Understanding Is an Overstatement: Why Respect Matters More Than Understanding
3 minute read
“There are as many worlds as there are minds.”
- Connie Ferrer
Why is she like that? Why can’t she see what I’m saying? Why doesn’t she understand me?
Why We Struggle to Understand Others
Have you ever stopped and asked yourself why there are so many conflicting stories about a single event? Why two people can witness the same moment and walk away with completely different versions of what happened? Or why some people seem to exaggerate—or even borderline lie—about details you’re sure didn’t unfold that way?
But what if they aren’t lying at all?
What if they genuinely believe what they saw, felt, and experienced was true?
Our life experiences shape the way we perceive the world. Every interaction, trauma, joy, disappointment, and success becomes part of the lens through which we interpret reality. And if this is the case, is it really surprising that there are so many opinions, interpretations, and versions of the truth?
If you’re someone struggling with anxiety or trying to make sense of life’s complexity, this question likely hits close to home. Our minds naturally seek order and clarity—but the world rarely provides it. Trying to force full understanding can feel overwhelming, leaving us frustrated or stressed.
Each of us takes in the world according to what we’ve been exposed to. If you grew up in a safe, honest, and supportive environment, you might assume good intentions and stability in the people and situations around you. You may overlook certain warning signs or subtleties that someone from a more volatile or unsafe background would immediately recognize. On the other hand, those who grew up needing to stay alert—to read the room, anticipate danger, or protect themselves—often notice details others miss entirely.
Neither perspective is wrong. They are simply different.
At our core, we seek familiarity. We gravitate toward what feels known, predictable, or emotionally resonant based on our upbringing and life experiences. And since no two people grow up in the exact same circumstances, it follows that we would interpret the world differently.
Even among people raised in the same household, perception varies. Take siblings, for example. Despite sharing parents, routines, and environments, siblings often grow into vastly different individuals. They can hold contrasting worldviews, personalities, belief systems, and preferences. In my own household, the differences between my two sisters and myself were as obvious as night and day.
If such contrast can exist under one roof, imagine the scale of difference across the rest of the world.
Is it any wonder that we struggle to reach consensus on almost anything? Politics, relationships, spirituality, work, or even simple social interactions—our personal filters make agreement nearly impossible.
For those trying to manage anxiety or grow in self-awareness, this is an important insight: striving to fully understand others is often a lost cause. We are never going to completely understand anyone outside of ourselves. And even then, most of us are still figuring ourselves out.
Trying to force understanding can actually lead to self-abandonment—ignoring your own needs, silencing your voice, or losing sight of your own boundaries in an effort to empathize or “get it right.”
So what’s the alternative?
I propose something more realistic and far more achievable: respect.
Respect doesn’t require agreement or total comprehension. It doesn’t demand that you adopt another person’s beliefs, values, or worldview. It simply asks that you acknowledge their right to their own experience. It’s a “live-and-let-live” philosophy that can reduce anxiety, improve relationships, and help you navigate life’s uncertainties with more ease.
Interestingly, the word respect comes from the Latin respicere, meaning “to look again.” To pause. To reconsider. To see someone not as wrong, inferior, or misguided—but as different.
When we prioritize respect over understanding, something shifts. We no longer need to argue endlessly about who is right or wrong. We can arrive at a place that sounds more like:
“That’s not for me, but I love that it brings you joy.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
This neutrality isn’t apathy—it’s maturity. A conscious choice to neither condemn nor conform. A space where curiosity replaces control and boundaries coexist with compassion.
There is more than enough room in this world for differing ideas, customs, beliefs, and ways of being. In fact, that diversity is what makes life interesting. It’s what makes life expansive, textured, and grand.
For anyone seeking personal growth, mindfulness, or ways to manage anxiety in social situations, this perspective is a game-changer. Perhaps the problem isn’t that we don’t understand each other well enough—but that we’ve mistaken understanding for the prerequisite of peace.
Maybe respect is enough. And maybe it’s exactly what we’ve been missing.

