The Worst Kind of Feedback
The other week I found myself falling into a trap, one that I’ve discovered is exceedingly common to people I meet, no matter their level of achievement or general ability to be level-headed and forward-thinking. The trap? Spiraling on feedback I wasn’t able to make sense of. Feedback is one of those things that’s taken over a large segment of space in our career lives, this near-constant presence at every step of our journey: giving it, receiving it, processing it, and even—sometimes—rejecting it.
There I was, listening to a participant sharing his thoughts in a facilitated workshop, when I caught a note of unanticipated and unquestionably critical commentary directed right at me. In the moment (live and in front of others), I took it in stride, acknowledging his comment, focusing on the part that would be most relevant to the others in the room. The participants could have easily thought I was impervious to that sharp sting of critical feedback. And then afterwards, the trap door shut.
When I fall in the trap, that cold place where rational thinking and mindful perspective are shut out and where all the positive feedback you’ve received vanish instantly, it’s pretty hard for me to free myself. There I was dwelling. Questions swirled: “What do you think he meant by that? What was he talking about? Maybe I misunderstood? No, I didn't misunderstand. Should I reach out to him? Why can’t I just let this go?” I felt messy. Confused. No clear direction on how to get out of the trap and move on.
I thought about how common it is, truly, to dwell on the negatives. How many different kinds of successful people burn hours and energy (often secretly and silently) stew about their performance after the fact, amplifying what feels bad and unclear, while muting the good.
There’s a cancer surgeon in New York named Megan—someone who literally deals with life or death decisions every day—who’s at a wonderful, healthy mid-point in her career: satisfied patients, a knack for complex surgeries, wide respect from colleagues, loads of personal goals and accomplishments met. Still, she says, one mystifying round of feedback can leave her feeling as if she’d barely gotten started in medicine. Back at square one. Stranded and doubtful, questioning her worth, questioning the job. As if the feedback were some kind of referendum, or judgment, on her whole career. It can come from anywhere. An administrator doing what administrators often do, admonishing some lapse of paperwork. Or a patient in so much pain they’re in a rage of dissatisfaction with their care. Megan is a grown-up. She knows what being a doctor is, after all, not exactly one smooth, easy path of crystal-clear communication between participants. But something about an unexpected bit of confusing and critical feedback can nag, really nag, her for weeks. A dissonant messy noise that ends up taking far too much time, energy, and space in her heart.
It’s worth asking. What is feedback? If you want to get technical, feedback is merely a fraction of a signal that you hear after it’s gone through an electrical circuit. Merely a fraction. When you hear an amplifier giving feedback, it’s a distortion. A blend of the signal with noise. Its message cannot ever be crystal-clear. Its nature is to be messy.
I actually love getting constructive feedback. I’m often energized by going through the mental gymnastics of integrating a clear piece of critical feedback into my work. If I understand what someone is giving me—that is, without too much distortion—then I can run with it. I can make adjustments on the fly, or decide on my own whether the recommended changes are worth integrating at all. Criticism and I are on good terms; criticism by itself isn’t the issue. When the person giving feedback manages to be so unclear; when all there is a mixture of signal and noise, without clear direction, the trap door opens, leaving us to fixate, trying to separate all the noise, picking apart the words to find a specific message.
Direct, clear, actionable feedback, even if critical, is an indication of something precious: it signals someone else’s investment in the work. Your work. When someone takes the time to offer that kind of commentary, the message comes through clear as a bell: that person cares about you and your growth.
Clear feedback is constructive, essential to growth. But when you’re finding it hard to make it intelligible, and the stories in your head are becoming evermore protracted, here’s a way out of the trap: go back to the source and get the clarity you deserve, or if for whatever reason, asking questions doesn’t feel worth it, recognize that this is feedback in its technical form only — the signal in the noise — and simply turn it off.
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