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Learning to stand without splitting

Learning to Stand Without Splitting

By Nidhi Guglani

There are times when I’m in a fix. I don’t know whom I should agree with—the family I’m very close to, or my friends, my students, my colleagues, or even my parents who now live apart. It becomes a dilemma because I care deeply for all of them. And when two people who matter to me don’t get along, or when there’s a disagreement between the worlds I belong to, it genuinely hurts.


Usually, the tension lies between the immediate family I live with and those who are a little more distant—emotionally close, yet physically or circumstantially apart. It’s a situation many of us quietly live with, especially when life has asked us to move from one space to another—like a new home, a new family, or a new role.


“Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.” — Prentis Hemphill


Over time, I’ve come to see that this isn’t a question of siding with one group or another. It’s a matter of learning how to stand whole, without splitting myself between loyalties. The family we are born into, the people we live with, the friendships from our past, and the bonds we form later in life—all of them come from different contexts. They carry different expectations, unspoken rules, and sometimes, unshared histories.


It’s not always possible—or necessary—for these worlds to blend. And maybe they don’t have to.


The important thing is that we respect each other’s space, rather than try to reshape one another. We can acknowledge the differences, navigate them with care, and choose not to criticize or compare. There is a quiet strength in being able to say:

“I see you. I care for you. But I also need to honor my own ground.”


“You can be a good person with a kind heart and still say no.” — Lori Deschene


I’ve realized that sometimes the best form of support is space. Giving others room to resolve their own conflicts is not withdrawal—it’s trust. It’s the belief that they are capable of growth, just as I am. I can’t fix everything, and I no longer need to. I can walk beside people without trying to carry them.


This clarity didn’t come all at once. It came from being torn in small, invisible ways—between silence and speaking, between peacekeeping and peacebuilding. And through it all, I’ve come to value a kind of quiet dignity. One that doesn’t need to take sides to prove love.


 I thought to sit with—

Have you ever felt caught between two people or two worlds you care deeply about?

What helped you stay grounded without taking sides?

You’re welcome to reflect, journal, or simply carry the question with you.


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