Being human
There was a time early in my leadership journey when I treated complaints like a bad habit — something negative, draining, and best avoided. The energy around complaints felt heavy, and my instinct was to steer clear. But over time, I’ve come to see them differently. I no longer view complaints as purely negative. Instead, I’ve realized they often arise when a solution feels out of reach, and that’s where the real work begins.
For a while, I struggled with this concept because, frankly, I wasn’t comfortable with the part of me that complained. I’ve always prided myself on pushing through, staying positive, and moving forward. I've learnt that my discomfort with other people’s complaints was really a reflection of how hard it was for me to accept my own frustrations.
So I started paying attention to the complainer inside. The moment I allowed myself to acknowledge my own complaints, I stopped fighting them. I could finally see them for what they really were: a way of expressing a need. Self-compassion showed me that it wasn’t about being endlessly grateful or ‘powering through’ — it was about being human and allowing myself room for discomfort.
Temporary: This might be the most liberating realization: complaints are fleeting. They feel heavy in the moment, but if I sit with them and give them space, they shift. The situation evolves, perspectives change, and what once felt like a roadblock becomes just another part of the path. Understanding that complaints don’t last forever helps me let go of the need to solve everything immediately. It’s less about reacting and more about letting things unfold. There’s something powerful in trusting that even frustration can pass, and when it does, there’s often clarity on the other side.
Discomfort: Behind almost every complaint is a layer of discomfort. Something has unsettled me, whether it’s a minor irritation or something deeper. If I don’t acknowledge that discomfort, the complaint lingers and intensifies. I had to get better at recognizing my own unease and addressing it directly. Sometimes, that just meant being present with it — other times, it meant speaking up and making my needs known. But either way, it was about allowing space for the feeling, instead of pushing it away.
Requests in Disguise: When someone (or you) complains, it’s not just a vent session. Hidden within the complaint is a request. It’s a signal that something needs to change. The challenge is uncovering what that request actually is. When I complain, it’s because there’s something I wish were different — something I want. Once I figured that out, I could get clear about what I was asking for. Complaints stopped being dead-end frustrations and started becoming actionable requests.
What’s even more fascinating is how this shifts the way I handle complaints from others. Now, when someone comes to me with a frustration, my first instinct isn’t to brush it off or avoid it. Instead, I ask myself, what’s the pain here? If I can show that I care about that, even in the smallest way, it opens up the conversation. And once I understand the hurt, I can then ask, “What’s the request behind this? What would you like to see happen?”
That kind of question isn't common.
Complaining feels safer than making a direct request because it doesn’t expose you to rejection. But when you invite someone to get specific about what they want, it can lead to clarity, action, and — most importantly — growth. And sometimes, you’ll hear a request you can’t meet. That’s fine, too. But at least now, there’s an opportunity for real dialogue, not just an endless loop of frustration.
Ultimately, complaints aren’t about negativity; they’re about possibility.
There’s something to be said for sitting with the discomfort rather than running from it. When we stop resisting the things that frustrate us, when we embrace them with understanding and curiosity, the tension softens. It becomes less about fixing everything in the moment and more about seeing clearly what’s beneath the surface. In the end, it wasn’t about trying to escape the frustration — it was about being human and allowing room for discomfort.