The meeting
I was in a meeting recently, and a few minutes in, I could feel the conversation turning.
The person across from me started describing a situation in a way that wasn't how I saw it at all. They backed it up with examples, but the examples weren't real.
They were hypothetical: what if this happens, imagine if that goes wrong. Their tone was frustrated, and the way they spoke felt controlling, as if the conclusion had already been decided and I was only there to agree with it.
And then something happened that I've learned to pay close attention to.
My face started to flush. My chest tightened. I could feel a familiar energy rising, the kind that wants to jump in, correct, explain, defend.
This time, I was lucky enough to catch it.
So I dealt with the moment first and left the message for later.
The pivot
Instead of arguing with the content, I stepped back and named what was happening between us:
"This message makes me feel uncomfortable. Please let me know what the purpose of this conversation is. Show me the facts, and tell me what you want to achieve here."
That was it. I didn't argue the point or try to prove them wrong.
Within minutes the whole dynamic shifted. The hypotheticals fell away, and the tension that had filled the room a moment before had nowhere left to go.
What changed? I started responding to how the conversation was unfolding instead of what was being said. I moved from the content to the process, from the message to the moment.
The times I don't catch it
I'd love to say I always manage this. I don't.
I remember plenty of times when the reaction got past my awareness before I could notice it. One moment I was in a normal conversation; the next I was in the middle of something emotionally charged, and I couldn't quite say how I got there.
Those conversations had almost nothing to do with the topic on the table. They had everything to do with defending, proving, attacking.
Defending my position. Proving I was right, or competent, or worth listening to. Attacking the other person's logic, sometimes their character.
And afterwards there's that familiar aftertaste. You replay it in your head and think of the better thing you could have said.
You wonder why such a small thing took up so much energy.
If you've been there, you're not alone. Most high performers I work with know this place well, precisely because they care so much about getting things right.
Why triggers take over: reaction vs. response
What separates those two kinds of conversation is the gap between reaction and response. Smart, experienced people with great communication skills fall into that gap all the time.
A reaction is automatic. Something in the conversation (a tone, a word, a sense of being controlled or not heard) touches an old sensitivity, and a protective part of us steps forward to handle it.
That part is trying to keep us safe. But it reaches for old strategies, like fighting back or explaining harder until we win the point.
A response comes from a different place. It happens when there's just enough space between the trigger and what we do next for us to choose. (I wrote more about that space in Reacting vs. responding at work.)
Here's the part I find most useful: the body almost always knows first. Long before the mind has a story about what's going on, the body is already sending signals.
A flushed face. A tight chest. Heat in the neck, a clenched jaw, a faster heartbeat, a sudden urge to interrupt.
Think of those signals as a doorbell. If you hear it, you get to decide whether to open the door. If you don't, the protective part answers for you.
How to address the moment
You can't force self-awareness in the heat of a conversation, but you can train for it. Here's what I practise myself and with my clients.
- Know your early signals. Think back to your last charged conversation. Where did it show up in your body first? Face, chest, stomach, hands, voice? Your signals are your personal early-warning system.
- Name it, silently. When you notice the signal, label it: "I'm getting triggered." Naming creates a small distance between you and the reaction. You become the one noticing the part.
- Step out of the content. Stop debating the hypotheticals. Ask yourself: what is actually happening in this conversation right now?
- Say what's true, simply. Share your experience without blaming: "This is making me uncomfortable." That's information, and it invites the other person to notice the dynamic too.
- Bring it back to purpose. Ask the questions that ground the conversation: What's the purpose here? What are the facts? What do you want to achieve? Facts and purpose leave little room for drama.
- Review afterwards, kindly. When you do get swept away (and you will), look back with curiosity, not judgement. What triggered you? What were you defending? Each time, you catch it a little earlier.
You'll still feel the emotion, and you won't always stay calm. The goal is to stay present enough to choose.
Lead the conversation by leading yourself
The most useful thing I did in that meeting was notice my own flushed face and tight chest, and choose not to let them run the conversation.
That's what self-leadership looks like in real life: the ability to catch yourself and lead the moment instead of being led by it.
So next time you feel the heat rise, try asking yourself: Am I responding to the message, or to the moment?
Want to understand what triggers you, and why? Take the free Emotional Intelligence Scorecard to see where you stand today. Or, if you're ready to work on this together, book a free 30-minute discovery consultation.
