“Did you hear what he said?”
“People like her are the problem.”
“I wouldn’t trust type X.”
Most of us have found ourselves in conversations like these.
Perhaps over coffee with colleagues, around the dinner table, in a family WhatsApp group, or while scrolling through social media where outrage spreads faster than kindness.
The conversation begins innocently. Then it shifts.
Someone who isn’t present becomes the topic.
Opinions turn into accusations. Frustration becomes condemnation.
The atmosphere grows heavier, and we leave carrying something we never intended to take home: a lingering sense of unease.
Sometimes, the healthiest thing we can do is surprisingly simple: walk away.
Shaping our emotional climate
As Patron of the Malaysian Mental Health Association (MMHA), I often hear about anxiety, burnout, depression and loneliness.
Yet, we seldom talk about the small, everyday moments that quietly erode our emotional well-being.
Not every wound comes from a crisis. Some are created gradually, conversation by conversation.
Words shape the emotional climate in which we live.
The tone of our homes, workplaces, friendships and online communities influences how safe and connected we feel.
When conversations become habitually negative or cruel, they slowly rob us of peace.
This is not an argument for avoiding difficult conversations.
Honest disagreement helps societies grow.
Constructive criticism improves institutions.
Meaningful dialogue strengthens relationships.
But there is a difference between conversations that seek understanding and conversations that exist only to judge, belittle or inflame.
One builds people; the other slowly breaks them.
Fear of judgment
Our cultural wisdom has recognised this for generations.
The Malay proverb “Kerana pulut santan binasa, kerana mulut badan binasa” reminds us that words carry consequences.
A careless remark spoken in seconds can leave wounds that last years.
Modern psychology simply confirms what our ancestors already knew.
Think about what happens when gossip begins.
Even if we never contribute a single sentence, something inside us becomes unsettled.
We wonder, perhaps unconsciously, if they can speak about someone else this way, what might they say about us when we are not here?
The conversation may end after 15 minutes, but the anxiety stays much longer.
The same is true when every discussion revolves around finding fault – every mistake, parenting choice, political opinion, appearance or life decision.
We begin to absorb a dangerous message: that making mistakes is unacceptable and compassion has become conditional.
Slowly, people stop speaking honestly.
They second-guess themselves. They withdraw.
It is not always conflict that silences people. Sometimes it is the fear of being judged.
Mental exhaustion
Negative conversations drain us in another way too.
Have you ever walked away from a gathering feeling strangely exhausted, even though nothing physically demanding happened?
Often, it is not the event itself that drains us, but the emotional weight of spending hours surrounded by complaints, criticism and anger.
Our minds naturally pay more attention to negative experiences than positive ones.
A single toxic conversation can overshadow an otherwise joyful day.
Perhaps the greatest danger is that these conversations slowly shape how we see the world.
If every discussion tells us people are selfish, society is broken and nobody can be trusted, we eventually begin to believe it.
Cynicism becomes our default setting. Compassion becomes harder to find.
Children notice this too.
They learn far more from listening to us than we realise.
They hear how we speak about neighbours, relatives, colleagues, political leaders and strangers.
Long before they understand psychology, they are learning what respect sounds like and whether kindness still has a place in everyday life.
A Japanese proverb captures this truth beautifully: “The tongue is but three inches long, yet it can kill a man six feet high.”
Words can encourage and heal.
But words can also diminish, divide and destroy.
Sometimes, wisdom is recognising that not every conversation deserves our presence.
Sometimes, protecting our peace begins with quietly standing up, smiling politely and walking away.
Toxic public discourse
Few subjects stir stronger emotions than politics.
At its best, politics is about improving lives.
Healthy debate is essential in any democracy.
But somewhere along the way, many political conversations have become less about solving problems and more about winning arguments.
Whether watching Parliament, following the news or scrolling through social media, it is easy to become caught in an endless cycle of blame, ridicule and outrage.
Every issue becomes another reason to attack someone. Every disagreement becomes personal.
This is not unique to Malaysia.
Around the world, public discourse has become louder, harsher and increasingly unforgiving.
The consequences are not only political; they are psychological.
