Compassion and Accountability
- Lisa Askins
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
The threshold of repair.
When I was younger, I thought repair meant using a needle and thread, Scotch Tape, or Wite-Out to fix things.
I saw people argue, get upset, and walk away, but I never saw anyone actually come back and make things right.
So, like many of us, I learned to believe repair was something you did alone.
It’s not.
Repair is something we do between us. It’s the courage to turn toward each other again to understand what happened and why it landed the way it did.
Repair asks for honesty and presence. It asks for compassion on both sides.
It asks us to stay.
Where compassion meets accountability
Repair is not about fault.
It’s about staying in relationship with the truth.
Compassion sees the hurt.
Accountability says, “I’ll stay while we heal it.”
Accountability is care in motion.
It’s what protects connection when something has been strained or broken.
It doesn’t look like:
distancing
smoothing over
pretending it’s fine
It looks like:
naming the impact
owning our part
staying present through the discomfort
This is where trust grows deeper roots.
When old wounds speak through new moments
Sometimes the reaction we feel is not only about what’s happening now, but what it reminds us of.
A raised voice.
A delayed response.
A broken promise.
A moment of dismissal.
These things can touch the places in us that were hurt long ago.
Repair asks us to notice what belongs to this moment and what belongs to our history.
We can’t repair the past inside a single conversation. But we can stop the past from rewriting the present.
It starts with honesty like:
“This feels familiar.”
“I think something old just got activated.”
“I want to stay in this with you while I sort through it.”
This is compassion for ourselves and dignity for the person beside us.
When repair becomes possibility
Repair doesn’t guarantee agreement. It doesn’t always bring resolution.
But it brings relationship back into view.
It is the moment we choose each other again.
Not perfectly.
Not without fear.
Not because it’s easy.
But because connection is worth the effort.
Repair is how dignity returns to the room.
Reflection
A gentle check-in for your next hard moment:
What relationship deserves repair over retreat?
What truth would honor us both?
What would staying with dignity look like here?
What part of me needs compassion as I move toward repair?
Let’s talk. If you’re navigating change and want to lead with more clarity, confidence, and connection, I’d love to support your next step.
