Sometimes it’s kinder to speak up than keep quiet

I

guess you could say I’m like everyone else; I don’t like to have difficult conversations. But I needed to do this. People were relying on me. My boss relied on me. My team relied on me. And my conscience? Let’s just say it wasn’t staying quiet.

I sat at my desk that Tuesday morning of the awkward conversation, staring at my coffee getting cold, knowing exactly what I needed to do. But instead of picking up the phone or walking down the hall, I found myself checking emails that didn’t need checking, organizing files that were already organized.

I understood why I was avoiding having this conversations. Nobody wakes up thinking, “You know what would make my day perfect? A really uncomfortable talk with someone I care about.” We tell ourselves we don’t want to hurt feelings, or we’re afraid of making things worse, or maybe, if we’re really honest, we’re just hoping the problem will somehow fix itself.

But here’s what I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way: Avoiding conversations that need to be had almost always costs more than having it.

Finally, I made a decision that changed everything: I wasn’t going to do anything else until I got this done. No calls. No coffee runs. No busywork.

This conversation was happening today.

Leah had been working for me for about eight months. Sweet girl, really, new baby at home, husband in school full-time. She was carrying the whole financial load on her shoulders. I genuinely felt for her. But for weeks now, she’d been quietly complaining to anyone who’d listen about her hours, her workload, how unfair everything felt. How no one appreciated her.

At first, I figured that everyone vents sometimes. We all need to blow off steam. But then I started noticing things. In team meetings, when Leah would speak up, people would look down at their papers or suddenly find their phones fascinating. Conversations would fizzle out the moment she joined. And the more isolated she felt, the needier she became, which only made things worse.

I watched the whole dynamic spiral, and I realized something that made my stomach drop: I was letting one person’s frustration drag down my entire team. And that wasn’t fair to anyone, not to them, not to her, and honestly, not to me either.

When I sat Leah down, I started with something straight and simple: “I’ve noticed something and wanted to check in with you.” I wasn’t accusatory or dramatic, just curious. Then I did something that completely changed the way I communicate difficult things: I got specific about what I was actually seeing, not what I or others were thinking or feeling about it. I didn’t say “You’re always negative” or “Your attitude is hurting the team” or “People can‘t work with you.” Because you know what happens when you say things like that? The other person immediately goes into defense mode. “Negative attitude? I don’t have a negative attitude!” And once they’re fighting your interpretation, the conversation is over before it starts.

Instead, I listed specific things I’d observed: “I’ve noticed that in meetings, when you speak, people tend to look down at their papers and don’t respond.” And: “Yesterday, when I asked who wanted to work on the Johnson project with you, there was this long pause before anyone volunteered.” And: “I‘ve seen the energy in the room shift when you walk in, conversations kind of trail off.”

Leah paused, really paused, and said something that’s stuck with me ever since: “I didn’t realize people were avoiding me.” She didn’t thank me. She didn’t apologize or promise to change overnight. She just sat there for a long moment, processing what I’d said, then nodded slowly. No big breakthrough moment, no tears. Just... acknowledgment.

And honestly? That was enough.

She hadn’t meant to bring the team down. She was just overwhelmed and drowning, and it was spilling over in ways she couldn’t see. Once we got past that initial introduction, we were able to work out a real plan to help her balance her workload, give her extra support, and check in more.

She didn’t change overnight. The change was gradual: a little less complaining here, a more thoughtful comment in meetings there. But slowly and steadily, it happened.

Was the initial conversation with her uncomfortable? Absolutely. But you know what would have been worse? Letting it fester until either she quit or I had to let her go, all because I was too afraid to have one honest conversation.

I think about this a lot because communication — really honest, clear communication — is something that touches every part of our lives. Parents avoid tough conversations with their kids. Friends dance around issues that are slowly poisoning their relationships. Colleagues let resentment build rather than addressing what’s really bothering them.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is tell someone the truth they need to hear, even when it’s hard to say. Here’s what I’ve learned works, especially if you’re someone who’d rather do just about anything than have a difficult conversation:

Be very specific about what you’ve observed. Don’t say, “You seem angry lately” when what you really mean is, “In the past three meetings, you’ve interrupted people twice and walked out once.” Don’t say, “Your negativity is affecting everyone,” when you could say, “When you said the project was doomed in front of the whole team yesterday, I noticed two people stopped contributing ideas.” Specifics don’t give people room to argue because you’re not attacking their character, you’re just stating what happened.

Be kind and clear at the same time. Kind doesn’t mean vague, and clear doesn’t mean harsh. You can be both when you stick to observations rather than judgments.

Here’s the big one: Don’t wait too long. These conversations don’t age well. They ferment and spoil, and what could have been a simple correction becomes a major intervention.

None of this is easy. Even now, having seen the benefits of upfront conversation, I still feel that familiar knot in my stomach when I realize I need to have one of these talks. But I’ve also experienced the relief, the clarity, the way relationships get stronger when you’re brave enough to be honest.

Here’s my challenge for you: Think of one conversation you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s with someone at work, maybe it’s with a family member at home, maybe it’s with a friend who’s been driving you crazy. This week, don’t wait for the perfect moment or the perfect words. Just start small.

Write down what you’ve noticed — not how you feel about it, but what you’ve seen. Then take a deep breath and start the conversation with those observations. Because avoiding it won’t make it disappear, but facing it just might turn everything around.

Toby Goldstein is a leadership and communication coach who helps professionals and teams develop the communication skills essential for working with others, whether in the office, at home, or in the community. She is the founder of GoBiteSize and the author of Leading with Confidence and A Guide for Everyday Leaders.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 958)