, silence, eye contact, rhythm, speed and probably loads of other cues. It includes both what we intend to say and what we don't, what we actually say and what we hold back. It's influenced by the structure of language, culture, life experiences, moods and emotions.
You could compare communication to an iceberg. The words we speak are the visible part, above the surface. But that’s only a small part of the whole. Beneath lies a vast, unseen world full of intention, personal history, cultural codes and expectations. Much of what gets transmitted or received in a conversation isn’t said aloud at all, and yet it can shape everything. (I’m sure you’ve had the experience of “but I thought you meant…” and then realising you’d talked about entirely different things).
At its heart, communication is not just about exchanging information. It’s about connection. It’s how we try to be understood and to understand, to bridge our inner world with someone else’s, however imperfectly. It is never just about words. It’s an embodied, relational dance between (at least) two partners, that reflects who we are and how we are in the moment.
Across the Table
When you communicate with hopefully as much space and sensitivity as you can muster, you have no idea how your words land with the other. Of course we can’t truly know what’s going on inside someone else’s mind and heart, but it helps to be aware of a whole range of possibilities that most likely have nothing to do with you at all. Here are some things others might experience when you communicate, or try to negotiate, your needs, requests or boundaries:
They might…
think you're not taking their time seriously if you ask to reschedule
feel envious that you're managing to honour your needs when they can't
judge you as flaky, selfish or oversensitive even if they don’t say so aloud
feel rejected if you don’t want to join in (even if they know it’s not personal)
struggle to understand your quieter pace if their nature is high-energy
believe that pushing through is the only valid way, and see your rhythm as weakness
feel confused, or even threatened, if your self-care exposes something they’ve been avoiding
interpret your no as a challenge to their plans or identity
simply not have the tools or capacity to meet you where you are
♻️ Share in the comments which responses you recognise if someone wants to reschedule, or has a specific requests - or add different one’s!
Of course it can feel tender when others don’t immediately understand your choices. But you don’t have to twist yourself into their version of you. Let their responses be theirs, without letting their story seep into your bones. There’s a quiet strength in holding your shape, even when someone else can’t quite see it.
I resonated with a quote on Substack recently: “Emotional maturity is letting people be wrong about you. It’s understanding that their narrative has nothing to do with who you are.” (I can’t trace the source, but it was restacked on June 6th by
).Inside You
Equally, there might be all sorts of thoughts and emotions inside you that will seep into the way you communicate and in turn trigger something in the other person. Here are some I definitely recognise:
sadness for not being able to do everything you enjoy
feeling betrayed or limited by your body because it can’t ‘join the party’
guilt for letting people down
grief for living in a society that rewards extraversion and stamina
anger for being subjected to loud and jarring public places
shame for thinking you’re being dramatic or precious
trepidation at the thought of explaining yourself yet again
squirming with discomfort at being ‘that person’ who disrupts the flow
feeling torn between your needs and the cultural norms around you
wondering if you’re being rigid or unreasonable when you say no
questioning your own judgement: how essential is this boundary?
♻️ Comment below which one’s you recognise… or maybe you have other inner tapes?
How I Navigate Challenging Conversations
This essay doesn’t have answers. I’m just sharing my exploration of embodied and heart-felt interaction. When I have a potentially sensitive conversation ahead, I try to connect with the earth beforehand, feeling how my body is supported. Then I breathe into my spine, as physical anchor inside my own body.
I become aware of ‘standing at the centre of my circle’ (something I learned in my Movement Medicine training with Ya’Acov and Susannah Darling Khan). From there, I expand my awareness to include the person I’m going to speak to, envisioning the best possible outcome for both of us.
I try to connect, as it were, from my higher self to theirs. Acknowledging that both of us are simply human, each with expressed and unexpressed challenges. I try to listen to what is needed in this situation.
Sometimes that means I go over my boundaries. Sometimes I know I can’t.
Sometimes I am aware of my intuition, sometimes I’m not.
Sometimes I ignore the inner whisper of caution, sometimes I don’t even hear it.
Sometimes I’m able to negotiate a compromise.
Sometimes I’ll hurt someone’s feelings, or my own.
Often it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
With all this in the mix, I celebrate the times the space remains soft, understanding and encouraging. I’d love to hear your experiences with the dance of communicating differences, either in the comments below or in a private message!
Thank you for this Eline, such an important issue for the 17-20% whose nervous systems work differently, who are 'hypersensitive', receive more information and so need more time to process it; it's a gift that should be respected not trampled upon.
I spent today with my two and a half year old great-nephew. It was beautiful to see how clearly he expressed his 'no'. Without hesitation he knew just what he wanted and needed at each moment. No anger, frustration, anxiety or tantrum in the 'no' - just a clear expression of who he is. So sad that many of us never learnt this or lost it along the way. I hope it will be easier for him and his generation to keep this clarity and confidence in expressing 'no'.
I feel like this essay just walked into the room, gave my nervous system a warm cup of tea, and said, “You don’t have to contort yourself to be palatable.” The bit about someone else’s discomfort being a mirror of their own unexamined patterns? Oof. That’s gospel-level wisdom.
Also, the image of “standing in the center of your circle” needs to be stitched onto the robes of every people-pleaser in recovery. Too many of us have been orbiting around others’ expectations like confused moons hoping to be mistaken for stars.
Thank you for mapping this emotional terrain with such grace. I’m bookmarking this for the next time I spiral into guilt for simply needing stillness.