A few months ago, my daughter said something that stopped me cold: “I’m a failure to you.”

It was like someone punched me in my gut; no sooner had she said it, than I thought to myself, where did I go wrong? I had verbalised my feelings clearly and we speak all the time. My pride in her accomplishments was not getting through.

Apparently, she overlooked my compliments when I was speaking about my concerns of where she lives.

My daughter works for Pixar and lives in Oakland, California. In her short career, what she has achieved is nothing short of incredible, by any standard. But I can get hung up on the risks of the areas close to where she lives and works. She focused on something banal and missed the big picture. This led to a two-hour conversation, with our emotions on our sleeves. We needed to clarify and level set and ensure she heard what I felt filtered out the noise.

This one conversation reminded me how dangerous assumptions and silence can be. When we don’t express our pride, affection or gratitude, we leave people to fill in the blanks. But it is equally risky to assume they hear what we say. Selective hearing is the silent destroyer. Whomever that is – our kids, our coworkers, even our spouses – what they think they heard might not be what we intended.

That lesson was reinforced in a conversation with a friend, a professional adviser who I have worked with on another client relationship. The mother had to have her child put on a 72-hour hold after a breakdown. The parents had been pushing their child hard, whether about their grades, athletic pursuits in hopes of a scholarship, or simply discipline, believing that’s what good parenting looked like, as it had worked well for them.

When I asked my friend if they had ever told their child directly and clearly how proud they were of them, my friend retorted, “They know that.” However, what became apparent was that their child didn’t.

The parent finally shared their feelings of pride with their child – calmly, thoughtfully and directly. It was the first time the child had ever heard these words and message directly. That single moment began to repair their mental state. Now they are in a better place mentally, and the parent is learning to restructure the “listening muscle,” even though they never knew it was lost.

Listening, like communication, takes practice. We think we’re good at it. But all too often, we’re only half-listening, waiting to respond or defend, not truly hearing. The same goes for expressing positive emotion. We say it once and think it’s enough. But people forget. Words fade.

Repetition and clarity build trust.

There’s a saying in business and leadership: “Tell them seven times.” The best leaders, parents, and partners overcommunicate, because the message you think is obvious, rarely is.

If you don’t tell your colleagues, you appreciate them, they might assume you don’t. If you don’t remind your children you’re proud, they might think you’re disappointed. Silence leaves too much room for insecurity and misunderstanding.

So, say it out loud. Say it often. Your pride, your love, your belief in someone. Those words don’t lose power with measured repetition. They gain it.

If you’re struggling to say the right words or build – or rebuild – a relationship with someone important to you, let’s talk. My career has taken me around the world, speaking the nuance of language that when maximised, drives home the message – and relationship.