What If We Could Learn from Conflict…

I’ve felt the need to write about human conflict for quite some time now. Around this time last year, I tried to put my reflections on paper, but I never managed to arrive at something that felt right. I think I was too afraid of being judged—especially by those close to me—when addressing such a delicate subject. So I chose to listen to my fear rather than to my courage.

Tonight, I chose courage. Because my inner voice whispered that it was necessary.

The roles we take on

I have lived through—and observed—enough conflict to have learned, over time, to approach it differently. When I was younger, I learned to avoid conflict, to see it as something negative. Expressing emotions was not encouraged, and at a very young age, I quickly found myself stepping into the role of mediator—or even psychologist—as a way of coping with that reality.

Even today, I sometimes slip back into those roles too easily, as they are deeply rooted in my psyche. In fact, this behaviour is “normal”: we all take on certain roles within our families. Some become peacemakers, others scapegoats, or perhaps the devil’s advocate. Whatever role we played as a child, sibling, or family member, chances are we will reproduce it later on—as parents, or in other areas of our lives.

Avoidance and its consequences

This brief detour helps me better explain my personal journey with conflict. I remember how overwhelming the very idea of addressing a delicate situation felt—or even simply expressing my emotions or thoughts, whether in my personal or professional life. It caused me deep anxiety.

I would create fictional scenarios in my head, anticipating what the other person might say or do. And I’m ashamed to admit it, but I lost many hours of sleep because of that anxiety—often imaginary. This avoidance only made things worse: not only was I keeping everything inside, but I was also blaming myself for what I might have done, said, or failed to do.

It became a true vicious cycle, harmful to my health. When we don’t express our emotions and thoughts, they don’t disappear—they accumulate. And if you’re anything like me, you compartmentalize them, tucking them away into neatly organized drawers that only open under the pressure of a trigger. Rarely at the right moment.

Learning to take responsibility—without carrying the other

My perception of conflict has evolved over the years, notably through the support of several health professionals. I learned that what truly matters is expressing how I feel in a given situation, and taking responsibility for how I communicate that—calmly and respectfully.

As for everything else that used to cause me so much anxiety? I eventually understood that it wasn’t mine to carry. I cannot take responsibility for the other person’s reaction. That reaction belongs to them. It may be painful or different from what I hoped for, but that is part of the procesDeux chaises en bois vides, côte à côte sur une colline, tournées vers l’horizon sous un ciel dégagé, évoquant le silence, la réflexion et l’espace nécessaire au dialogue et à l’apprentissage du conflit.s.

When our intentions are sincere, aligned with our values, and when we choose to assert ourselves rather than bury our emotions—emotions we know will resurface sooner or later—there is already a sense of easing within us.

Another way of inhabiting conflict

One person, in particular, deeply influenced my understanding of conflict: Monique Gallie, a Chartered Professional in Human Resources and professional mediator whom I met while pursuing a postgraduate diploma in contemporary management. Monique quite literally lives at the heart of conflict. She intervenes in extremely delicate situations, sometimes even seemingly hopeless ones.

Without giving away the “punch” of her course, I can say that her approach helped me stop fearing conflict—and, above all, equipped me with concrete tools to move through it with greater confidence when it arises.

Conflict as a space for growth

Today, I no longer see conflict as a negative experience. I see it as an opportunity for learning—about myself and about others. As a chance for connection, for building deeper relationships with those involved.

I also see it as a moment of truth, one that can break the silence around a given situation. Because living in unspoken truths is never a better option.

Of course, like everyone else, I would prefer not to experience conflict. But I now know that avoiding it would only hinder my personal growth. Having consciously chosen to continue learning and becoming the best version of myself possible, I approach conflict differently today.

And my life is infinitely better for it.

Conflict isn’t always a rupture. Sometimes, it’s a space to inhabit.