When I Stopped Explaining
Editor’s note: This is written from my current vantage point
Welcome, curious minds and kind hearts, to Think Again, this month’s series exploring the power of curiosity and alignment by questioning old assumptions, embracing uncertainty, trusting ourselves, and letting go of what no longer fits so we can become more like ourselves.
Let me start by asking you this: Have you ever found tousled replaying a conversation in your head, wishing you had said one more thing? Maybe you remembered an important detail later or felt a strong need to explain yourself one last time, hoping that if you could only find the right words, the other person would finally understand?
If so, you may relate to today’s post, When I Stopped Explaining.
For most of my life, I believed that open, honest communication could resolve almost any problem. I believed that if people were willing to listen, ask questions, and understand one another, there was always a path forward.
And eventually, that belief was put to the test. A few years ago, during a situation that would go on to change my life. How so? After opening up about something that had been happening for quite some time, I found myself constantly remembering additional details after the conversation had ended. It wasn’t because I was trying to change my story or convince anyone to agree with me. I simply wanted to be as honest and accurate as possible. If I remembered something I’d forgotten, I wanted to share it. If I realized I hadn’t explained something clearly, I wanted to clarify it.
My hope wasn’t to be right, it was to create understanding.
Yet instead of feeling acknowledged for speaking up about something difficult, I often felt misunderstood, discouraged, and dismissed.
At first, I assumed the problem was my communication. Maybe I hadn’t explained myself clearly enough. Maybe I had forgotten something important. Maybe I left out a detail that would finally help everything make sense.
So I replayed conversations over and over again, searching for what I had missed. I questioned my memory, my intentions, and eventually even my own experience. The more my perspective was dismissed or questioned, the more I began to wonder if I was the one missing something.
Looking back, I realize how exhausting that was.
Then, with time, something shifted.
I realized that it wasn’t that I needed better words. It was that we had entered the conversation with different intentions.
I came into those conversations hoping we could better understand one another. I wanted to hear their perspective just as much as I wanted mine to be heard. I wanted to learn. To become more aware. To understand what I could do differently if needed.
For a long time, I believed that better communication naturally led to better understanding. But from what I’ve learned, it’s that understanding requires something else too. A willingness from all involved to remain curious.
And curiosity is something that can’t be forced.
I’ve always believed that conversations are opportunities to learn. Every person carries experiences, perspectives, and knowledge that I don’t have. That’s why I ask questions. Not because I’m looking for a particular answer, but because I genuinely care to understand how someone arrived where they did.
Over time, I realized not everyone approaches conversations that way.
That doesn't make them wrong, and it doesn’t make me right. It simply means we aren’t all seeking the same thing.
And that realization really changed everything for me.
I stopped believing it was my responsibility to keep explaining until someone finally understood me. I realized I could communicate honestly, answer sincere questions, and clarify when it was helpful, but I no longer needed my peace to depend on whether someone else chose to receive it.
Today, I still value honest conversations. I still welcome questions. I still deeply care about understanding other people’s experiences.
What has changed for me the most is that I also trust my own.
I know my intentions. I know my experiences. And I no longer feel responsible for convincing someone who has already decided how they see the situation.
After all, sometimes the most freeing realization isn’t that people finally understand you. It’s realizing that your peace doesn’t have to depend on whether they do.
As we begin this Think Again series, I hope you’ll consider this: What would change if you stopped measuring your peace by someone else’s understanding? Sometimes growth doesn’t come from finding better words, it comes from trusting that you’ve already said enough.
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you ever found yourself replaying a conversation, wishing you had explained yourself differently? Or have you experienced the freedom of realizing you didn’t need to explain yourself anymore?
Be sure to check back this Monday, August 3rd, for the next chapter in the Think Again series, where we’ll explore The Beauty of Not Knowing and how embracing uncertainty can open the door to greater peace, creativity, and self-trust.
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
