The other day, I almost lost it.
Someone came at me sharp—words flying fast, full of assumptions, loud enough to make my skin crawl.
And for a moment, my body did what it’s wired to do: tighten, defend, fight back.
I could feel the old programming firing up.
The part of me that wanted to match their volume.
The part that thought if I just explain myself better, louder, faster—they’ll understand.
I took a breath.
I said nothing.
I felt my hands unclench.
Not because I didn’t have something to say.
Not because I was giving up.
But here’s what I understand:
Not every fight deserves my fire.
Soft power in a fight doesn't mean you let yourself get steamrolled.
It doesn't mean you suppress what needs to be said.
It means you choose:
Where you invest your energy.
Whether you’re speaking to someone who can actually hear you.
Whether winning this battle costs you peace you can’t afford to lose.
It means you know when to stay.
And you know when to stop feeding chaos with your attention.
I look back at earlier versions of myself,
and I know she would have kept arguing.
She would have texted long explanations after the fact.
She would have replayed the conversation for hours, trying to find the “perfect” response.
Soft power me?
Soft power me knew: no response was the response.
And it wasn’t passive.
It was powerful as hell.
If you’re wondering what soft power looks like when things get messy, here it is:
It looks like pausing when you're baited.
It looks like choosing curiosity over defensiveness.
It looks like protecting your nervous system like it's sacred ground.
It looks like walking away because you're not here to convince people of your worth.
"You don't owe anyone an explanation for protecting your peace."
Next time you're pulled into someone else's storm, remember:
You don’t have to match their chaos to prove you care.
You don’t have to stay in a room just because you were invited to the argument.
You don’t have to light yourself on fire to be heard.
Soft power says,
I know who I am even when you don’t.
And that is leadership.
That is strength.
That is fire without the burnout.
—
Dee
(In your corner, always.)
"Not every fight deserves my fire."
Such a centering reminder!
This one hit home. I view it as “quiet strength” that keeps my inner soul in full control of how I choose to react. Edie and I had a complete misfire a few days ago, and we were able to get past it with a quiet, reflective conversation on a rainy morning. I knew in my heart that I needed my boundaries and she knew she needed hers. Now we both have learned a lot from this episode and we can use that base to keep us on track.
Ah, the human condition …