When Your Values Collide With Someone You Care About

It’s been a long time since I wrote my last post. In th

at quiet gap, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching and asking myself what I really want from this Substack space. The answer surprised me by being beautifully simple:

I want a group of like-minded people who care about self-development.
I want to share the messy bits of my days without editing or polishing.
I want real conversations, long or short, with people who think deeply.

So if you’re here for glossy writing, I apologise — this place is for fellow word-travelers who enjoy unpacking ideas and wandering through the mind. And if you’re a psychologist or simply obsessed with human behaviour, even better… tune in, guide me, challenge me.

Because right now, I’m facing a new and difficult space.

I’m working with newly arrived migrants and building a small NGO to reach more people. I genuinely thought cultural interaction was my comfort zone — that after everything I’ve lived, I could adapt to any personality, any background, any worldview.

But… absolutely not.
The journey is proving me wrong in ways I didn’t expect.

I’ve already mentioned Jay and “the garden that spoke his language.” After two years of slowly building trust and confidence, I managed to destroy it all in a moment of anger.

Jay opened his heart to me, and I listened — wide-open, curious, genuinely wanting to understand him better. Then came the moment when he shared his beliefs about how men and women should live: virginity, staying at home, strict roles, and all the familiar village expectations. Despite knowing where he came from, it hit me hard. Something inside me tightened.

Still, I tried. I told myself to breathe, to show him how different people think, to open a window without pushing him out of it.

But the breaking point came when he proudly explained how he convinces his female cousin that exploring her sexuality or life outside those rules is wrong — and religiously unacceptable in Christianity.

My inner volcano erupted.

I tried to introduce a different perspective through questions:
Who are the three women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy, and why were they included?
Who was Mary Magdalene, really?
Who were Elijah, Moses, David — flawed men still called holy?

I wasn’t trying to change his beliefs. That’s his journey. I just wanted to stretch his acceptance enough that he could allow others to live differently.

But he refused to hear it.
And I lost my temper.
Two years of nurturing — gone.

I was devastated. And ashamed of the thoughts that flashed through my head. Ugly, racist thoughts:
“Why did you even come here?”
“Just go back home and marry a girl from your village.”

But then I saw myself at 20 — a Syrian girl who believed the exact same things. It took me a decade, and extraordinary mentors, to become who I am today.

Being a migrant isn’t easy.
Being around people who think differently isn’t easy either.

Instead of opening up, you cling to the parts of yourself that feel familiar — the parts that remind you who you were, the parts that keep you from feeling unanchored in a strange world. Opening up to new ideas can feel like letting go of your last piece of certainty.

It takes time to realise that opening your hand doesn’t make your identity disappear.
It enriches it.
It deepens it.
It makes you more yourself, not less.

So now… pray for me.
I hope I haven’t lost him.

And please — give me your opinion.
Have you ever had a moment like this, when your values crashed into someone you care about?
How did you rebuild trust?
How did you stay grounded without losing your humanity?

I’d love to hear your stories.