When hostility becomes the dominant language of public life, it slowly seeps into private life.
The tone we hear from public figures often becomes the tone we adopt in our own conversations.
Before long, the sharp words exchanged in political debates begin to echo around our dinner tables and WhatsApp groups.
We can disagree passionately without questioning another person’s humanity.
We can criticise ideas without attacking individuals.
Our mental well-being depends on remembering that distinction.
We should vote thoughtfully and engage respectfully.
But we do not have to absorb every argument or respond to every provocation.
Sometimes, choosing not to engage is not avoidance, it is wisdom.
As Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu wrote: “He who knows when to stop does not find himself in trouble.”
Democracy deserves dignity.
When political discourse descends into personal attacks, name-calling or endless blame, we do not have to reward it with our attention.
The moment a leader’s words – whether spoken on a stage or typed into a social media post – slip into hate, condemnation or belittling another human being, we should walk away, both physically and digitally, to protect our emotional integrity and model the discourse we want for our children and our country.
Why it’s difficult
If walking away is so beneficial, why do we struggle to do it?
Most Malaysians are raised to value harmony.
We are taught to be respectful and careful not to offend.
These are beautiful qualities, yet sometimes the desire to be polite comes at the expense of our emotional well-being.
We stay in conversations that make us uncomfortable because leaving feels rude.
We laugh at jokes that do not sit well with us.
We remain silent while someone is criticised because we do not want tension.
Many of us have sat at a kenduri or office lunch where the conversation shifts from catching up to pulling someone apart.
Simply remaining there can leave us unsettled.
There is another reason walking away is difficult: human beings are wired to belong.
We naturally want to be accepted. Sometimes, we tolerate negativity because we fear exclusion more than discomfort.
Yet, genuine belonging should never require us to compromise our values.
Friendships built on gossip are fragile. Communities grow stronger not because everyone thinks alike, but because people feel safe enough to speak with kindness.
Walking away is not rejection; it is self-respect.
Walking away is often misunderstood as weakness. In reality, it requires strength.
Choosing not to retaliate demands self-control. Refusing to join gossip requires courage. Declining to fuel an argument requires confidence in our values.
Every time we choose not to participate in harmful conversations, we reinforce an important message: my peace is worth protecting.
That simple decision has a ripple effect.
Someone else who felt uncomfortable may find the confidence to change the subject.
A child observing may learn that respect sometimes means saying nothing at all.
A colleague may realise conversations can be thoughtful without becoming hurtful.
Real leadership is not always loud.
Sometimes, leadership is choosing not to add another negative voice to the room.
Choosing peace
Walking away does not have to be dramatic.
Sometimes, it is changing the subject.
Sometimes, it is excusing yourself to refill your tea.
Sometimes, it is choosing not to reply to a provocative WhatsApp message.
Sometimes, it is putting your phone down and deciding the latest online argument does not deserve another minute of your attention.
Silence is often misunderstood, yet silence can be wisdom.
It creates space where anger cannot grow.
Not every opinion requires a response. Not every criticism deserves our defence.
Peace is not found by winning every debate.
It is found by knowing which conversations are worth having, and which ones are quietly stealing our joy.
We live in a world that rewards the loudest voice.
Yet, the qualities that sustain mental well-being remain the same: compassion, humility, patience, grace – and the wisdom to know when enough has been said.
The American writer Anne Lamott once observed: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”
Sometimes, we need to unplug not only from our devices, but also from conversations that drain our emotional energy.
In a world filled with noise, choosing quiet can be an act of courage.
In a world quick to judge, choosing compassion can be an act of leadership.
And in a society where many carry unseen burdens, let kindness be our national identity.
Not every conversation deserves you, so just walk away.
Che Puan Muda Zaheeda Mohamad Ariff is the Raja Puan Muda of Kedah and a trained lawyer. For more information, email starhealth@thestar.com.my. The information provided is for educational and communication purposes only, and it should not be construed as personal medical advice. The Star does not give any warranty on accuracy, completeness, functionality, usefulness or other assurances as to the content appearing in this column. The Star disclaims all responsibility for any losses, damage to property or personal injury suffered directly or indirectly from reliance on such information.
