“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 it?”
How do they seem so fixed, so connected, so… together?
From where I stood, a certain type of person emerged – someone confident, kind, thoughtful and comfortable in his relationships. And because she enjoyed her relationships, she seemed to enjoy her life.
I was not her.
For a long time, I thought I was the “nice” one in my relationships because I avoided confrontational conversations. But by not saying what I was feeling, I let it come out in other ways.
I remember telling my boyfriend one night that it was good for him to go out with his friends. But then when he went home, I was very angry with him for leaving.
He asked if I was okay, and I said, “I’m fine,” without looking at him or making eye contact. I kept slamming my drawers shut and making comments under my breath like “it must be nice to go out without me.”
What I wanted to say was, “Can you go out with your friends the other night because I wanted to be there and watch a movie together,” but it was too hard to ask directly, so I complained instead.
I wanted to be the “cool girl”—easy, boring, low maintenance. But the truth was, I was pretending. Many things bothered me. I just didn’t know how to say it. And that unspoken frustration leaked out in the way I showed it—with tension, distance, and defensiveness.
This was who I thought I was.
And since I didn’t know any different, I didn’t ask.
Then everything changed.
My first love was gone, and I knew the world had disappeared.
Even though I was walking the same street, everything looked different. What once seemed important—keeping in touch with friends and family, eating, what to eat, what to wear, work—is no longer important.
I remember lying on my floor, surrounded by tissues, realizing something I had never understood before: No one could take away my pain and make it better for me.
If I’m going to survive – if I’m going to find a way through this – I have to do it myself.
So I started looking.
I took the class. I used to go to seminars. I read everything I could get my hands on. And one theme keeps appearing over and over: We experience our lives the way we communicate.
Eventually, I found myself at a writing and meditation workshop at the Shambhala Center in New York. It was there that I learned how to meditate, the first time I sat with myself without judgment and evaluation, and right speech – speaking in a way that is true, kind and supportive.
Something clicked.
I began to see that my suffering wasn’t just coming from what happened to me—it was also coming from my thoughts, my emotions, and the way I related to other people. The overthinking, the emotional reactivity, the constant inner tension—they weren’t a defining part of who I was. They were patterns.
And patterns can change.
If I wanted to change my life, I had to change how I attended to it—how I spoke, how I listened, how I related to myself and others.
So I treated it like a test.
What if I practice speaking honestly, kindly and clearly?
I remember how nervous I was when my friend asked me how I felt about the guy she was seeing. Normally, I’d say I thought she was cute and I’d be happy if she was, even though quietly inside I felt the opposite.
Instead, I looked at him. I paused. And I knew my intentions were honest, 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 become defensive. He only thought for a moment about what I said.
Every morning, I would wake up and set an intention for how I wanted the day to unfold for myself and others. It was a gentle intention, knowing that I would probably stray from it, and my job was to notice when I strayed, acknowledge it, and bring my attention back to my purpose.
At first, it was not easy. It means when I want to shut down or repress and instead express myself and what’s really going on for me.
It means learning how to pause so that I can stop myself from reacting in a way that is not helpful to me or the other person.
It means noticing the urge to lie and telling the truth instead—even when it feels uncomfortable or scary.
It means noticing how unkindly I’m talking to myself and seeing if I can be more polite and friendly instead.
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 become manageable. Even conflict—something I avoided at all costs—became an opportunity for connection rather than conflict.
I remember a moment where I started being passive-aggressive and got off with one of my friends, and they looked at me and said, “You’re acting like a child.” Before, I would really dig my heels in, defend myself and say something hurtful. But instead, I looked at them and said, “You’re right.”
It was the most liberating moment for me, and because of it, the tension dissipated and we were able to enjoy our time together.
This habit didn’t just change the way I communicate—it changed my relationships.
I found myself able to enter into a new relationship with openness and honesty. I experienced what healthy communication really looks like.
Because of this work, I respond more thoughtfully to my children with more patience and awareness. I’m not perfect—far from it—but I’m present in a way I’ve never been before
And perhaps most importantly, it changed how I related to myself. I don’t judge and evaluate myself as often as I used to. I can see myself through a friendly lens, meaning I want to find out for myself and make choices that are helpful rather than harmful.
I can be human and sensitive and make mistakes without beating myself up and thinking I need to be better, different or fixed. I now have a permission and an acceptance of my best and my worst that I didn’t have before.
I realize that people who think they “have it together” aren’t magically different. They are practicing. They are choosing – over and over – how they want to show up
Communicating intentionally in our relationships allows us to enjoy life and is a learned habit. This is not something that just happens. It’s something we cultivate.
It is a daily practice to be present. Noticing what we engage with internally and externally and choosing what we want to feed on.
It’s choosing to be kind when it’s easy to be reactive.
To tell the truth, when silence would be more comfortable.
To be supportive when we are defensive or fearful.
Mindfulness has given me the tools to pause in difficult moments—to ground myself, come back to my body, and respond instead of 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 Why Cynthia?
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 blends Buddhist wisdom, mindfulness practices, and practical communication tools to help people communicate more intentionally with themselves and others. He is the author of four books, his latest The Break Principle: How to keep your cool in tough situations. meet him cynthiakane.com.
