“Avoiding difficult conversations trades short-term discomfort for long-term dysfunction.” ~Peter Bromberg
Have you ever looked at other people’s lives and wondered, “How do they live?”
Why do they seem so stable and so connected?
From my perspective, he seemed like a certain type of person: confident, kind, thoughtful, and secure in relationships. And she seemed to be enjoying life because she enjoyed relationships.
I wasn’t her.
For a long time, I thought I was the “good” person in relationships because I avoided confrontational conversations. But since I hadn’t put my feelings into words, I decided to express them in a different way.
I remember telling my boyfriend one night that it was okay to go out with friends. But when he came home, I was very angry that he left.
He asked me if I was okay and I said “I’m okay” without looking at him or making eye contact. I slammed the drawer shut and kept saying things under my breath like, “I bet you’re happy to go out without me.”
What I wanted to say was, “Can you please go out one more night so I can stay with my friends and watch a movie together?” But it was difficult to ask him directly, so I complained.
I wanted to be a “cool girl” – an easy-going, hassle-free, hassle-free woman. But the truth is, I was just pretending. Many things bothered me. But I didn’t know what to say. And that unspoken frustration leaked out into my appearance: tension, distance, and defensiveness.
This was exactly who I thought I was.
And I didn’t question it because I didn’t know what it was.
Then everything changed.
My first love died and the world I knew disappeared.
Even though we were walking on the same road, everything looked different. Things that once felt important, such as maintaining relationships with friends and family, eating, what to eat, what to wear, and work, are no longer important.
I remember lying on the floor surrounded by tissues and realizing something I had never understood before. That no one can take away my pain and make it better.
If I want to stay alive and find a way to get through this situation, I’m going to have to do it myself.
So I started looking.
I took a class. I went to a seminar. I read everything I could get my hands on. And one theme kept coming up again and again. That is, the way we communicate shapes our experience of life.
I ended up attending a writing and meditation workshop at the Shambhala Center in New York. There I learned how to meditate. For the first time, I faced myself without judgment or evaluation and learned the Buddhist principles of proper speaking: speaking in a way that is truthful, kind, and helpful.
Something clicked.
I began to understand that my suffering didn’t just come from what happened to me, but also from my thoughts, feelings, and how I interacted with others. Overthinking, emotional reactions, and constant inner tension were not fixed parts of who I was. They were patterns.
And patterns can change.
If I wanted to change my life, I needed to change the way I showed up in it: the way I spoke, the way I listened, the way I related to myself and others.
So I treated it like an experiment.
What would happen if you practiced speaking honestly, kindly, and clearly?
I remember being so nervous when a friend asked me what I thought about the guy I was dating. Normally I would say that I thought he was nice and that I would be happy if she did, but deep down I quietly felt the opposite.
Instead, I looked at her. I paused. And because I knew my intentions were to be honest, kind, and helpful, I said, “I think you deserve someone who will treat you really nice and support you, and I don’t see that from him.” The conversation didn’t blow up. She didn’t get defensive. She just thought about what I said.
I woke up every morning and set goals for myself and others about how I wanted that day to go. It was a gentle intention that I knew I was likely to stray from, and my job was to notice when I strayed from it, acknowledge it, and bring my attention back to my intention.
It wasn’t easy at first. It meant noticing when I wanted to shut down or rant and instead express myself and what was really going on with me.
It meant learning how to pause so I could stop reactions that weren’t helpful to me or others.
It meant recognizing the desire to lie and telling the truth instead, even if it felt uncomfortable and scary.
It meant realizing how unkindly I was speaking to myself and thinking about whether I could be kinder and more friendly instead.
And slowly, things began to change.
I am less passive-aggressive and less critical. My anxiety eased. I started expressing myself more clearly and directly. Conversations that were once overwhelming have become more manageable. Even conflicts that I previously avoided at all costs have become opportunities for connection rather than confrontation.
I remember the moment I started becoming passive-aggressive and shutting myself off from friends. Once they looked at me and said, “You’re acting like a child.” In the past, I would have really dug my heels in and defended myself and said things that were hurtful. But instead, I looked at them and said, “You’re right.”
That was the most liberating moment for me and it allowed me to release my tension and have fun together.
This habit not only changed the way I communicate, it also changed my relationships.
I realized that I could approach new relationships with openness and honesty. I actually experienced what healthy communication looks like.
This job has made me more thoughtful and more patient and aware when dealing with children. I’m not perfect, I’m far from perfect, but I’m here now in a way I’ve never been before.
And perhaps most importantly, it changed the way I relate to myself. I don’t judge or evaluate myself as often as I used to. I can see myself through a gentle lens. In other words, you want to take care of yourself and make choices that help rather than hurt.
I learned to be human, emotional, and make mistakes without blaming myself or thinking I should be better, different, or fixed. I now have the ability to tolerate and accept myself at my best and at my worst, which I never had before.
I’ve come to understand that people who seem to “have it all” don’t magically change. they are practicing. They are choosing over and over again how they want to show up.
Communicating intentionally in your relationships gives you the opportunity to enjoy life, and it’s a learned habit. It doesn’t just happen. It’s something we cultivate.
It’s about practicing being present every day. It’s about being aware of what we engage with internally and externally and choosing what we want to nourish.
You are choosing to be kind when it would be easier to be reactive.
To be honest, sometimes it’s more comfortable to stay silent.
To help when we are feeling defensive or fearful.
Mindfulness has given me the tools to pause in difficult moments, ground myself, return to my body, and react rather than react.
And in that space, I found something I didn’t know I was looking for.
A way of living and speaking that feels true.
About Cynthia Kane
Cynthia Cain is a communication coach, mindfulness teacher, and best-selling author who helps people stay calm, clear, and kind during difficult conversations. She has helped over 70,000 people through her books, courses, workshops, and training programs. Cynthia combines Buddhist wisdom, mindfulness practices, and practical communication tools to help people communicate more intentionally with themselves and others. She is the author of four books, her latest being The Pause Principle: How to Keep Your Cool in Tough Things. Visit her at cynthiakane.com.
