When You Start Building a Case
Jul 21, 2026
📌Pins for journal prompts are here
Last week, we talked about Nonviolent Communication (affiliate link) and getting over the title. This week, we’re going to look at what I found most helpful in the book.
When communication goes sideways, I often think I’m trying to explain myself. If I pull the thread, I realize I’m building a case.
Maybe you know this courtroom. It usually happens in your head. You collect evidence and revisit past incidents. Witnesses come to mind. The whole time, you might be wandering the house, picking up shoes or folding clothes while you mumble to yourself about why other people should be doing what you are doing.
I have built my case often. It’s not my best life skill. There are many lawyers in my family, so even if one of my kids tried to call me on it, I’d point out I had legal counsel available and keep going if I’m “wound up.”
This is what I call a lost-my-mind moment. It’s tricky because I may have a point. Maybe someone else should pick up the shoes or put away the dishes.
Compassionate communication doesn’t ask us not to have opinions, but it does invite us out of the mental courtroom. The courtroom is not a friendly place for relationships. It’s usually where I’m trying to get someone to “take responsibility” which is code for admitting that they are wrong and I am right. Sigh.
This isn’t the same as communication. Even if I’m right, you know, cause I’m still hanging out in that courtroom a smidge.
Let’s go back to the first week in this series where we meet Llama Llama in the grocery cart, having a full Shop-O-Rama moment.
A child tossing things out of the cart is an obvious tantrum. A grown woman storming through the house, muttering that no one helps, building a case against everyone she loves, and making sure everyone knows she’s frustrated. (Tell me I’m not the only one.) Well, that’s a tantrum too. (Sorry, obviously, but I want to talk about this honestly.)
That’s grown-up grocery cart dumping. We may not throw cereal, but we toss out the tone, sarcasm, and phrases like, “Sure would be nice if someone helped around here.”
Nonviolent Communication gives us a way to slow down before we ramp up and builds on the pause we talked about last month in the conversation series. We can notice four things:
- What happened?
- What do I feel?
- What do I need?
- What am I asking for?
Instead of expecting people to figure it out as we are tossing things from our shopping cart, we could ask for what we need.
Let’s get back to those shoes.
Courtroom version:
“Nobody in this house ever picks up after themselves. I do everything. Apparently, I am the only person who can see shoes. Amazing. Truly amazing.”
Compassionate communication version:
“I see shoes by the door. I feel tired and frustrated. I need the entryway clear tonight. Please put your shoes in the basket.”
Suddenly, we’re following Mama’s no llama drama instruction, and things get better instead of worse.
I hope you’ll stay with me through this next part because this doesn’t mean the shoes get picked up immediately. Compassionate communication isn’t a magical remote control we can push to get people to do what we want. It’s how we take responsibility for our part in the communication process.
We can say what we need without creating a mess.
I need help. Or rest. Or things picked up. Or people to share the load. Honest needs.
When we express those needs with tone, attitude, and disrespect, we’ve tossed everything out of the cart and turned it over.
This week, I’d like for you to notice where the courtroom shows up for you. When do you build a case and collect evidence?
Then ask yourself:
What happened?
What do I feel?
What do I need?
What am I asking for?
Next week, we’ll work on a way to practice. This week, just notice.
I’ll be cheering you on and teaching Birdie to bring me abandoned shoes, especially my own.
