When Clarity Crosses a Line

I have always known what my strongest gifts are: clarity, vision, and truth. They are the things I have leaned on most of my life. They have opened doors, built trust, and helped me make sense of complex and often chaotic situations. They are also the gifts I have been praised for, over and over again.

But gifts always come with edges. And when you lean too hard on them, or wield them without care, they can cut both ways.

This is a story about one of those times.

The Misstep

It happened in one of those everyday conversations where the stakes did not seem high. No boardroom drama, no life-altering decision. Just a moment between people. That is the thing about missteps: they do not always happen in grand, cinematic ways. Sometimes it is the smallest exchange that leaves the deepest sting.

I thought I was being helpful. I thought I was smoothing the path, offering insight, maybe even protecting someone from making things harder than they needed to be. In my head, my words were practical and generous.

But when they landed, they did not sound like support. They landed like intrusion.

The response was subtle but unmistakable. A recoil, a pulling back, the kind of silence that makes your stomach drop. No one had to tell me outright. I could…