By Dr. Kelly Conroy Moore, Inspire Contributor

Constructive communication has often been taught as a skill—a set of techniques that if we followed, would lead to good outcomes. The problem with this approach is that it is geared toward the head, the intellect and for better or worse, we mammals are connectors and are first and foremost guided by the heart. There can be no constructive conversations without compassion, the ability to deeply see another (and ourselves) with an open heart.

What does that mean and how do we cultivate more compassion? This has been my life’s work and deepest inquiry. I want to share my perspective and how I teach it in the program I created called Accompanied for Caregivers (AFC). In AFC we break down compassion into three domains: the me, the you, and the we. It is essential to work on all three domains to fully realize a culture of compassion.

Self (Me)

If we are to hold behavior and opinions we find disagreeable in our hearts and open our minds, we must first do that within ourselves. Most of us are at war with ourselves. We find parts of ourselves we like and those we do not like. We welcome the “good parts” of ourselves and try to control and get rid of the bad ones. The problem, of course, is that control and disdain don’t work to change a behavior in the long term. I teach that all of our parts are fundamentally good—even if they cause suffering. The key to really seeing their good nature is communicating with them compassionately to see the loving protective function of their behavior.

Let’s make this practical. Most of us have struggled with self-doubt. Rationally, we can know we are prepared, qualified, or in some way competent for the task at hand, but nonetheless, we doubt ourselves. One approach would be to argue hard with the self-doubter and let it know all the rational reasons it is wrong: “I have done this before, I am the best in my field, my kids are doing just fine.” If you pay attention closely, this doesn’t work so well. It triggers our threat system and we have to be on guard; there is an enemy in our midst. This sounds dramatic, but if you pay close enough attention, you’ll see its truth.

Contrast this with empathic dialogue. First, we see that self-doubt is only a PART of us, not the full expression of ourselves. Talk to it as though it was a character in a movie—even see it as such. My self-doubter looks like a really uptight old-fashioned librarian—tight bun, wirerimmed glasses, and stern face. When I talk WITH her, not AT her, things start to shift. I ask her, “How are you trying to help me?” She will often respond that she is trying to protect me from failure and tear me down before others can. Once I can see the loving protective function of her behavior, I start to soften and then negotiate with her. “OK, so we both want me to do well and to feel protected?” She can agree with that. Then I ask her, “Do you like to be in the role of putting me down and doubting me?” She almost always concedes that she does not. Once she feels understood, she is then ready to loosen her hard stance and work with me.

I believe that until and unless we have done this kind of individual, internal work with ourselves, we cannot move on to doing it very well with others. We simply haven’t had the firsthand experience of softening under pressure and seeing the power of it.

Loved Ones (You)

It can certainly be trickier to work with our loved ones in this way, but it is the most powerful thing we can do to strengthen a bond. The most important concept in seeing clearly into another is to assume foundational goodness. Assuming goodness with our loved ones helps us counter the stories of them doing this on purpose, and against us. Wondering what the root of this unwanted behavior is the first step. We can surface this by asking, “What is the loving protective function of this behavior?” It is almost always fueled by fear, self-blame, shame, grief, helplessness, or hopelessness. When we can see the emotion fueling the behavior, it allows us to soften. Our role as a loved one then is to help validate the FEELINGS underneath the behavior and not take on the behavior immediately.

Here is an example. Your loved one stops doing homework. This all-to-common behavior strikes terror in the hearts of most parents. If we fight the behavior of not doing homework, we cajole, we criticize, we reward, and we push. By looking at the root of the behavior, we stop to ask ourselves, “What is the loving protective function of this behavior?” Perhaps they are feeling the grief from a break-up. Perhaps they feel hopeless about their ability to compete in a high-achieving environment. In either case, it is not about the homework. To make a bridge in this case, we have to address the root. We can turn to our loved ones and say: I can imagine that after doing so well at your old school, to come to this school and not perform like you used to can be frightening. I can also imagine you might feel hopeless about school right now and that it might even be easier to stop trying than to try but fail. I can also imagine that playing video games might be more soothing than approaching your homework as your homework makes you feel anxious. Then and only then can we bring in all our ideas for getting homework done. Let’s sit together, let’s email the teacher, let’s take a walk first and then approach homework are all ways we can provide practical help. That said, NONE of them work until we have addressed the underlying issue of fear, hopelessness, and self-blame.

Community (We)

Seeing others compassionately who are not in our circle of care is the hardest thing we can do as humans, but it is not different from seeing ourselves or loved ones compassionately. When we come up against ideas vastly different from our own, we can first see our kneejerk reaction and note our judgments—don’t censor the judgments, really notice them. Some of my favorite judgments revolve around others’ ignorance, immaturity, or lack of self-awareness. I have been practicing asking myself, “What is the loving protective function of this behavior?” It is only then that I can see the context of this person’s beliefs and actions. One example is when I first met my in-laws. They have very different political beliefs than I do. Initially, all my judgments were alive and well. I was somehow better than them—more sophisticated, more knowledgeable. Then I decided to truly look at what was “under the hood.” I saw the context of how they have come to believe what they do and how they have been left behind and not considered when policies have been made. Before that, I could ONLY see my perspective and my own context. When I looked at how policies intended to help the environment put most of their town out of work and left whole families struggling to feed their children, my heart softened. I may disagree with their politics, but their humanity is in full relief to me. I see them as good people who, like me, want to feed their families and be happy and well. This has led to deep love and respect between us— even under the most divisive times.

Compassion is not merely a soft skill but a foundational element for nurturing healthy relationships and resilient communities. Through programs like Accompanied for Caregivers, we can cultivate compassion within ourselves, extend it to our loved ones, and ultimately embrace those beyond our immediate circles. These skills are crucial for navigating complex societal challenges and fostering a more compassionate world.

None of this ease and compassion can happen without softening our constructs of ourselves, our loved ones, and those in our extended community. We have to see clearly that the only way through these times is through the C’s of life: compassion, collaboration, clarity, and calmness. To access those qualities, we have to start with ourselves, see how easily rigid mind structures can soften within ourselves, toward our loved ones, and then finally (hopefully) toward those we consider “other.” Kindness and compassion, which are far from being soft skills, will be the attributes that save our communities. Let’s all work hard to cultivate them.