The Inner Child in the Boardroom

Many adult conflicts are not truly driven by rational differences but rather by unresolved emotions rooted deep in our past, often linked to our “inner child.” These triggers, stemming from unmet needs or past wounds, can cause us to respond not as the adults we are but as the vulnerable, reactive versions of ourselves we once were. Imagine facing a challenge at 25 or 43, only to find yourself reacting with the raw emotion of an upset 5-year-old. Recognizing this pattern allows us to approach conflicts with empathy, both for ourselves and others. To illustrate, let’s consider the story of Tom and Maggie and explore how we might see a bit of ourselves in their experience.

Maggie sat at the head of the conference table, her pen tapping nervously on the notepad in front of her. The room hummed with a tense energy, a silent reminder of the disagreement that had unfolded last week. Across the table, Tom, her marketing colleague, scribbled furiously on a sheet of paper, eyes fixed downward, avoiding hers. Their argument about project deadlines had been sharp, loud, and unresolved, leaving Maggie with a simmering sense of frustration.

The meeting unfolded in its usual fashion—voices rose and fell, discussions swirled—until Tom interrupted Maggie mid-sentence, his tone sharp and dismissive. The abruptness of it sent a jolt through her, and she felt an immediate wave of heat rising in her chest. Anger surged, raw and immediate. She was ready to snap back when she caught a glimpse of Tom’s expression: his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, fingers drumming a frantic beat on the table.

A memory surfaced for Maggie, sudden and vivid. She was five years old again, arguing with her older brother over who deserved the last cookie. The familiar sting of being dismissed, of not being heard, washed over her, merging with the present. In that moment, Maggie realized that it wasn’t just the seasoned project manager who wanted to speak—it was the five-year-old inside her, desperate for acknowledgment.

Tom was battling his own echoes from the past. To him, the meeting room had shrunk, taking him back to when he was 10 years old, struggling to complete a school project as the sound of his parents’ arguments ricocheted down the hall. The pressure to meet expectations, to prove himself capable, surged inside him. When Maggie criticized his delays last week, it hadn’t been her voice he heard—it was the voice of his father, questioning his worth.

As Maggie hesitated before responding, the room seemed to close in, the tension palpable. But instead of lashing out, she took a slow, deliberate breath. With a gentler voice, she asked, “Tom, what’s on your mind?”

The unexpected question caught Tom off guard. His fingers stilled, and he looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time in days. The defensiveness in his expression softened, replaced by a flicker of surprise and recognition. For a moment, the room was silent, but this time it was filled with something different: curiosity instead of conflict.

Tom’s gaze shifted, and he saw something in Maggie’s eyes that mirrored the exhaustion he’d felt in his own reflection that morning. He exhaled slowly and said, “I’m just… feeling the pressure. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

The tightness in Maggie’s chest eased as she listened, the five-year-old within her quieting down as the adult stepped forward. “I get it,” she replied, her voice softening. And she did. Because in that moment, she recognized the small, overwhelmed boy peering out from behind Tom’s weary expression.

The meeting carried on, but the unspoken tension had been replaced with understanding. When Maggie and Tom left the room, they were more than colleagues; they were two people who had glimpsed the inner struggles they both carried and chosen to respond with compassion instead of defensiveness.

The office, of course, remained the office. Deadlines would still loom, and conflicts would undoubtedly arise again. But Maggie now understood that empathy could transform a moment of conflict into an opportunity for connection. By seeing beyond adult facades to the hidden, hurt children within, she had found the key to not just navigating conflict, but transforming it: to treat every angry adult as a child who simply wants to be seen and heard.