I repeat it constantly to therapy clients: “You’d be surprised by how often people change their behavior if you tell them how you truly feel.”

It’s true. And it hurts my heart. Because so many of us are living and working and loving and navigating our lives in silence.

There’s so much life and love and magic and connection right on the other side of an awkward few moments of conversation. But we’re understandably terrified to speak up. Or we assume it’s not worth it, because no one has ever really listened to us before.

There are right and wrong ways to speak up, which I’ll get to in a moment. But first, an example.

Recently I told my partner I’d been feeling lonely and disconnected from her for the past week. As we laid in bed before turning out the lights, I said she’d seemed preoccupied. When we were with friends, she’d been chatty and engaged. But alone with me, she’d been quieter than usual.

I’d tried to connect by asking questions about her day and going in for kisses. But her responses had felt muted, like she was going through the motions while thinking about something else. I’d figured she was worn out from work, so I’d waited to see if it would pass but couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

She said that she’d felt disconnected too, which was good to hear because it confirmed my experience.

I told her I’d been feeling other things too: a little frustrated with her, since I’d tried a bunch of different ways to reconnect, without success. A little scared that she was starting to get bored of me, since we’d never gone that long without a moment of authentic connection. And a little jealous of her friends who were getting her attention.

She apologized and shared that she was, in fact, worn out. Not from work but from hosting friends at our house multiple times recently.

Suddenly, I felt connected again. My feelings felt valid. The story in my head that she was bored of me crumbled. There was a reason she’d been preoccupied that wasn’t about me: She’d been working hard to be there for friends and had little energy left.

We hugged and kissed, and it felt real. And days later, the connection is still there. We’re back on the same wavelength. It feels amazing.

I don’t always do it the right way. I’m often unconscious of my feelings, letting them leak out rather than saying them directly. I get prickly and irritable. I say passive aggressive stuff, which only increases the disconnection.

That whole week, when I felt her distance, I so wanted to say something snarky like, “Why don’t you go hang out with your friends, then?!” But I held it in, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I couldn’t take it anymore, because I’ve been practicing this sort of conversations for years now. I’ve learned that more often than not people will change their behavior toward me if I tell them how I truly feel.

It seems obvious—how would anyone know what you need if you don’t tell them? But it wasn’t until I joined a weekly therapy group for six years ago that that truth started getting into my bones.

I’ve messed up and shared my feelings in manipulative ways. I’ve yelled and hurt people emotionally. I’ve held feelings in for months, years even. But eventually, with enough time, and enough prodding from the group therapist, there’s an opening to share my truth. There’s that feeling of not being able to take it anymore.

And pretty much every time it’s gone well. I’ve felt more connected with the other person afterward. They understand what their actions do to me, and they often end up changing those actions to accommodate me.

If they don’t change, then at least we both know how it’s going to go next time. We both know what triggers the other person, and how to work through it together.

If you’re like me, that sounds like speaking in a foreign language. An alien language.

I’m not used to that. I’m used to people trying to fix my feelings. Talking me out of them. Saying, “You’re too sensitive.” Ignoring them. Laughing and making fun of me for expressing them. The ways adults and other kids often responded when I was a kid. The ways most people respond to me today as a man (though I also experience people, most often women, going the other direction and applauding me for sharing even the smallest feeling).

You don’t need six years of experience to start communicating differently, more courageously, more authentically. Start small.

Stick to a specific thing your partner (or friend or dad or coworker) said or did. Use my favorite communication script: “When you did (or said) X, I felt Y.” Practice. Practice. Practice.

There are much richer, more authentic, more connected relationships with other people right on the other side of a few uncomfortable moments.

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