The Conflict That Showed Me Who I Was

In my life, I often feel there are two parts within me constantly pulling me in two different directions. One is the person shaped by wounds, fear, and the gaze of others. The other is the person I truly want to live as. 

There is an image that has lingered in my mind for a long time since I was young. I remember so clearly the look in the eyes of two children that day. It told me that they were very hungry and needed my help. At first, I was genuinely eager and wanted to do something good. 

But then my heart began to beat faster. A sense of inadequacy and self-doubt started to take over. I was afraid of people’s eyes on me. I was afraid someone would think I was just pretending to be a good person. I was even afraid of whispered praise, because at that time, even showing kindness made me feel ashamed. 

And so, I deliberately looked away and kept walking. 

But the lingering guilt and the look in their eyes made my steps grow heavier. I decided to turn back, but the two children were no longer there…

For a long time afterward, my heart remained heavy with “what if” questions… 

“What if I hadn't been so timid…”

“What if I had just done it without worrying about what others would think…”

“What if I hadn't walked away, then maybe…”

That experience from my youth left me with a profound lesson about regret. It reflected a very old image of myself. Later on, I have become braver in expressing what I truly wanted, but there are still times when I choose comfort and want to feel safe by trying to become someone else so that conflict does not happen.

And then, there are major conflicts that begin from a very small thing. They force me to face and answer the question: 

“Will I let fear decide for me, or will I let my heart lead the way?” 

On a day in late spring last year, I entered the room where an older friend whom I deeply cherished was gradually growing weaker from terminal cancer, and had to spend almost the entire day lying on the sofa. Meanwhile, the adjustable bed that could have made him more comfortable was left unused. He was not receiving the basic care and attention that a patient deserves.

Some people seemed to remain silent. I do not know what private reasons or difficulties lay inside each of them, but the things he needed were still left behind. I knew I could do one small thing; I wanted to bring over an ergonomic pillow, an anti-reflux cushion, and a cooling mat so that he could lie down and feel a bit more comfortable

I hesitated for a long time because I knew I was not really in an appropriate position to do those things. After all, I was just an outsider. I was afraid he might feel self-conscious. I was afraid of causing more trouble. I was afraid his family would view my actions through a different lens, as if I had some ulterior motive. I was also hesitant to face confrontation, as bringing over things that should have been the family's responsibility might hurt their self-esteem.

During those confused days, filled with thoughts and inner struggles, I kept imagining him having to lie on that hot sofa, with an aching back and a stiff neck, silently carrying the suffering inside him. I knew clearly that those items were necessary. I felt that what he needed at that moment was not just physical care, but also a little bit of “human kindness”. 

But if I only tried to protect myself from the things I feared, acted as though it had nothing to do with me, and turned away with the thought “that is not my business,” would I still be a human being in the true sense? Would I still be his friend? - Those questions pushed me toward my decision. 

What kept me from stopping was not that I had run out of fear. I could still be afraid, but I knew what was right. I still chose to act because something mattered more than whether I was in the proper position to do so:  the dignity and the suffering of a person facing death. 

This time, I could not turn away just to keep myself safe. I did not want to look back later in life and, once again, have to live in regret with the questions of “What if…” 

I realized that the meaning of each conflict in my life does not lie in which part of me wins, but in what remains in my heart after everything is over. 

Over time, that experience has changed the way I see myself. I no longer see only a timid and weak person. When something truly touches my core values and I dare to accept my own vulnerability, I see more clearly my true self and the foundational values within me - things I have felt very deeply but had never clearly named: 

There is a part of me that cannot be lost. 

There are things so important that I cannot betray my own heart. 

There are principles I cannot compromise on. 

And there are choices, once known to be right, that I cannot go against. 

I also realize that a very quiet part of me has always been there. 

“When I stand before the fragile parts within myself and still ask what is right, that is when I am at my strongest.”