@CONFUSED: I work under a few leaders whose decisions often leave me uneasy. Sometimes it’s how they favor certain people. Other times, it’s the way they shut down ideas that don’t come from them. I see better ways of doing things. But I’ve learned to keep quiet because speaking up can easily be labeled as being difficult or disrespectful. Learned it the hard way. The truth is, I’m not trying to challenge authority. I just want things to make sense, to be fair, transparent and consistent with what we say we stand for. It’s confusing. How do you stay true to your principles without burning bridges? How do you disagree gracefully with leaders who don’t really want to listen? Or should I just learn to accept that not every fight is worth fighting?
DJ: The first thing I suggest might sting a little — learn to live with the reality that not everyone will understand you. You’re not a spirit needing closure. Not everyone will like you either. That’s okay. Even ice cream has haters, and it’s literally sweet.
Being surrounded by noise that doesn’t speak your language can make silence feel even louder. But people can only meet you from where they stand. Not where you are. The sooner you stop needing everyone to get you, the easier life feels. Some people are just meant to see you pass by and think, “Huh, interesting.”
When you’re misinterpreted, breathe. I know it’s easier said than done. But really, it’s not always about you. Sometimes they’re just seeing through their own filters or, worse, their haunted mirrors. So instead of defending yourself, try asking: “What did they see or hear that led them there?” Sometimes, it’s an opportunity to communicate better, not to compromise truth. I’m still a work in progress. But today, I consciously respond to misjudgment with curiosity, not defensiveness. It disarms hostility and strengthens emotional resilience.
Someone once told me tolerance isn’t built in a crisis. True — it’s built in calm moments. So now I practice pausing for a few seconds before reacting in meetings, in conversations, in chats. It’s best to grow this muscle early, before you need it to stop yourself from turning into a full-blown werewolf when someone CCs the whole planet. The brain rewires itself through repetition. Emotional restraint becomes muscle memory. And before you know it, your stillness scares more people than your roar.
As your influence grows, brace yourself. Some people will project their fears and frustrations onto you. It comes with the territory. When people start talking behind your back, it’s not always a bad sign. It also means you’re becoming visible. You’re worth their time and emotion. Think of Taylor Swift, who turned public hate into a billion-dollar art. Criticism can feel chilling. But it’s also proof that you’re standing where no one else dares to. And it’s in those lonely, awkward spaces where the best ideas and the strongest leaders emerge.
You plant, water, grow and nurture. Trust the process. Pretty much like farming. The slow pace protects you from arrogance. It teaches patience and discernment. I know it’s easier to crave visible proof of impact. But if my impression of your depth is right, your magic isn’t about likes or hearts. It’s in meaning. So measure progress instead by the strength of its roots. And when your time comes, the dent you make won’t be noise. It’ll be a change.
You don’t need a crowd. You just need a few who remind you who you are when the noise gets too loud. Not the ones who only show up when there’s free candy. People who tell you the truth without making you doubt yourself. They’re your anchor when criticism gets personal. And you’ll know you’ve grown when you no longer feel the need to explain yourself to everyone, because your peace speaks louder than words.