Breaking Your Own Rules

We all have certain rules we follow in our communication with other people. Sometimes we’re very conscious of these rules (like maybe deciding that you just don’t use curse words), other times we’re not conscious of them (I’m blanking on this for an example right now, so I’m going to chalk it up to the fact that I’m really anal-retentive when it comes to communication and am thus in denial about my own unconscious rules).

One of the great things about rules is breaking them. I don’t mean breaking a rule just to prove you can, or for a weird sense of power or manipulation. I mean knowing the rules (whoever made them) and then breaking them intentionally for the sake of emphasis or drawing attention to what you’re saying or writing.

Presidential Ain’t

For example, President (I love being able to call him that!) Barak Obama is an incredible orator. And if the stories about the writing of his speech yesterday are to be believed, he’s also a solid writer. His grammer is good. His sentences are well-crafted. His delivery is to be envied. But if he had thrown in the word “ain’t” yesterday, I think many of us would have paused. 

We know that the word “ain’t” is supposed to be incorrect grammar (it’s really not, but that’s a post for another day). We have been told that one of the rules is that intelligent, articulate people don’t use the word “ain’t.” 

But if he had used it, it would have drawn our attention to all of the words surrounding it. If our collective attention had wandered a bit, that single word would have instantly pulled us all back. It would have been breaking the established rules for a purpose. Hopefully a good purpose.

Angry Rule-Breaking

There are other times when our anger gets the best of us, and we break our own rules of communication. This almost always results in trouble, or at least some feelings of chagrin at some later, calmer date.

This happened to me yesterday. 

I hang out on Twitter, enjoying the banter, learning new words, and finding good stuff to read. Yesterday, Naomi of Ittybiz tossed up a link to an article that sounded promising. She told everyone to go read Charlie Gilkey’s latest blog post. Because Naomi’s one sharp implement, I headed over.

Charlie wrote a wonderful, eloquent post that was fashioned after Dr King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail. Charlie, however, wrote about equality for same-sex-oriented people (or GLBTQ). It was well-reasoned, well-written, and it made me smile. 

Charlie is in the heart of the Midwest. Lincoln, Nebraska … home of the most strangely-named State Fair in the whole of the United States.

(Seriously, their fair is called Aksarben … Nebraska spelled backwards. I performed there once. This is not an interweb rumor.)

By his own admission, he’s not one of the same-sex-oriented folks of this wide world. But he believes all people should be treated equally. And from that platform, he wrote.

Not at all surprisingly, troll-like commentors popped up to spew their vitriol. Someone said that being gay is a choice. Someone else brought up the Bible, drug abuse, and unhappiness as his arguments against being gay (and for why he thought Dr. King wouldn’t like Charlie’s missive).

In fairness, there were also supportive comments, and one from a woman calling for more action and fewer words (a position for which I have great sympathy in spite of my own fetish for wordcraft).

One person posted to gently respond to and disagree with the uglier comments. 

I resolved to keep my big mouth shut. In years of experience with this, I have found that trying to talk with and/or convince these sorts of folks to consider other positions on this issue is like asking a glacier to please step three feet to the left.

I have a rule about interacting with these folks on the interweb.

So I wasn’t going to comment. I limited myself to some snark on Twitter about it.

And then I broke my own rule. I broke it badly.

Yep. I eschewed all of my conflict-transformation training and practice. I didn’t count to ten. I let fly.

In letting fly, I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean. I don’t think I came off as irrational. That’s not the sort of anger I feel toward these folks. I feel the sort of pity that borders on Greek Tragedy. Whatever people may or may not want from me, pity is the worst thing I can feel toward anyone.

Still, I was communicating out of a place of anger. I don’t like it when I do that. It’s not that I think feeling angry is a bad thing; I just know myself well enough to realize that communicating from that place empowers me to say/write things I might otherwise keep to myself. 

The Point

There actually is a point to this little story. None of us is perfect when it comes to communication. We say things we don’t really mean to say. Or we allow emotion to overwhelm us to the point that we say things in a way that doesn’t actually communicate what we want to get across. 

We become less effective communicators.

Now it’s important that when this sort of thing happens (and it happens to everyone) that we cut ourselves a bit of a break. No one’s perfect.

The trick is to look back on it, figure out what we might have done/said/written differently and incorporate that learning into our future communication. For example, I probably should have just closed the tab with Charlie’s post in it. It’s not like I don’t have other stuff to do!

Breaking rules isn’t a bad thing. It can be really effective. Just make sure that when you’re breaking them that: 

1. You know the rule you’re breaking to start with
2. You know why you’re breaking this rule that you know
3. You’re really sure that breaking it will enhance communication and not just make it a mess

Anyone Else?

Now of course my ridiculous insecurity is screaming, “You dolt! What if you’re the only moron who does this?” Yeah, I suppose that’s possible, but I highly doubt it. 

When have you broken the rules and either been glad for it or have regretted it?