In my world of design, development, and leadership, communication is key. Be clear. Be direct. Say what you mean. Avoid fluff. Move fast. Solve the problem.

And honestly, I think I’m pretty good at that. I’ve built a career on it. I value clarity. I seek it in others. And for a lot of similarly wired coworkers, this works really well. So I’ve always thought of myself as a great communicator.

Until I started reading Crucial Conversations by Grenny.

Halfway through the book, I started seeing it. This slow, uncomfortable realization: I’m not nearly as good at this as I thought. At least not where it counts most. Not in the conversations that really matter. Not with the people I love.

There’s a concept the book introduces early on: people can’t stay in dialogue when they don’t feel safe. And when safety drops, so does honesty.

That line hit me hard.

Because I realized I’ve been prioritizing truth over safety. And not always in a helpful way.

I’m direct. That’s one of my strengths. I say what I think, and I try to do it clearly. But I’ve started to see how that strength, when unchecked, becomes a weakness. Especially in my closest relationships. My wife. My kids. And, looking back, some of my direct reports.

There have been moments where I thought I was being helpful. Honest. Clear. But now I can see that the person on the other end wasn’t feeling understood or safe. They were feeling overwhelmed. Or defensive. Or, most of the time in a work setting, shut down. The old saying “silence is compliance” isn’t always accurate in these situations.

It’s hard to admit. But the more I reflect, the more I see how often I’ve made things harder without meaning to. Not by what I said, but by how I said it. By how quickly I responded. By how little space I gave their feelings to breathe. By how I cut them off or assumed I knew what they would say, stealing their moment to express themselves to save a few seconds of listening.

And maybe the hardest part? I didn’t see it. I wasn’t trying to dominate or shut anyone down. I just thought I was communicating.

But I wasn’t creating safety. And without that, nothing else really works.

The book talks about the “stories we tell ourselves,” and I’ve been thinking about that too. The story I’ve been telling myself is that being direct is better. It’s efficient. And hey, it’s how I would want to be treated (or so I told myself). But now I’m realizing there’s more to the story. And it starts with listening. With asking myself, “Do they feel safe right now? Do they feel fully heard, or just spoken to?”

This isn’t a post with a happy ending or a five-step fix. I’m still in the middle of it. Still reading the book. Still noticing. Still learning. But it feels important. It feels like one of those moments where I finally see something I should have seen long ago. People were giving me signs for years. But I guess that’s what blind spots are.

Sometimes growth isn’t about building something new. It’s about finally seeing what’s been broken. And deciding to do something about it.