For a long time, I thought giving good feedback meant being honest as quickly as possible.
When my wife finished a painting and asked, with genuine excitement, what I thought, my instinct kicked in. I would go straight to improvement. Colour balance. Composition. What could be stronger. What I would tweak.
None of it was cruel. Most of it was probably correct.
And yet, something always shifted in the room.
The pride drained first. Then the warmth. Then the conversation quietly turned into a defence session. She was no longer sharing. She was protecting.
It took a completely different moment for me to see what I was doing wrong.
I had just finished a presentation at work and was bracing for the usual feedback ritual.
The list of what missed the mark. What should have been tighter. What I should not do next time.
Instead, I was asked a simple question.
What parts of the presentation did you feel most confident about?
I stopped. Thought. Answered. I talked about keeping it clear. Staying on time. Avoiding unnecessary technical detail.
They listened. They acknowledged those strengths and confirmed they had noticed the same things.
Then came the second question.
If you were to give this presentation again, what would you do differently?
Something shifted instantly.
Because my strengths had already been named, there was nothing to defend. The question did not feel like criticism. It felt like support.
I found myself reflecting honestly. I offered my own improvements before anyone else had to.
The suggestions that followed landed easily. There was no resistance left to push against.
That was the lesson.
Good feedback does not start with what is wrong. It starts by anchoring what is working.
Once someone feels seen, improvement becomes a shared goal instead of a threat.
Since then, I have changed how I respond when someone shares work they care about.
Which part of this are you happiest with?
If you were to do this again, what would you explore differently?
Those two questions change everything. The tone softens. Defences drop. The conversation turns collaborative. Feedback becomes something you build together, not something you survive.
I wish I had learned this earlier.
Not because it makes feedback nicer.
Because it makes it actually work.
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