Compassion at Work

I started speaking nearly a decade ago. Not because I thought it could be a viable career path, but because I wanted to overcome a deep-seeded fear I had of talking. As a stutterer, I spent much of my life avoiding talking because I was deeply insecure about my speech. Not being able to effortlessly say something as simple as your name can be an incredibly embarrassing experience. And it’s quite confusing and discomforting for the listener as well; why can’t this grown adult person say their name and why are they so nervous? Speaking, in general, just made me feel demoralized.

I carried this shame and fear with me for years as I navigated young adulthood and attempted to get some semblance of a career off the ground. But not talking to people – and avoiding situations where I’d have to carry a conversation – eventually took its toll. I knew I needed to change, so I spoke on stages as a way to face the fear. What ended up happening, however, was not at all what I expected in more ways than one.

Something I learned very early on in my speaking career was that no one really cared about my stuttering, at least not in the way I thought they would. You see I spent most of my life avoiding talking because I felt that people couldn’t stand to hear me stutter and see my struggle to get words out. But as it ended up very few people had any issues listening to me speak (and stutter) and interestingly enough, the person that did have the biggest problem with my speech was me.

Compassion at work

This week, we’re talking about compassion. Compassion is one of the biggest reasons why vulnerability is so important to professional success. When we are bringing our humanity to work, compassion needs to be one of the first things we consider when we are entering conversations.

According to empathy researcher Helen Reiss, MD, because we feel personal distress when we see that others are in pain, we are motivated to “respond with compassion.” I have experienced this countless times as a stutterer, especially earlier on in my life when I struggled so greatly with hating my speech, and there for hating myself. This was never more apparent than when I was in my school years.

Most of the time, school was a nightmare for me. I had a deep insecurity about my speech, and that materialized itself as crippling anxiety. I was constantly surveying the “reading out loud” situation in grade school. Going around the room watching each of my classmates read their assigned paragraph in the book was literally like a ticking time bomb. Each person standing up was one step closer to what felt like the end of the world.

As the person in front of me was finishing up their paragraph, the dread would transform into terror. My throat would close. My heart pounded so loudly I swear everyone in the room could hear it. I’d tremble as I slowly stood up, fumbling with the book, praying for a PA announcement or fire alarm or nuclear warfare – truly anything to get me out of reading. Of stuttering.

Once I got to high school, I was happy to learn reading out loud was no longer the norm. Unfortunately for me, it was replaced with oral presentations. The first presentation I gave was in biology class freshman year. It was a quick, five-minute talk on a rare disorder called phenylketonuria. And that was the first problem: this word would be impossible to say for a fluent person. For me? Saying those seven syllables was the first roadblock in what would be five minutes of pure hell.

To make matters worse, I had several friends in that class with me. Two people whose lockers were right next to mine, Trisha and Mike. And my best friend at the time, Brandi. So, as I walked up to the front of the room when it was my turn to give my presentation – my body hotter than a broiler and my mouth as dry as Las Vegas in July – I tried to calm myself. You see, I’d spent the entire night before up until maybe 3am just practicing my presentation. I knew it like the back of my hand. I thought if I could distract my body with exhaustion while also being extremely practiced, I wouldn’t stutter.

I was wrong.

Every syllable of every word was a struggle. And I’m sure I looked as terrified and pained as ever. It was miserable. After the longest five minutes of my 14-year-old life had finally expired, I made the walk of shame to my seat in the lab at the back of the class. The effects of stuttering go so much further than just that moment; you must deal with the stares, the discomfort of others, and the confusion well after you’ve finished talking. Coincidentally enough, the two people I was sitting behind and next two were also the two people whose lockers were right next to mine: Trisha and Mike, respectively. So going back to my seat, I knew I’d have to talk to them, and I wanted to make it seem like I was okay.

Trisha, who sat in front of me, turned around and asked if she could have some paper. She didn’t need any, and we both knew that, but she extended that gesture to let me know that what just happened didn’t matter. That she still saw me as me and that stuttering wouldn’t impact our relationship. It was the first time I felt compassion – and not pity – from someone about my speech, and it was truly life changing.

Compassion opens the door to kindness

Compassion is a step beyond empathy. It is thoughtful in that it shows you can understand that someone is experiencing a specific feeling, and it’s contagious in that you are feeling the same feeling as the other person. Compassion is when you see someone’s pain, feel their pain, and decide to do something to ease their pain. And that’s exactly what Trisha did for me that day in freshman biology.

Her kindness made me feel safer. I felt like I had this big, ugly insecurity that would make me look pathetic and dumb to others. It was a shame that hung heavily throughout my life. But it that moment, Trisha’s kindness showed me that it was okay; how I spoke was okay.

Compassion helps us to suspend judgment

When we are compassionate, we can really see other’s perspectives with much less judgement. We feel with them, and therefor can better connect to them. That in turn enhances collaboration because we aren’t ever at odds.

Because of that compassion, everyone feels like they are seen and they are accepted, not judged. Compassion is a friendly reminder that we are on the same team, and we want everyone to truly succeed.

Compassion is linked to better problem solving skills

Resilient teams are the most successful teams. This isn’t a shocking statement. Resiliency is what keeps on going in the face of doubt, fear and failure. But the resilience teams get from compassion results in teams being able to solve problems at a higher, more productive level.

Why? Because in itself is an act of courage, of faith. We rarely know what the outcomes of situations are, especially when we are collaborating on something that is new or challenging. We have to have faith in more than just ourselves, but our teams as a whole. And that faith is a direct line to being more confident in everyone’s abilities. That confidence results in better problem solving.

How can you show compassion to your coworkers?

Compassion is one of the most underrated qualities of a successful team. But it’s also one of the simplest acts you can engage in today to improve your culture, communication and productivity. Here’s a few things you can do to show more compassion at work.

Ask how you can help

It’s truly that simple. If you see someone is having a rough go of it; they’ve been out of the office for a few days; or looked stressed and concerned, ask how you can help. Now they may respond to you that they don’t need anything, and that’s probably true. But the simple act of taking a moment out of your day to see how you can help someone who may be in need is deeply impactful. If your teammates know that you care, they’re going to work harder for you and for the team.

Remember and take into account who you are speaking to

All of us approach conversations a bit differently because we’re all unique. The way you speak to and engage with one person might not fly with someone else. It’s always important to remember that the way you say something is just as important as what you are saying. Be very aware of what people need from you in conversations in order to best receive your message.

Take advantage of (or create) hallways moments

Hallway moments are when we are walking past coworkers and have a quick conversation. Sometimes it’s about work, sometimes about life and family, and other times it’s about absolutely nothing. These moments are small but crucial for relationship building. Every interaction you have with someone is an evolution of that relationship; so take the time to show true compassion by asking about them and their life outside of work.

If you’re in a remote setting, put some time on the calendar for five- or ten-minute catchup sessions with coworkers you don’t get much interaction with because of distance. Keeping track of those relationships is of course a great way to nurture your network, but it also boosts morale.

Compassion at work means remembering you and your coworkers are humans. Humanity is what connects us; it's that nudge that makes us wonder if those around us are doing well in a life that can seem so cold and difficult. Lean into that feeling, and always bring your humanity to work.

Sharon Steed is a keynote speaker, author and founder of Communilogue, an empathy consultancy. She teaches audiences the key empathy behaviors necessary to retain top talent as well as improve individual and team performance. A lifelong stutterer, Sharon uses her speech impediment to both teach what empathy is and to inspire audiences to engage in empathy actions daily.?Head to her website?to learn more about her work, and follow her on LinkedIn where she shares daily updated on making empathy actionable and vulnerability at work.