Let That Ship Sink: Resolve / Release - Part 2
“You don’t need to set them straight. Let that ship sink.”
That line came from an email newsletter I received recently. MadCollage is an artist I follow on Instagram, but I also really appreciate the perspectives she shares in her newsletter. Part lament, part collage-fueled therapy session, this one about conflict really resonated because I’ve recently had to force down the jagged little pill of its truth.
Let’s back up.
My natural tendency when it comes to conflict is to resolve as soon as possible. “Never let the sun set on your anger” is a principle I try hard to abide by and I really do believe it’s helped keep my marriage (and other relationships) strong over the years.
But I also try to make these Juxtapost reflections an opportunity to look at contrasting perspectives. So, while I’ve always leaned toward resolving conflict immediately, I’ve also come to realize (thanks therapy!) that isn’t always the healthiest or most available path. In this era of rampant fight or flight fatigue, resolving all conflict immediately has also become completely unsustainable.
Sometimes, stepping away is more productive.
Sometimes, in the middle of a heated or emotionally charged conversation, the best thing we can do for a relationship is to pause. To give the moment some breathing room. Because emotions can cloud clarity. Reactions can obscure intentions. And when we’re too deep inside the argument, we’re often too far from the truth.
In those moments, I’ve started saying things like:
“This is important. I can tell it matters to you. It matters to me, too. But I think it would help to step away for a little while and get some perspective.”
”I want to be able to respond thoughtfully, not just react emotionally.”
”I want to make sure I’m grounded and present enough to have this conversation in a healthy way. Would it be okay if we came back to it later?”
The key is to pause with mutual respect. Not the silent treatment. Just asking: “Can we continue this when we’re both in a better place?”
But here’s where it gets tricky.
Because in a perfect world with a storybook ending, both of those approaches - resolving quickly or pausing for clarity - would eventually lead to healing. We’d either talk it out right away or take a beat and come back together. Either way, resolution would happen… again, in a perfect world.
But sometimes it’s not a perfect world.
Sometimes you have to agree to disagree.
And then, you can’t even agree on what that looks like.
That’s the kind of situation I recently found myself in, and it’s been one of the hardest personal experiences of my adult life. I've lost longstanding, deep relationships over disagreement with family, close friends, and people I once saw as some of the most important and enduring connections in my life.
So, what had the power to literally split up a whole family and two family-run workplaces?
The catalyst was a narrative film I wrote and directed called Dirty Laundry, produced with my best friend and business partner, Zach, and our team at 12 Stars Media. If you’re unfamiliar, you can read more about the impetus for the film and get even more background through one of my favorite interviews.
Mitchell Wray (left) and Charlie Schultz (right) as Kyle and Eric in Dirty Laundry, a coming-of-age movie about truth, friendship, and how unexpectedly safe life can be in its most fragile moments.
At its heart, Dirty Laundry is a comedy-drama about two best friends who, in 1997 at their local laundromat, end up under a truth-telling spell. As they work together to break the spell, they go on a journey of discovering the important connection between truth and friendship. Their story is one of two friends finding enough trust in each other to fight their external and internal battles together, instead of on their own.
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By the end of the film, one of the friends confesses they’re in love with the other, but the feeling isn’t mutual. And the point of the story - this is important - is that they choose to stick together, to move forward, because they know that one aspect doesn’t define their whole relationship.
Unfortunately, some friends and family members who are no longer in my life took issue with the film’s message. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. To this day, most of them have never spoken to me directly about it and we no longer see or speak to each other at all.
In one case, a conversation did happen. But even then, it wasn’t really a conversation. The people we met had already formed their narrative. They’d been gossiping with others for weeks, maybe months. They had drawn their conclusions, and nothing I said - not even clear evidence that certain things they’d heard were factually incorrect - changed anything.
I remember moments in that conversation where one of us would gently say, “I think you’ve been misinformed,” or, “That’s not actually true,” or “With all due respect, that part is private.” But none of it mattered. You could feel it in the air: nothing we said would be received. It didn’t matter what we shared, we wouldn’t be seen as anything other than what they had already decided we were.
Later, I shared this experience with a pastor and community leader I trust. He helped me make a little more sense out of that conversation and others like it. He described two kinds of people when it comes to conflict:
Those who approach with curiosity - even when they’re hurt or angry. They say things like, “I’m upset, but I want to understand. I want to talk. I want to know more.” That kind of conversation might be uncomfortable, but it’s open. And it’s a conversation worth having.
Then there are those who come with judgment - not to learn or to hear, but to prosecute. To confirm what they already believe. Those conversations don’t shift. They don’t soften. And at some point, they stop being worth your energy.
Thought it would be appropriate to share at least one of my collages, given the initial spark for this particular article.
That insight echoed another line from the MadCollage newsletter:
“Conversation is no longer about honest, friendly dialogue, but rather about the submission of the opponent. You are expected to somersault onto their opinion bandwagon immediately, or else.”
I’ve felt that. And I’ve felt the weight of trying to stay respectful in the face of someone who only wants to win.
Not every conflict is resolvable.
Not every person comes with openness.
And not every relationship will survive your truth.
But there is peace in letting go.
And maybe release is a form of resolution we should give ourselves permission to reach for more often.
As I close out this Juxtapost, here’s another highly relatable quote from MadCollage:
“It is also true that my capacity to tolerate bullshit has diminished sharply over the years. That compounds the problem. I do not wish to entertain other people's complete absence of common sense anymore. I have my own pandemonium to contend with, and not enough energy to go around. Since I'm susceptible to emotional overload, I transfer my exhaustion onto my artwork. This process of sublimation restores my energy. I recommend it wholeheartedly.”
This makes me think back to the idea of Fluid and Crystal Intelligence that I started exploring a couple weeks ago. My capacity has changed, too. Some of that is definitely a combination of age and wisdom.
Regardless of the exact causes, who’s to blame, or any of the “what ifs” - there is strength in recognizing that, sometimes, you don’t have to set the record straight.
You just have to let that ship sink.
Next Steps:
🧠 Think about it - Who are the people in your life who approach conflict with curiosity? Who show up willing to understand, not just be understood? Consider telling them you appreciate that about them. ;)
💬 Talk about it - Have you ever needed to walk away from a conflict - not out of avoidance, but because continuing would’ve meant sacrificing your own health or integrity? Share your insights by leaving a comment or replying to one of my emails.
👉 Want more weekly reflections like this? Sign up for the email list to get each new Juxtapost in your inbox.
