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What to say when someone says something critical.

Last week, I shared how advice almost too simple to be good is usually the wisest, most trustworthy advice. And I should take it.

I didn’t want to stop at just one example. So today, I’m sharing wisdom on how to respond to backhanded criticism with a single word. My daughter just learned this strategy from her 20-year-old cousin, Camilla. Reina and I role played it for fun, and we went ooooooooooh. This is GOOD.

(And in case you’re wondering, there’s no cussing involved.)

A bit of backstory. The two girls were on a tropical vacation together. Walking along the beach, Reina shared how when certain family members comment on, say, her body shape or eating habits, the hurt shuts her down while her blood boils inside. She asked Camilla, "How do you handle this stuff?”

“Oh,” Camilla answered breezily. “I just say, ‘Okay.’”

Okay.

That’s it. No more, no less.

She acknowledges the other person’s opinion as fact. She stamps RECEIVED on the verbal communication with that single word and files the memo in a mental box. If the other person keeps talking, she repeats the process. Okay. Okay.

The brevity is genius. So is the lack of reactivity. But there’s even more magic here, and it’s in the follow-up.

As soon as the dialogue is over, Camilla scans the imaginary memo in the mental box. If it merits consideration, she reflects on it. If it doesn’t, she tosses it and goes about her merry way. And 97% of the time, the memo gets tossed.

My role play with Reina went like this.

“You’re so beautiful. When I was your age, I looked just like you, but thinner.”
“Okay.”

“I hope you’re not cooking with olive oil. That’s bad for you. Actually, I’ve pretty much just stopped cooking with oil.”
“Okay.”

It felt good not to end the made up dialogue in silence, but to be polite and firm instead.

And reading the mental memo instead of replaying the offensive movie in your mind’s eye after? Well, that was a revelation. Who knew letting go of upset could be made so much easier by swapping out one visualization for another (one involving a dumpster you could safely set fire to)?

We’ve covered yucky family stuff, but the benefits of meeting criticism with okay don’t end there. There are some workplace interactions I’d love to travel back in time and redo.

“You’re a smart person! I don’t understand why not making typos is even a conversation we have to have.”
“Okay.”

“Yes, you gave us what we asked for. You just didn’t give us what we were looking for.
“Okay.”

“The fact that you ask so many questions makes me concerned about how much you’re paying attention.”
“Okay.”

—-

What about you?

Whose criticism gets under your skin, stays there, and cuts more often and more deeply than you think it should?

Do you feel drained? Would you like to take some of that energy back, and put that into making something you want—a book, business, art project, website, community connections, playtime with your pet, or pilgrimage—a reality?

Or, most radical of all, put that energy to rest and recharge your chronically drained batteries?

Then I heartily suggest you try saying, “Okay,” next time the opportunity arises.

A gentle reminder. It’s 100% alright if you are not okay today. You deserve respect, dignity, kindness, grace, latitude, understanding, and not criticism, including on those days when you feel guilty or badly about yourself.

You can say okay to whatever is happening. Even if you’re having that kind of day.

“Okay,” as a response is always an option. It’s a choice that’s yours for the taking, no matter what.

Rumi

P.S. Question for you: What are your thoughts on Substack? Do you subscribe to any newsletters there (and if so, which ones)? I’m considering moving Nudge to that platform and would love your input.

P.P.S. Here’s an 11-year-old boy belting out tunes to the musical Matilda in the car like he means it. Little things that delight are everything. (Also, this kid understands how “Okay,” works. Watch the way he subverts Dad’s jabs about memorizing times tables.)

P.P.S. Continuing last week’s poetry theme with Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese as read by poet David Whyte. Its the kind of beauty that sinks into the marrows and heals. And I agree with David: You do not have to be good. Full stop.

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