Finding Peace Beneath the Conflict

How to Find Peace During Conflict and Difficult Conversations

By Dr. Katie Eastman, Psy.D., LICSW

A conversation begins with an ordinary disagreement. Then a single sentence lands like an accusation, voices rise, and everyone leaves feeling unseen. Often the argument we can hear is only the surface of a deeper story: a threatened relationship, lost control, old fear, or grief neither person has named. Finding peace beneath conflict begins with curiosity about what is at stake.

Perhaps a small remark felt like an attack. A request sounded like criticism. Two people who love each other interpreted the same event completely differently. Each felt misunderstood. Neither could understand why the other reacted so strongly.

My invitation today is to look beneath the conflict. Because sometimes the words we’re arguing about are only the visible part of a much larger story.

Imagine two adult siblings talking about their aging mother’s care. One wants additional help in the home. The other insists their mother should remain independent. They argue about money, safety, and responsibility. But perhaps one sibling recently witnessed a fall and is terrified of losing their mother. Perhaps the other remembers years of watching their mother’s wishes dismissed and fears stripping away her dignity.

Their positions are different. Their motivations may both come from love and fear. Unless they understand what’s underneath, they may spend the entire conversation defending themselves rather than caring for their mother together.

The same thing happens at work. One employee welcomes a new system; another worries that familiar skills and relationships will disappear. Leadership calls it resistance, but the experience may involve the loss of competence, belonging, or control.

I call attention to unrecognized losses because they are often powerful disruptors of peace. We react not only to the present event but also to what it threatens or reminds us of.

For some people, earlier trauma can shape a protective response. They may have learned to stay alert, avoid disagreement, withdraw, please everyone, or maintain strict control. Those patterns may have been understandable responses to earlier circumstances. In the present, however, they can complicate relationships.

Not every strong reaction is a trauma response. And we should never assume we can diagnose another person by watching how they argue. What we can do is bring curiosity to our own reactions and ask respectful questions of others.

When you feel especially activated, try asking yourself, “What does this situation remind me of? What am I afraid of losing? What am I trying to protect?”

Those questions create a little space between a feeling and a response.

There is another pattern I see in families that I call the conspiracy of protection. It happens when people avoid speaking honestly because they want to protect one another from pain.

A parent has a serious diagnosis but says everything is fine. Their child senses the fear and avoids asking questions because they don’t want to upset the parent. The other parent hides exhaustion. Everyone is trying to be strong for everyone else. Everyone may be feeling increasingly alone.

We sometimes confuse acknowledging pain with causing pain. We worry that if we name the truth, we’ll take away hope. But silence can also take away opportunities for connection.

Compassionate honesty doesn’t mean saying everything at once. It means being truthful with care, respecting privacy and readiness, and allowing another person to tell us what they want to understand.

We can begin with, “There’s something I’ve been afraid to talk about because I care about you. Is this a good time?” Or, “What have you noticed?” Or, “What would you like to know?”

Those questions are small acts of respect.

Let’s return to ordinary conflict. When someone expresses a view we disagree with, we often begin preparing a response before they finish. Stress can narrow our attention. We hear the statement through the filter of our own history and assumptions.

I want to emphasize that understanding is not agreement. I can acknowledge that someone feels afraid without endorsing a harmful conclusion. I can validate their feelings while maintaining a boundary. And if a relationship involves abuse, coercion, or danger, protecting safety comes before trying to reconcile.

Peaceful communication is not passive. It can require extraordinary courage to state a truth, hold a boundary, or challenge harm without dehumanizing another person.

Here’s a practice I use: the compassionate pause. If it’s safe and possible, take about thirty seconds. Feel your feet on the floor. Relax your hands. Breathe comfortably. Ask yourself, “What do I know? What am I assuming? What might I be missing?”

Then consider one sincere question. “What matters most to you about this?” “Is there an experience that shapes how you see it?” “What are you most worried could happen?” Or, “What would you like me to understand before I answer?”

These are not tricks to get someone to agree with us. People can sense when curiosity is only a tactic. The point is to learn something we don’t yet know.

In my Loss, Motivation, and Meaning Map, I explore three questions: What might be lost? What motivates the response? And what does the situation mean to the person? We use those questions to invite dialogue, not to assign motives from a distance.

Of course, we will still make mistakes. We’ll interrupt, misinterpret, withdraw, or say something unkind. Peace isn’t perfection. It includes repair.

Sometimes repair sounds like, “I assumed I knew what you meant. I’m sorry.” Or, “I was so focused on my fear that I didn’t hear yours.” Sometimes it includes saying, “I want to continue, but not while we’re shouting. Let’s pause and return when we can speak respectfully.”

An apology does not require immediate forgiveness. Trust may take time and changed behavior. But honest responsibility can open a door.now

Here is a practice to try. In one disagreement, ask a genuine question before offering your counterargument. Listen for an experience, a fear, or a loss you had not considered. Then reflect afterward: What did I learn about the other person? What did I learn about myself?

There will be disagreements we cannot resolve. We can still choose whether we approach another person with contempt or dignity, assumptions or curiosity, fear or compassionate awareness.

Beneath many conflicts is a story we haven’t heard. Peace can begin when we’re willing to listen.

A question to carry forward

In your next difficult conversation, what might become possible if you asked one sincere question before defending your position?

Continue Practicing Peace

Explore Practicing Peace, a free 12-lesson audio course with Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino and Dr. Katie Eastman, coauthors of The Peace Guidebook. Discover practical ways to navigate stress, difficult emotions, relationships, grief, and life changes with greater awareness and compassion.

Listen to the free course: https://www.besteveryouacademy.com/freeinnerpeacecourse

Pause. Breathe. Choose.

About the author

Dr. Katie Eastman is a licensed psychotherapist, Master Grief & Transition Coach, and organizational change consultant with more than forty years of experience helping individuals, families, and leaders navigate grief, loss, and change. She is the coauthor, with Elizabeth Hamilton-Guarino, of the international bestselling The Peace Guidebook: How to Cultivate Hope, Healing, and Harmony for the Good of Humankind, and author of UPLIFTING: Inspiring Stories of Loss, Change, and Growth. Through counseling, coaching, speaking, and consulting, she helps people recognize unacknowledged losses and move from uncertainty toward meaning and compassionate action. Learn more at DrKatieEastman.com and PercolatePeace.com.