Often, we know ourselves less than we think.
We know what we're doing, what we have to do, what others expect from us, but we don't stop often enough to ask ourselves: What do I feel? What do I want? What is important to me? What makes me, me?
Meeting oneself doesn't mean having all the answers. Rather, it means giving ourselves time to ask the questions, and being honest with what we discover.
It is a process of getting closer to ourselves, with everything we are: with our emotions, with our vulnerabilities, with our limitations, with our desires, with the things we are proud of and with those we are still learning to accept.
Because, often, a good relationship with others begins with the relationship we have with ourselves.
Hoping that the invitation to meet yourselves, through the previous articles, has reached you, I propose that, going forward, we travel together on the path of meeting the other.
Meeting the other is, in its turn, a journey. A journey that helps us experience and understand what happens to us and within us when we enter into a relationship with the other: how we remain connected and present both within ourselves and in the relationship.
Because truly meeting the other means more than being in a relationship with them. It means being curious, listening, trying to understand, and making room for their perspective too.
Without losing ourselves, however.
The first topic we will address is conflict.
Conflict arises when two people disagree. It is natural and part of any relationship – in family, in a couple, at work, or between friends.
Often, we try to avoid conflict, for fear of damaging the relationship. Other times, we react in the moment: we say things out of anger, raise our voice, or withdraw into ourselves. None of these options truly help. Unsaid things or those spoken in a harsh tone accumulate, and over time can create distance, mistrust, and resentment.
But what if we looked at conflict from another perspective?
A well-managed conflict doesn't mean an argument. It means a sincere discussion about what bothers us, about what we feel, and about what we need. It means being able to say: „I didn't feel good”, „What happened hurt me”, „I would like something else” or „I need you to listen to me”, without all of this turning into an attack on the other.
Equally important is to listen.
Not to prepare our answer or to prove we are right, but to try to understand what the other feels and where their perspective comes from, even when we don't agree with it.
Because, sometimes, behind a conflict there aren't just two different opinions. There are two needs, two fears, two vulnerabilities, or two different ways of seeing and experiencing the same situation.
Perhaps that's why conflict isn't about who is right. It's about what happens between us when we no longer see things the same way. And, especially, about what we choose to do in that moment. Do we choose to distance ourselves? Do we choose to defend ourselves at all costs? Do we choose to stay silent and accumulate grievances? Or do we choose to remain in the relationship, listen to each other, and seek a way to move forward together?
Perhaps the real question isn't whether we will have conflicts, but how we choose to be in conflict.
...But what if the other person can't?
There is, however, a less comfortable part of this story.
We may want dialogue and not be able to have it. We may try to listen, and the other person may not be able to listen. We may talk about what we feel, and the other person may only hear what confirms their own perspective. We may try to find a solution, and the other person may remain in a fight, on the defensive, or in the need to be right.
And then a difficult, but necessary, question arises:
What do I do when the other person can no longer or no longer wants to build with me?
Because a conflict cannot be transformed into an encounter by oneself. It takes two people willing to stop, listen, reflect, and take responsibility for their part. I can choose my words. I can adjust my tone. I can listen. I can try to understand. I can acknowledge my part. I can set boundaries.
But I cannot listen for the other person. I cannot reflect for them. I cannot build for them.
And perhaps this is one of the most important encounters with ourselves: to understand the difference between what is within our control and what is no longer within our control.
Sometimes, staying in a conflict indefinitely, hoping we can resolve it ourselves, means losing ourselves in an attempt to save the relationship. And here, conflict can become the outcome.
Not because every conflict should lead to separation. Not because differences between people cannot be overcome. Nor because the one who gives up is necessarily the one who lost. But because there are situations where, despite one partner's willingness, the other cannot or will not participate in the process of repairing and building the relationship. In such moments, setting a boundary can be healthier than continuing the fight.
Sometimes, the outcome is not the failure of a relationship. It can be the recognition of a reality:
“I did my part. I tried to meet you, but we can no longer meet here.”
And perhaps this, too, is an act of relational maturity.
To know when to stay.
To know when to speak.
To know when to listen.
But also to know when to stop.
Because the relationship with the other should not require us to give up the relationship with ourselves.
Therefore, conflict can be an opportunity. An opportunity to say what we haven't said until then. An opportunity to discover something new about ourselves. An opportunity to get to know the other better. An opportunity to set boundaries. An opportunity to repair. An opportunity to draw closer.
But, sometimes, conflict can also be the outcome.
And between the two, there is no universal recipe. However, there are questions we can ask ourselves:
Have I been truly present in this relationship?
Have I said what I needed to say without attacking?
Did I listen, or did I just wait for my turn?
Did I take responsibility for my part?
Is the other person willing to take responsibility for their part?
Is a "together" still possible here?
And, if it no longer exists, can I accept this without losing myself?
Perhaps true maturity is not to avoid conflicts, nor to win them.
But to learn to recognize when conflict is an invitation to connect and when it is a signal that the relationship has reached the end of its possibilities.
Because sometimes conflict opens a door.
And other times it shows us that we must have the courage to close it.
May you have an enlightened mind!
Daniela Costache
Personal and Educational Development Counselor
Photos by Vitaly Gariev / pexels.com