Growing up in a family where harmonicas doubled as dinner entertainment and singing your feelings was just another Tuesday, you’d think I’d be fearless. But for most of my life, there was one thing that made my heart race faster than a banjo at a bluegrass festival: confrontation. Yep, the big, scary C-word—confrontation. The very idea of disagreeing openly, of “raising my voice” (aka speaking at a normal human volume when I’m upset), sent me spiraling into a mess of avoidance so artful it could’ve been framed and hung up at the Frist Art Museum.
But as with any great country song, life has a way of forcing you to face your fears, especially when love, heartbreak, or even just day-to-day relationships are involved. I knew I couldn’t run forever—not if I wanted honest connections. And, let’s face it, pretending everything's fine when it’s not? Well, that’s a surefire way to orchestrate your very own emotional Grand Ole Opry meltdown.
Let me tell you how I went from avoidance virtuoso to (slightly shaky) confrontation maestro. Spoiler: There were tears, there were snacks, and there were a few crumpled post-it notes.
The Soundtrack of Avoidance
You know when Carrie Underwood sings “Before He Cheats,” and she’s absolutely torching this guy’s metaphorical yard and literal truck? That’s what I wanted to be—clear, powerful, and maybe holding a baseball bat. But instead, I was more like Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me,” tiptoeing around my feelings, hoping telepathic powers would inspire people to just get it without me saying a darn thing.
Why did confrontation terrify me? Maybe it was growing up as the peacekeeper in a house full of music—a missed note or one sharp elbow in a family jam session could escalate quickly. Maybe it was a Southern upbringing, where “bless your heart” and a polite smile often replaced airing grievances outright. Or maybe I just hated the idea of hurting anyone else’s feelings. Unfortunately, the only feelings I was sparing were theirs.
Holding everything in is not noble. It’s not even practical. It’s like trying to sing over a bottle-you’ve-already-shaken-up kind of pressure: eventually, you're gonna pop. And pop I did—the day I realized that my fear of confrontation wasn’t just affecting me but holding back my relationships from the kind of closeness I craved.
The Breaking Point: Or, That Time I Almost Faked Having Plans Forever
My breaking point came during an argument with a close friend—let’s call her “Maggie.” (Maggie, if you’re reading this: hi, love you.) Maggie was amazing—like, Dolly Parton amazing. But she also had a bad habit of showing up late to our plans. She wasn’t an hour-late kind of late; she was finish-an-entire-oat-milk-latte-while-staring-at-the-door kind of late. Every single time.
For years, I rehearsed giving her a friendly nudge about it. What came out, instead, was the same old line: “No worries at all, take your time!” Friends, I was very much worried. I memorized a litany of excuses for why I couldn’t meet up, rather than just admit that feeling like someone’s afterthought hurt me. At its core, this wasn’t about tardiness—it was about needing to feel valued.
Finally, after years of “It’s fine!” handwritten in emotional Sharpie, it wasn’t fine anymore. So I took a little piece of paper, wrote down my feelings, promptly threw it away, rewrote it while crying, and then just… texted her. With trembling hands, I spelled it out: “Hey Maggie, I really love hanging out with you, but it sucks to feel like being late is just normal with us. Can we please figure something out so it feels better for both of us?”
Her response? “OMG, why didn’t you say something? I’m so sorry—it’s not cool, and I’ll do better.” Apparently, I’d spent years stewing over something we fixed in three minutes flat.
Lessons from the Fire: How I Tamed the Confrontation Anxiety Beast
Let me be real: learning to address conflict wasn’t a one-and-done process. It’s taken consistent practice, lots of introspection, and more than one pep-talk-worthy playlist (Dolly, Beyoncé, and the occasional burst of Lizzo). But here are the three lessons I hold onto when facing tough conversations.
1. Think of Conflict as a Duet, Not a Solo
For years, confrontation felt like I’d be standing on stage alone, under a spotlight in a creaky auditorium of judgment. But conflict is rarely a solo act—it’s a duet. It’s not “me versus you”; it’s “us against the challenge.” Reframing conflict as a chance to collaborate, rather than win, helped me feel less like I was bracing for battle.
2. Be Direct, but Keep the Poetry
As a writer, I was convinced everything I said in conflict needed to be wrapped in lyrical language, full of disclaimers like, “You’re so amazing, it’s just that…” PSA: This does not help. Clarity can still be kind. One tip? Write your feelings down first. Practicing sentences like, “I feel hurt when…” or “Could we try…” makes the actual moment feel less scary. Keep it simple, keep it true, and save the figurative language for your diary.
3. Remember: It’s Not About Getting It Perfect
I used to think confrontation needed to be choreographed, like one of those old-school dance-offs at Southern honky-tonks. Turns out, it’s okay if a conversation isn’t perfectly timed or worded. The real success comes when you show up with honesty and a willingness to hear the other person’s tune, even if things feel messy at first. Relationships don’t need perfection; they need effort.
From Fear to Familiar
In the end, my fear of confrontation was about something bigger: the deep, bone-level worry of being misunderstood or rejected. But here’s the truth: you’re allowed to ask for what you need in any relationship, whether that’s a romantic connection, a friendship, or a wild game of charades with your family on Christmas Eve.
Some nights, confrontation still makes me want to run for the nearest exit. But now, instead of hiding, I remind myself that honesty—as scary as it feels—is the key to real connection. Every time I face it, I’m surprised by how beautiful something as simple as mutual understanding can sound.
So, to all my fellow conflict-averse music makers out there: tune your heartstrings. Strum a chord of courage. Give your fear of confrontation the gentle but decisive boot it deserves. Confrontation may not always make for the sweetest melody, but when sung with care, it hits all the right notes.
