I Thought I Was Protecting My Peace, But I Was Just Avoiding Conflict

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I Thought I Was Protecting My Peace, But I Was Just Avoiding Conflict

“Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky, but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable.” ~Brené Brown

If the title of this post gets under your skin, don’t worry, it gets under mine, too. I have a fierce aversion to conflict. That doesn’t mean I won’t engage in it, but it does mean that I’m very open to any suggestion that might give me license to not engage in it.

So, when I learned the phrase “protect your peace,” I found myself particularly drawn to it.

The concept of protecting your peace is one of conflict avoidance. It connotes the idea that some arguments are not worth having, and some people are just not worth arguing with.

Protecting your peace, in those cases, means choosing to disengage for the sake of your sanity. You end the conversation, block their number, and go no contact.

And believe me when I say there are literally so many circumstances in which this is the correct and proper route to take. I refuse to waste my breath on someone who isn’t listening—particularly if they’re also committed to causing me pain. I have found protecting my peace in those cases to be a very effective tool that I wield generously.

That said, l do sometimes wonder if the idea of protecting my peace has become an excuse to avoid any conflict—even the kind that I probably need to address head-on. It’s just so damn seductive to think of never having to tangle with other people. If someone hurts or disrespects me, I get to protect my peace!

I can just walk away without acknowledging what they did. I can even feel good about it because I’m protecting my peace, after all.

But what lesson am I teaching myself and others when I do that? What message does it send when I allow the idea of “protecting my peace” to turn me into a doormat for other people to step on? At what point does protecting my peace become disrespecting myself?

Almost three years ago, my husband and I separated and were on the brink of divorce. Our marriage had been through too many hardships for one couple to bear, and the anger and resentment we’d built up toward each other was destroying the steady love we once shared. We weren’t sure if separating could save the marriage, but we decided to give it a try.

During the six months we were separated, we both spent a lot of time in therapy confronting the ways we were both showing up negatively in the relationship. For me, it was stuffing my feelings and exploding later instead of speaking about them when they were still manageable.

In the name of “keeping the peace” I was fostering resentment, hostility, and even fury. My refusal to communicate my needs and feelings was poisoning both me and my marriage from the inside out.

What kept me silent was a simple yet devastating truth: I believed that speaking my needs and standing up for myself when things were difficult made me a cantankerous or difficult person. Perhaps, if I’m really honest, I didn’t think anyone would want to put up with me if I came with expectations—if I insisted on being treated the way I deserve.

So, I gulped down the burning tonic of hurt and disappointment and called it “protecting my peace.” Doing otherwise would have meant stirring up “conflict,” and if I created conflict, then why would my husband (or anyone, really) want to put up with me? By avoiding conflict, I could carry on pretending like everything was fine while I built a wall of resentment, one brick at a time, between me and the person I loved most in the world.

A very hard lesson I’ve only just begun learning is that sometimes standing up for myself is the route to peace. Sometimes holding people accountable for their behavior is how I teach them and myself what I’m worth. While avoiding conflict might feel good in the short term, in the long term it can have disastrous consequences for my self-esteem.

I can attest firsthand that it already has.

Not only that; extreme conflict avoidance can also affect my social well-being. Although conflict is never pleasant, conflict resolution can be very pleasant indeed. It’s what allows me to reclaim relationships, heal wounds, and grow together with the people I love instead of apart. If I let myself become too rigid in my conflict avoidance, I only stand to alienate ourselves from others. This is a lesson that, if I hadn’t begun learning sooner, would have cost me my marriage.

I am learning, slowly but surely, how to articulate my difficult feelings. I’m finally summoning the courage to say the hard things, to speak up when I’m hurt or upset, and to clearly and kindly say what I need instead.

In doing so, I am watching my relationships begin to thrive like never before. Most importantly, both through this work and the work my husband has done in his approach to our relationship, we have saved our marriage.

It’s not always easy. In fact, sometimes speaking up creates more discomfort in the short term than stuffing things down like I used to. But for once, I am finally showing up fully and authentically.

I have stopped swallowing poison and instead have begun giving myself the healing salve of self-expression. Despite the momentary discomfort that comes with allowing conflicts to come to the surface, the long-term joy of conflict resolution and mutual understanding always wins out.

I guess, like most things, protecting our peace without avoiding healthy conflict and dialogue is about finding balance (which, I’m learning, is a skill we appear to be losing as a society). We have to learn when to protect our peace, when to stand our ground, and how to know the difference between the two. For now, I have a few questions I ask myself when deciding which path to take.

This list of questions needs further thinking and perhaps some retooling, but here’s what I’ve got so far:

1) Is this person someone I want to remain in a relationship with?

2) Do I trust this person to listen to me if I share how they made me feel?

3) Do I think there might be long-term damage to my self-esteem and self-image if I let this go unaddressed?

4) Is it safe for me to engage in this conflict?

If the answer to these questions is yes, I will summon the courage to engage in the conflict. I know that the conflict still might not be resolved, but at least I’ve done my best. If the answer to these questions is no, I am better off protecting my peace and walking away.

Maybe I’ll schedule a phone call with a trusted friend or a session with my therapist to talk through my feelings about the situation. At least then I will get some validation and empathy, which will help me keep my self-esteem intact. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but with time, I do think having a system in place will help me find a balanced approach to handling conflict.

I owe it to myself to try. And so do you, dear reader.