There are lot of ways we discourage bringing up conflict, some subtle and some less so. People who tend to initiate conversations about conflicts may get pegged a pot-stirrer or simply become known as difficult. Expressing genuine anger or sadness in response to a conflict often prompts responses to “just let it go” or “be the bigger person,” which can make conflict avoidance seem like a universal virtue. It is not. As I’ve spoken about before, I do believe there are cases where avoiding conflict may be a smart choice, but I think more often than not, we (myself included) lean on it as a form of protection or easy way out of a challenge. I wish we had the same kind of language and attitudes to celebrate the courage it takes to raise conflict directly and open-heartedly.
Recently, a friend shared a story with me – I’ll call her Jane. Jane and a good friend of hers had gotten into a heated conversation a while back that ended with her friend ordering Jane to leave her house and making disparaging comments about Jane’s family, among other things. After calming down some, the friend apologized but it never felt fully resolved to Jane and an unease lingered whenever she’d see or think of this person. Eventually, Jane decided that she needed a chance to acknowledge the impact this incident had on her and work through the tension more purposefully.
But Jane, being a conflict practitioner and coach herself, also knew the value of doing some homework to set up the conditions for a productive dialogue. She came up with a simple structure they could use to each have space to share openly. She sketched out some of the things that were important for her to express – not a script, but some of her key feelings and needs related to the conflict. She reached out to the friend and specifically requested that they find a convenient time and private space where they could talk one-on-one without distractions. She showed up centered in her intentions for their time together– to share honestly, to listen deeply, and to honor her friend’s dignity as well as her own, even while tackling a painful experience.
According to Jane, the conversation was quite positive. They took turns listening to the other without interruption. They each filled in details and context the other did not know. And Jane got an apology and a commitment to repair that felt authentic. Her friend said, rather poetically, "I can't promise I won't hurt you again, but I can promise I won't hurt you in the same way." That phrase encapsulates a spirit I’ve tried to embrace – that we are human, we are imperfect, and we will make mistakes and sometimes hurt others, even those we love dearly. But we are also capable of growth and change, and we can commit to not making the same mistakes again.
Certainly Jane may know a little more about conflict than the average person, but beyond the helpful steps she took before and during this exchange, she did something that all of us can do: have the courage to address conflict head-on. It won’t always turn out like in Jane’s story. As with so much in life, we cannot control what will come of bringing up a tough subject. But we can be assured that we cared enough about the relationship or the issue – we cared enough about ourselves – to give it try.