How to "Fix Your Family."

Let's Talk About Hard Conversations

I had a stack of retreat newsletters ready to go this week, but the conversations I’ve been pulled into online felt too important to ignore. Between the news of Charlie Kirk’s death, the horrific images of Trey Reed and Corey Zukatis, and the silencing of critics of the current administration—I found myself thinking deeply about communication, empathy, and how we handle differences.

Whenever I talk politics, I lose subscribers. The 90 Day Fiancé audience skews conservative, and, if you haven’t noticed, I do not. Yet somehow, I still manage to maintain positive relationships with people who hold very different beliefs. Why? Communication and empathy.

Everyone has a reason for what they believe. Some fear vaccines because they or someone they love has been harmed. Some fear people who don’t look, speak, or pray like them because they’ve personally experienced harm at the hands of outsiders, or because of what they've seen in media. My own politics are rooted in growing up in many different places, years of teaching, coaching, and listening to people who don’t share my background. Their stories have shaped my thinking.

The hardest part for me? Not letting my passion, grief, or trauma push me to act out of pocket when the conversation gets hard.

What My Students Taught Me

I moved a lot as a kid and learned in four VERY different environments - Catholic school, Brentwood, Islip, and West Islip - all on Long Island, NY. As an adult, I taught in schools across Long Island and New York City: Lindenhurst, East Rockaway, Hudson Honors, Frank McCourt High School, FDA II, and Ellis Prep Academy.

• Long Island: Mostly middle-class white students.

• Hudson Honors & FDA: Predominantly Black and Latino.

• Ellis Prep: Immigrant students, brand new to the U.S.

At Ellis, I taught the same students for three years. Many had risked their lives for education. Some worked overnight shifts, lived in shelters, or supported families while still showing up to class and pushing through the near-impossible challenge of learning English in three years... and many of them did it.

Meanwhile, I watched native English speakers struggle to pass the same exams. My (faulty) takeaway? Immigrant students appreciated the education they fought for, and were mostly grateful and hardworking, while American-born kids were lazy and entitled, and expected that everything be handed to them. That belief seeped into my parenting, my friendships, and my judgments of other people.

Over time—and through A LOT of therapy—I realized this wasn’t about my students. It was about me and my family - the belief that the men in my family had it easy, while the women sacrificed their entire lives to put food on the table. The relationships I harmed in the process of working this all out taught me to rethink not just what I believe and why, but how I communicate it.

Tools for Hard Conversations

I don’t want us cutting off family and friends simply because we disagree. What if instead we leaned into conversation as a tool for understanding? Here are a few practices that help me:

1. Evaluate your belief systems.
   Ask: Why do I believe this? Family? Media? Lived experience? Do I just believe what I've aquired, or have I done the work to develop my own perspective.

2. Talk before you block.
   Nonviolent Communication (see the book Crucial Conversations) suggests:

   • Ask for a safe space to talk.

   • Use I statements to describe what you noticed or saw - objectively and without judgement. 

   • Explain the impact: “When you offered prayers for this person but not that one, it made me feel like…”

   • Offer a remedy: exposure to other viewpoints, an apology, or simply an honest conversation.

It’s not always simple, but it’s worth trying.

Why I Choose Conversation over Ease

Next month marks a year since my grandmother passed. Caring for her and my father after over a decade of estrangement was both a gift and torture. A gift, because I got to understand who they were and why. Torture, because the years had carved wounds too deep to fully repair.

That season taught me empathy and forgiveness in ways no book or classroom could. When I scroll social media now, I see so many families and friend groups cutting each other off. It mirrors my life, and it hurts my heart.

What I learned: conversation leads to understanding → understanding leads to empathy → empathy leads to forgiveness. And forgiveness is the only path to peace. Not money, not fame, not possessions—just forgiveness.

So have the conversation.