“When we avoid difficult conversations, we trade short-term discomfort for long-term dysfunction.” ~Peter Bromberg
Have you ever looked around at other people’s lives and wondered:How do they do this?”
How do they seem so solid, so connected, so…together?
From where I stood, there seemed to be a certain type of person—someone confident, kind, thoughtful, and calm in their relationships. And because he enjoyed his relationships, he seemed to enjoy his life.
It wasn’t me.
For a long time, I thought I was the “nice” one in my relationships because I avoided confrontational conversations. But because I didn’t say what I felt, I let it come out in other ways.
I remember one night I told my boyfriend that it was good for him to go out with his friends. But then when he got home I was really mad at him for leaving.
He asked if I was okay and I said “I’m fine” while not looking at him or making eye contact. I closed my drawers loudly and made comments like “It would be nice to go out without me” under my breath.
I wanted to say, “You could go out with your friends one more night because I wanted to stay in and watch a movie together,” but it was too difficult to ask directly, so I complained instead.
I wanted to be the “cool girl” – easygoing, carefree, low maintenance. But the truth was, I pretended. A lot of things bothered me. I just didn’t know how to say it. And that unspoken frustration seeped out in the way I showed up—tense, aloof, and defensive.
This was who I thought I was.
And since I didn’t know anything else, I didn’t question it.
Then everything changed.
My first love passed away and the world as I knew it disappeared.
Although I walked the same streets, everything looked different. What was once considered important—maintaining relationships with friends and family, eating, eating, dressing, working—no longer mattered.
I remember lying on the floor surrounded by tissues and realizing something I had never understood before: no one could take my pain away and make it better for me.
If I want to live on—if I want to find a way out of this—I should do it myself.
So I started looking.
I went to classes. I attended seminars. I read everything I could get my hands on. And one theme appeared again and again: the way we communicate shapes our lives.
I ended up attending a writing and meditation workshop at a Shambhala center in New York. It was there that I learned to meditate, which was the first time I sat with myself without judgment or evaluation, and learned the Buddhist principles of right speech—honest, kind, and helpful speech.
Something clicked.
I began to see that my suffering was not only caused by what happened to me, but also by the way I related to my thoughts, emotions, and other people. The overthinking, the emotional reactivity, the constant internal tension – these were not permanent parts of who I was. There were samples.
And patterns can vary.
If I wanted to change my life, I had to change how I appeared in it—how I spoke, how I listened, how I related to myself and others.
So I treated it as an experiment.
What would happen if I practiced speaking honestly, kindly, and clearly?
I remember how upset I was when my friend asked me how I felt about the guy she was seeing. Normally, I would have said that I thought it was nice and that I was happy about it, but inside I quietly felt the opposite.
Instead, I looked at him. I took a break. And I knew my intention was to be honest and kind and helpful, so I said, ‘I think you deserve someone who’s really kind to you and supports you, and I don’t see that from him.’ The conversation didn’t explode; he didn’t get defensive. He thought about what I said for a moment.
I woke up every morning and set my intention for how I wanted to show up for myself and others that day. It was a gentle intention, knowing that I would probably deviate from it, and it was my job to notice when I strayed, 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 yell and instead express myself and what was really going on with me.
This meant learning how to pause to stop myself from reacting in a way that was not helpful to me or the other person.
It meant noticing the urge to lie and telling the truth instead—even if it felt uncomfortable or scary.
It meant noticing how unkindly I was talking to myself, and rather whether I could become gentler and friendlier.
And slowly things started to change.
I became less passive-aggressive and less judgmental. My anxiety eased. I began to express myself more clearly and directly. Conversations that once seemed overwhelming have become manageable. Even confrontation – which I previously avoided at all costs – has become an opportunity for connection rather than conflict.
I remember having a moment where I became passive-aggressive and locked up with a friend and they looked at me and said, “You’re acting like a child.” Before, I would have really dug my heels in, defended myself and said something hurtful. But instead I looked at them and said, “You’re right.”
It was the most liberating moment for me and it lifted the tension and we were able to enjoy our time together.
This practice not only changed the way I communicated, but also my relationships.
I was able to enter a new relationship openly and honestly. I experienced what healthy communication really looks like.
Thanks to this work, I respond to my children more thoughtfully, with greater patience and awareness. I’m not perfect—far from it—but I’m present like never before.
And perhaps most importantly, my relationship with myself has changed. I don’t judge and evaluate myself as often as I used to. I see myself through a friendly lens, which means I want to look after myself and make decisions that are helpful, not hurtful.
I will be human and emotional and make mistakes without beating myself up and thinking I need to be better or different or improved. I am now allowed and accepted to be who I am at my best and worst, which was not the case before.
I’ve come to understand that people who seem to “have it all together” aren’t magically different. They practice. They choose how they want to appear over and over again.
Intentional communication in our relationships allows us to enjoy our lives and is a learned practice. It’s not something that just happens. It’s something we cultivate.
The daily practice of presence. To notice what we are dealing with – internally and externally – and choose what we want to nurture.
Choosing kindness when it would be easier to respond.
To be honest, when would it be more convenient to remain silent.
Being helpful when we feel defensive or afraid.
Mindfulness gave me the tools to pause in difficult moments—to ground myself, return to my body, and respond rather than react.
And in that place I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for:
To live – and speak – to feel true.
About Cynthia Kane
Cynthia Kane is a communication coach, mindfulness teacher, and bestselling author who helps people stay calm, clear, and kind in difficult conversations. He has helped more than 70,000 people through his books, courses, workshops and training programs. Cynthia combines Buddhist wisdom, mindfulness practices, and practical communication tools to help people communicate more consciously with themselves and others. Author of four books, the latest The principle of the break: How to keep your cool in difficult situations. Visit it at cynthiakane.com.
