Conflicts from Different Angles

I listen to a lot of podcasts. I prefer science or psychology podcasts and non-fiction self-help books based in brain science. For some reason, I can digest complex emotional or scientific concepts in listening format when I am walking much more easily than when I am sitting still, reading from a book. 

The other day I heard someone talking about conflict. The person being interviewed (and I honestly can’t remember if the speaker was male or female or what I was listening to), talked about the concept of conflict of hope versus conflict of despair. I’ve googled the terms “conflict of hope” and “conflict of despair” to try to track down who this enlightened person was but I cannot find any reference. So, in full disclosure, all of what I share today is from memory, extrapolation, and my own interpretation of the concepts.

The speaker talked about the importance of conflict in moving things forward, but explained that there are different ways to approach conflict — from a place of despair or a place of hope. Right away I identified myself as someone who approaches conflict from a place of despair. “Desperare” in Latin means “to be without hope.” When I am in conflict I am often desperate; desperate to make sure my side is heard, my point is made, and my position is known. 

Starting from a despairing place puts a tenor of negativity on any ensuing conversation. Instead of opening up the arena for thoughts and ideas to move back and forth, it creates a desperate situation. Instead of a big green open field, the background of a conflict of despair is like a frightened family batting down the hatches for a hurricane — plywood goes up, sandbags go down, just hide in the corner and wait for it to pass. 

Conflict of hope, on the other hand, starts with a belief in possibility — for change, for connection, for resolution. Rooted in hope, it invites opportunities for truly listening, believing that both sides of the story have value and both parties should be heard. There’s still a conflict but the energy that sets the stage comes with a promise of a collaborative endpoint, an outcome that meets somewhere in the middle, honoring both sides of the story.

This is a new concept for me. I grew up in a dog-eat-dog family and learned the my-way-or-the-highway approach to conflict early in my life. As an adult, especially in intimate relationships, I’ve struggled to embody the concept of hopeful conflict. 

When I heard the comparison of conflict of hope versus conflict of despair something clicked for me. It made sense. I could see myself in my memory, image after image, preparing to discuss a conflict, setting up in my crouched stance, boxing gloves on, cornered and desperate, ready to fight. 

And I could see how I have rarely felt like a winner at the end of a conflict rooted in despair. Even if I “win” I feel bad, like I’ve survived a tornado and have a lot of clean up to do. Instead of feeling resolved, I feel ashamed, unsure of myself. Because conflicts of despair lead to such despair, I’ve avoided having conflicts at all, instead adapting indirect, dysfunctional methods for getting my needs met. And of course that hasn’t worked so well either.

You only know what you know until you know something different. My partner has been telling me for years that she hates having conflict with me because I get so jacked up. She’s right. It’s how I knew how to have conflicts. I didn’t understand that there was a different way. The truth is, conflict of despair sucks. It’s a fast train to feeling like shit — on all sides.

I’m dipping my toes into having conflicts from a place of hope. I’ve had a few and I can feel the difference. Without the desperation of winning the conflict, there are infinite possibilities for resolution. It’s a creative endeavor filled with possibilities. I wish I could remember who shared this wonderful concept with me so I could learn more and tell them thank you. But for now, this loose interpretation is all I’ve got. I hope it helps you as much as it has helped me.