Psychological Trespassing

I don’t think most conversations become tense because people disagree.

I think they become tense because one of us, without realizing it, commits a small act of psychological trespassing. We cross an invisible boundary. We stop speaking from our own experience and begin making assumptions about someone else’s. We assume we know what they mean, what they’re feeling, why they behaved as they did, what they should do, and sometimes even who they are.

Most of us don’t do this to be controlling. In fact, we’re often trying to be helpful. Yet I’ve come to believe that psychological trespassing is one of the most common—and least recognized—sources of friction in our relationships.

Think about the people you most enjoy talking with.

It’s probably not because you always agree.

My wife, Hannah, and I occasionally see things differently. So do my closest friends and I. But I can’t remember the last time one of those conversations became adversarial...

Actually, that’s not quite true.

About three years ago, a dear friend was caring for a family member during an extraordinarily difficult time. I had spent months trying to support him in the ways I knew how. During one conversation he said something like, “You can’t possibly understand what I’m going through.”

He was right.

I couldn’t.

Yet I found myself disconnecting.

I’ll come back to this conversation in a moment.

For many years, Hannah and I have been developing a body of work that eventually became SAGE—Subjective Awareness and Genuine Expression. A couple of years ago, our partner, Kevin Miller, joined us, and together we’ve been searching for simpler, more relatable ways to communicate these ideas.

Eventually, we realized that one distinction explained an extraordinary amount of what we’d been observing. Human beings tend to communicate in two fundamentally different ways. We began calling them outside-in language and inside-out language.

Outside-in language rests on a number of hidden assumptions. It assumes I know what your behavior means, that I understand your motives, that I know what you’re thinking or feeling, and that I know what would be best for you.

Sometimes the content is critical.

“You’re too sensitive.”

“You’re overthinking.”

Sometimes it’s complimentary.

“You’re brilliant.”

“You’re such a generous person.”

The content changes. The structure doesn’t.

In every case, the speaker has crossed an invisible boundary. Instead of revealing their own experience, they’ve unconsciously begun assuming they know someone else’s.

That’s psychological trespassing.

Inside-out language is different. It’s a way of revealing myself—to myself and to others. Instead of telling you about you, I let you see what is happening within me.

Rather than telling you who you are, I reveal what I’m perceiving, experiencing, appreciating, fearing, or wondering. At first, inside-out language can sound a little unusual. That’s because most of us have spent a lifetime speaking outside-in.

For example, instead of saying, “You’re worrying too much,” I might say, “I’m worrying myself, wondering if you’re worrying too much.”

Outside-in language tends to create friction, which often leads to disconnection. Inside-out language tends to spark curiosity and foster connection.

Now, back to my friend.

Looking back, I don’t think I upset myself because he was wrong.

He wasn’t.

What I reacted to wasn’t the truth of what he said. It was the structure of the conversation. For just a moment, I heard his words as making an assumption about my experience rather than simply revealing his own.

That tiny shift was enough for me to disconnect. For a short time, we were in conflict, unable to hear one another. It didn’t last long, but here I am, three years later, remembering it. I’ve always believed interactions like this create a tiny bit of relational scar tissue. One moment may not seem like much, but over the years and decades, those tiny moments accumulate.

I see this phenomenon everywhere: between husbands and wives, parents and children, friends, business partners, and clients in counseling. People who love one another deeply create friction, and the friction rarely begins with the topic they’re discussing. It begins when one person crosses that invisible boundary and starts speaking about the other person’s experience rather than their own.

Stephen Porges's Polyvagal Theory helps explain some of what is going on in these conversations. His work suggests that our nervous systems are constantly evaluating cues of safety and threat, long before we're consciously aware of doing so.

Language, I believe, is one of those cues.

When someone tells me who I am, what I think, why I acted the way I did, or what I should do, my nervous system shifts into a subtle state of alert. Almost immediately, it begins asking: Do I need to defend myself? Explain myself? Push back? Withdraw?

When someone simply reveals their own experience, those questions rarely arise. Psychological trespassing isn’t only a communication problem. It’s also a nervous system problem.

I find it equally fascinating that psychological trespassing doesn’t occur only through our statements. It happens through our questions as well.

Suppose I ask, “Did you have a good weekend away?”

It’s a perfectly normal question, but it invites an evaluation—often a binary one. Yes or no. Good or bad.

Now imagine asking, “How did you experience your weekend away?” The conversation changes immediately. Instead of asking someone to judge the weekend, you’re inviting them to explore their experience of it.

Objective questions tend to invite objective answers, even though those answers are rarely as objective as we imagine. Subjective questions invite self-awareness.

One asks for conclusions. The other invites curiosity.

None of this means we should avoid disagreement. Quite the opposite. The ability to disagree without becoming adversarial may be one of the clearest signs of maturity in any relationship.

Healthy people don’t experience life the same way.

Why would they?

We’ve lived different lives. We’ve created different meanings from those lives. The goal isn’t agreement. The goal is remaining connected while we disagree.

I’m not suggesting every conversation will be easy. Some conversations involve deep pain. Some relationships aren’t safe. Some people have no interest in curiosity.

But I am suggesting something that may sound surprisingly radical.

When two people genuinely care about one another, disagreement does not have to become adversarial. We can explore different perspectives without trying to replace one another’s. We can remain curious without becoming defensive.

We can disagree without conflict.

And when we stop psychologically trespassing into one another’s experience, something remarkable begins to happen.

Our conversations become lighter.

Safer.

More curious.

More connected.

Almost...

frictionless.

I hope you find value in these articles. But ideas, by themselves, rarely change our lives. Transformation comes from noticing, practicing, experimenting, and gradually seeing ourselves—and one another—in new ways.

If today’s article resonated with you, I’d encourage you to begin experimenting with these ideas in your own conversations. Notice when you find yourself speaking from your own experience, and notice when you unintentionally begin making assumptions about someone else’s. You may be surprised by how often psychological trespassing happens—and by how quickly a small shift in language can change the tone of a conversation.

If you’d like to explore these ideas more deeply, you can download our free introductory article, The Overview Effect in Psychology. At the end of that article you’ll find links to four additional essays that, together, provide a comprehensive introduction to SAGE (Subjective Awareness and Genuine Expression).

If you choose to download the article, I’ll also send you an invitation to join our weekly Zoom conversations, where we explore these ideas together and practice applying them in everyday life.

I’d love to have you join us.