You Don’t Need Everyone to Understand You

A client recently described a struggle he was having over an important decision.

For more than a decade, he had served on the board of a nonprofit that helped adults develop literacy and job-readiness skills. The work mattered deeply to him. He’d helped raise money and expanded programs that had changed lives. In the process, he had developed close friendships and become a well-known and trusted leader in the city.

At the same time, another possibility had begun pulling at him.

Over the past few years, he had started a small coaching and consulting practice focused on helping nonprofit leaders strengthen their organizations. What began as occasional work had grown steadily. He found himself increasingly drawn to it because he saw an opportunity to help dozens of organizations rather than just one. By leveraging his skills this way, he sensed he could have greater impact.

But there wasn't room to serve both initiatives well.

Pursuing the new opportunity would require stepping back from commitments that had mattered to him for years. Staying where he was would mean setting aside something that increasingly felt important.

So he’d done what many thoughtful people do when facing a significant decision: he sought advice.

His initial conversations were helpful. One friend encouraged him to pursue the new opportunity. Another reminded him how much the organization depended on his involvement. A mentor wondered whether the new direction represented growth or was driven by restlessness. And while his spouse raised possibilities he hadn't considered, a colleague pointed out risks he had overlooked.

Several months passed. And by the time we met, he had spoken with dozens of people but not found a consensus.

"What do you want to do?" I finally asked.

He thought for a moment, then replied with a frustrated smile. "I honestly don't know anymore."

Every conversation had clarified one part of the decision while making the whole harder. No additional perspective would resolve it. Every new voice had gradually become as important as his own. The more carefully he listened to everyone else, the harder it became to hear himself.

Yet the remaining work belonged to him alone.

When Listening Becomes Dependence

Most of us have experienced some version of this.

A decision confronts us. We reflect, gather information, and seek perspectives from people we trust. They often see things we miss. They notice risks we’ve overlooked or possibilities we haven't considered.

The difficulty begins when listening gradually turns into dependence.

Instead of using other perspectives to inform our judgment, we begin substituting their judgment for our own. A concern we hadn't thought about introduces doubt. Someone expresses confidence in one course of action and our own certainty about another gradually weakens. Before long, we are carrying so many perspectives that we can no longer distinguish what we actually think from what everyone else thinks.

This is a sign that we’ve lost access to ourselves in the presence of complexity or disagreement.

When this happens, we may be inclined to keep asking others’ input, hoping that one more piece of reassurance will finally make the path clear. But there is a point when additional information won’t resolve uncertainty. It only adds to the weight we are already carrying.

In life and in leadership, judgment falls to each of us.

The Weight of Choosing

The ability to listen well is one of the genuine strengths of thoughtful people. It helps us learn, adapt, and avoid the kind of certainty that often accompanies poor judgment. But openness serves us best when it eventually leads somewhere.

Important decisions reach a point where what’s needed is choosing and this is where many of us hesitate.

Choosing requires accepting that uncertainty will remain. It means acknowledging that some people will disagree. It asks us to release the hope that one more conversation will finally make the answer obvious.

Most of all, it requires accepting responsibility for the decision itself.

As long as we keep searching, we can imagine that someone else may provide the clarity we seek. But eventually the focus needs to shift to whether we trust ourselves enough to decide.

Holding Onto Yourself

As I have watched people wrestle with important decisions over the years, I have become convinced that the goal is not consensus. It is to listen while remaining connected to your own judgment.

Can you hear disagreement without assuming you must be wrong?

Can you stay open to new information without surrendering your capacity to decide?

Those abilities become increasingly important as life grows more complex. Few significant decisions arrive with unanimous support. One person will prefer a different path while another will see risks you do not. Thoughtful people often reach different conclusions from the same facts.

That doesn’t mean you should change course.

At some point, we have to decide what we believe. We have to determine which considerations matter most, which risks we are willing to accept, and which path best reflects our own understanding of the situation. No one else can do that work for us.

And here is what I have noticed in people who eventually find their way through: they stop trying to get everyone to understand. They listen to other people's views, but understand themselves well enough that they don’t need others to confirm what they already know.

That distinction is important.  It’s about staying in contact with our own center, as opposed to feeling defiant or indifferent to others’ views.  

Once it happens, disagreement is easier to tolerate. We can listen without becoming lost. We can consider other perspectives without surrendering our own.

And we can move forward, even when the path is certain, because we’ve decided we trust the person walking it.

My client eventually made his decision. He stepped back from the board and invested fully in the consulting practice. Not everyone understood. A few people shared their disappointment and one close friend questioned whether he was walking away from something irreplaceable.

He told me later that what surprised him most was how little that bothered him.

"I know why I did it," he said. "That turned out to be enough."

Practice Invitation

Think of a decision that’s been occupying your attention.

Notice whose voices have gathered around it. Which perspectives have genuinely helped you see more clearly? Which ones have made it harder to hear yourself?

Then set those voices aside for a moment and ask: what do I actually believe about this?

Stay with this question until you can hear your own answer underneath everything else.

You may still seek counsel or change your mind. But before you do, know what you think.

That is the ground everything else stands on.

*******

And that’s The Gist of It™: Helping people reclaim themselves in a world that constantly pulls them away.

Thank you for reading. If this resonated with you, I’d be honored if you’d forward it to someone who might appreciate it. Subscribe below to receive these weekly:​

Marilyn Gist, PhD