My nervous system went into overdrive the moment I met her. Everything about this person screamed “threat” to my conflict-averse brain—the confident way she spoke about her accomplishments, the casual mention of impressive experiences, the ease with which she navigated conversations I found intimidating. Coming from what I perceived as a humble background, I felt instantly small and easily dismissed. Who am I to this person with all these accolades?
Every instinct told me to politely excuse myself and avoid future interactions. Instead, I made one of the most transformative decisions of my professional life: I chose to stay and engage with the discomfort.
When Fear Masks Opportunity
As leaders, we’re constantly pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones—whether it’s having difficult conversations, asking challenging questions, or simply letting people know when we’re upset rather than sugarcoating our feelings. Yet when that alarm bell triggers during first encounters, it feels easiest to retreat and minimize future contact.
But here’s what I’ve learned from intentionally engaging with people who initially scared me: that nervous system response isn’t always signaling danger. Sometimes, it’s responding to something unfamiliar—and unfamiliar is often where our greatest growth lives.
When I’ve consciously chosen discomfort over avoidance, several encounters stand out as particularly meaningful. Some of those people are now among my closest friends and most trusted advisors. The person I mentioned earlier? She’s someone I confide in regularly, someone who serves as both mirror and lighthouse when I need honest feedback. It turns out her apparent bragging was armor against her own self-consciousness—the same way my withdrawal was mine. We shared similar values but applied them differently, which is exactly why she could offer perspectives I couldn’t reach alone.
The Learning Lives in Both Outcomes
There are other meaningful encounters,however, that didn’t blossom into lasting friendships, but they taught me invaluable lessons about myself and others. In both cases, my initial discomfort was partially warranted—there were genuine misalignments in values or communication styles that made deep connection difficult. But engaging authentically allowed me to understand why I felt triggered, what those reactions revealed about my own growth edges, and how to trust my judgment more effectively.
The beauty lies in this: whether the relationship flourishes or fades, you’ve gained crucial data about yourself. You’ve practiced assuming positive intent, stretched your emotional intelligence, and hopefully offered something meaningful to the other person in return. Most importantly, you’ve learned to distinguish between your nervous system responding to genuine incompatibility versus simply responding to difference.
Practical Steps for Engaging with Discomfort
Start with perspective-shifting. Before your next networking event or team meeting, remind yourself that your initial discomfort might be pointing toward growth, not danger. When you meet someone who triggers that alarm, pause and ask: “What if I don’t know them well enough to judge? What might their perspective be?”
Assume positive intent deliberately. This doesn’t mean ignoring red flags—it means giving people the benefit of the doubt when your nervous system reacts to unfamiliarity rather than actual threat. Ask yourself: “What if their confidence comes from a place of sharing rather than showing off? What if their directness is clarity, not aggression?”
Engage with curiosity. Instead of defensive questioning, try genuine inquiry. “Tell me more about that project” instead of internal skepticism. “How did you develop that approach?” rather than immediate judgment.
Trust the learning process. Whether the relationship deepens or remains surface-level, you’re building emotional agility and expanding your leadership capacity.
The Courage to Stay Present
In our hyperconnected yet increasingly polarized world, the ability to sit with discomfort and engage authentically across differences isn’t just a nice-to-have—it’s essential leadership currency. The people who challenge us, who make us squirm a little in their presence, often hold the keys to our next level of growth.
Some of my most valuable professional relationships started with that stomach-dropping feeling of “I don’t belong here” or “This person is too much for me.” Learning to distinguish between productive discomfort and genuine warning signals has become one of my most valuable leadership skills.
Your nervous system will always have opinions. But you get to choose whether to let those opinions make your decisions—or use them as data points in a much richer conversation about growth, connection, and possibility.
What about you? Have you ever been surprised by a relationship that started with discomfort? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments below.
*The image for this post was generated by AI