Addressing Conflict with an Open Heart

Honoring Truth, Repair, and the Humanity in Us All

For most of my life, I thought I was just conflict-averse.

I gave people the benefit of the doubt. I let things go. I made excuses for behavior that hurt me. I over-apologized. I under-acknowledged my own needs. I told myself I was being “kind,” “compassionate,” “mature.”

But what I was really doing… was abandoning myself.

I wasn’t afraid of conflict.

What I was afraid of—deep down—was trusting my own perception.

Because in past relationships, I had been taught not to. I had been gaslit, manipulated, and guilted into questioning myself so often that I stopped believing what I saw and felt. I began to believe that the version of the story someone else told was more valid than my own.

And that pattern… it caught up with me.

This past year, I hit a limit.

All the small hurts I’d swallowed became heavy. All the patterns I’d ignored became sharp. And all the truths I had tiptoed around finally demanded to be spoken.

I exploded.

With pain. With truth. With fury.

Not because I wanted to hurt anyone—but because I had finally stopped hurting myself.

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The Curse of Delayed Conflict

When we avoid conflict in the name of peace, what we create instead is pressure.

Tiny ruptures become hairline fractures.

Hairline fractures become fault lines.

And one day—we break.

And what’s worse?

We’re not just angry at the people who hurt us.

We’re angry at ourselves for not speaking up sooner. For not setting the boundary. For not trusting what we knew.

That’s the real cost of conflict avoidance:

Not just damaged relationships—but damaged self-trust.

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The Truth About Conflict

Here’s what I now understand:

Conflict isn’t the problem. It’s the path.

It’s how we speak truth.

It’s how we understand one another.

It’s how we repair, reconnect, and realign.

And at its heart, conflict isn’t about being “right.”

It’s about seeing and being seen.

We don’t need more winners and losers.

We need more people brave enough to ask:

“Can we be in this together—even when it’s hard?”

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How I Prepare for Conflict Now

1. I Set My Intention

Before I speak, I check in with my heart.

What do I want to create here?

Clarity? Closure? Connection?

My intention grounds me—and I often share it aloud.

2. I Remove “Right” and “Wrong” from the Conversation

There are always multiple perspectives. Multiple truths.

Conflict isn’t a courtroom—it’s a conversation.

When I release the need to “win,” I create room for understanding.

3. I Get Honest About the Core Issue

Sometimes it’s not what happened, but what it represents:

• Feeling overlooked

• Feeling used

• Feeling dismissed or unsafe

Naming the real wound allows me to speak from truth instead of reaction.

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How I Show Up in the Conversation

• I thank them for meeting me. This sets a tone of respect.

• I own my impact. Not just my intent.

• I stay curious. I ask: “What was that like for you?”

• I get clear about what I need. Without shame.

• And if I’m triggered? I pause. I breathe. I remind myself: We are two humans trying to understand each other.

And if the other person can’t meet me there—if they’re committed to being “right” rather than being in relationship—then I honor that.

But I no longer beg to be understood by people who refuse to listen.

I no longer stay in rooms where my honesty is treated like hostility.

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The Bravery of Repair

I will always apologize for harm I’ve caused.

Even when it’s unintentional.

Even when it’s hard.

But I will no longer apologize myself out of existence to maintain relationships where I am never met halfway.

True conflict resolution requires reciprocity.

It asks each of us to say:

“Here’s where I see I caused pain. I’m sorry.

And I see where I was hurt too. Can we talk about that?”

If someone can’t meet you in that sacred middle space—then you’re not resolving conflict. You’re contorting.

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If You’re Like Me…

If you’ve waited too long.

If you’ve doubted yourself over and over.

If you’ve exploded after months or years of swallowing your truth—

You are not broken.

You are not too much.

You are not dramatic.

You are someone who finally believed yourself.

That’s not failure.

That’s growth

Courage to confront

Why avoiding conflict creates more harm—and how heart-led courage can lead us home

For years, I thought avoiding conflict made me easy to love.

I softened my tone. I held back truth. I contorted myself to be more “palatable.”

And in doing so, I built a quiet prison of resentment—one brick at a time.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

When we silence our truth to avoid conflict, we don’t eliminate tension.

We just redirect it.

We snap at strangers. We yell at traffic. We spiral into self-criticism.

Conflict is not the enemy.

The absence of honesty is.

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1. Where Conflict Comes From

Not all conflict is created equal.

Sometimes it’s a clash of values.

Sometimes it’s a misunderstanding.

Sometimes it’s unhealed pain masquerading as a moral high ground.

Here’s what I’ve seen most often:

• Different Values

We aren’t always aligned—and that’s okay.

The challenge is when we expect others to validate or mirror what’s sacred to us.

• Same Values, Different Expressions

Many modern political divisions are rooted here.

Two people may care about safety, but express that care through opposite beliefs.

• Miscommunication

Tone, timing, and context all shape how our words are received.

Meaning often gets lost in the gap between intention and impact.

• Projection

Sometimes we’re not actually angry with the person in front of us—we’re angry with a memory, a fear, or a version of ourselves we don’t want to face.

(And yes, sometimes—not always—there is jealousy. But labeling all conflict as jealousy is a bypass, not a solution.)

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2. The Path Through: Heart-Led Conflict

Assume Positive Intent—but not blindly.

There’s a difference between offering grace and abandoning discernment.

I’ve made the mistake of assuming the best in others at the expense of myself—of silencing my gut because I wanted to believe their heart.

Positive intent is a good starting point.

But it’s not a shield from accountability.

You can love someone’s soul and still hold them responsible for the impact of their actions.

Impact matters more than intention.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” is not the same as “I see that I did—and I care.”

Conflict often escalates when we argue about what someone meant instead of listening to how it landed.

Let the pain be real. Let the repair be honest.

Let go of right and wrong.

Righteousness is seductive—it gives us the illusion of control.

But it keeps us stuck.

The truth is, we all mess up. We all misread each other. We all carry bias.

When we approach conflict not as a battle, but as a bridge, something shifts.

It’s no longer about who’s right.

It’s about what’s real.

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3. When Things Get Heated

Conflict isn’t always calm—and that’s okay.

But if we want resolution, we have to understand the nervous system, too.

• When you’re being attacked

Defensiveness is not weakness—it’s protection.

If someone is making you wrong over and over without meeting you in shared vulnerability, that’s not a relationship. That’s control.

Take a break. Reground. Come back when both hearts are open.

• When you’ve caused harm

Don’t wait for perfect words. Don’t intellectualize your apology.

Show up. Be real. Say, “I see now that what I said/did hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Then ask, “What does repair look like for you?”

• When blame takes over

Blame often shows up when we’re craving accountability, but don’t know how to ask for it.

Peel back the anger. Beneath it is a need—to be seen, respected, heard, safe.

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4. Designing a New Path Forward

The goal of conflict isn’t to rewind.

It’s to redesign.

When two people are willing to take ownership of their part, stay open to one another’s truth, and co-create new agreements—that is sacred.

That is love in action.

And when they’re not?

You’re allowed to walk away.

Not all relationships are meant to continue.

Some were only ever meant to teach us how to stand in our truth.

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5. Conflict Is a Spiritual Skill

We are not here to win every argument.

We are here to learn how to stay open—especially when it’s hard.

To hold both accountability and compassion.

To say the hard thing with love, and receive it with grace.

Conflict isn’t a failure.

It’s a fire. And what survives that fire is real.