I am not very good at hating people

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised that I may never be very good at fully hating someone.

Not because I forget what they did. Not because I think everything they did was okay. But because I’ve learned to see people with a little more empathy—and to practice a little more loving-kindness.

We are all shaped by things we may never fully see in one another.

There are wounds people carry quietly, fears they rarely speak about, experiences we were never there to witness, and battles they may have been fighting long before our paths crossed.

Sometimes, the behaviour we see is only the visible part of a much bigger story.

But understanding people has also taught me something about myself.

For a long time, I thought protecting my peace meant staying quiet, letting things go, or simply walking away. But I’ve realized that sometimes silence doesn’t end a cycle. It simply leaves it unresolved.

So I’ve started asking myself a different question:

What do I want to do differently this time?

Not how do I make someone feel guilty. Not how do I make them understand that I’m right. Not even how do I make them change.

But: How can I communicate my truth honestly, fairly, and with the kind of person I want to be?

That has been a turning point for me.

I’m learning that loving-kindness doesn’t mean avoiding difficult conversations. Sometimes, it means having them.

I can say, “This is what happened. This is how I experienced it. This is how it affected me. And this is what I need moving forward.”

And then I can let the other person decide what they want to do with that truth.

I don’t need to control their reaction or convince them to see things exactly as I do. I simply need to be honest about my experience.

That has changed the way I think about confrontation.

I used to associate it with conflict—with anger, defensiveness, and someone having to win.

Now I see it as clarity with courage.

It means telling someone the truth without attacking their character. Expressing disappointment without humiliating them. Saying what hurt you without weaponizing your pain. Setting a boundary without turning it into a threat.

And sometimes, an honest conversation doesn’t end a relationship. It gives it a chance to become healthier.

Not every difficult relationship needs to end. Sometimes, what needs to end is the pattern—the resentment, the assumptions, the unspoken expectations, or the habit of hurting each other and pretending nothing happened.

Sometimes you can change the way you relate to someone without losing the connection.

And sometimes, distance is the healthier choice.

For me, emotional growth has become less about deciding who deserves to stay or go, and more about asking:

What needs to change so I can remain true to myself?

I’ve realized this applies to almost every relationship we have—our friendships, families, romantic relationships, business partnerships, colleagues, and even the relationships we have with ourselves.

Every relationship will have moments of misunderstanding, disappointment, and conflict.

The goal isn’t to avoid those moments. It’s to learn how to move through them without unnecessarily hurting one another.

I can understand someone’s perspective without agreeing with it.

I can care about their humanity without abandoning my own needs.

I can forgive without pretending nothing happened.

And I can protect my peace without becoming bitter.

Empathy is not permission. Loving-kindness is not silence. Boundaries are not punishment.

Perhaps the biggest shift is that I no longer want someone else’s actions to determine the person I become.

I don’t want disappointment to make me cruel or hurt to make me closed off. And I don’t want every difficult experience to end with someone becoming the villain.

Sometimes, the courageous thing is simply to say what needs to be said, listen to what comes back, and decide what the relationship can become from there.

Maybe that is how cycles actually end—not necessarily by ending connections, but by becoming conscious enough to stop repeating the same patterns, whether the relationship continues or not.

Because I’ve also learned that I can change my part in a relationship, but I cannot change it alone. A healthier relationship requires both people to be willing to listen, reflect, take accountability, and do something differently.

Sometimes you walk away.

Sometimes you create distance.

And sometimes, after an honest conversation, you find a new way to stay.

What matters is that you are no longer participating in the same cycle unconsciously.

I think this is the kind of emotional growth I’m learning now—not becoming harder, but becoming clearer.

Softer in my understanding.

More honest in my communication.

Stronger in my boundaries.

And more intentional about the relationships I choose to nurture.

Because sometimes, loving-kindness is not letting go.

Sometimes, it is having the courage to talk, to listen, to understand, to adjust—and to give a relationship the opportunity to become something healthier.

You can tell the truth without trying to hurt someone with it.

You can protect your peace without losing your compassion.

You can choose yourself without making someone else the villain.

And sometimes, you can stop a cycle without ending the connection.

You simply choose to relate to each other differently.

Perhaps that is what growing older is teaching me: relationships don’t need perfect people. They need people willing to be honest, empathetic, accountable, and kind enough to keep learning how to love each other better.