Tag Archives: Emotional intelligence

The ability to recognize, understand, and manage one’s own emotions and those of others.

#65 Expect the least from others and be amazed by what you find

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As far as I can remember, I’ve always been someone who expects a lot from others—too much, actually. But with time, I realized that these expectations disregard the humanness in us—our natural tendency to make mistakes as part of growth.

Growing up in Brazil, I was raised in a very controlled environment—so controlled that my childish mistakes were met with some form of punishment almost every time. Experimenting with freedom and without fear was difficult for me. Things improved when I moved to Italy, as Europe generally feels safer, but not by much. By the age of eighteen, for example, I had never been to a club, never drank alcohol, never even tried coffee—and on weekends, I still had to be home before 22:30. I had done many other debatable things, like punching other kids in the face when I felt they had crossed the line, but I eventually blacklisted that kind of behavior, too.

Before I realized it, my parents had given me a strong ethical foundation. I had a clear sense of right and wrong—at least from my own perspective. I won’t pretend I didn’t act hypocritically at times, bending the rules I had imposed on myself for personal advantage. Consciously or unconsciously, we all do that. Still, I had my own code of conduct. (As a side note, it always surprises me how strange some things sound when you write them down.)

Over time, that educational method bore fruit. I could focus on what mattered to me without distraction, and I was respected—admired even—for my integrity.

Nowadays, the kind of upbringing my parents gave me—filled with slaps, confinement, and, at times, beatings with a belt—would be completely unacceptable, at least here in Germany, where I currently live. I’m sure I would avoid any form of conscious physical or mental coercion if I were to become a father. However, it worked. And as strange as it may sound, I’m extremely grateful to my parents for that. I believe I was a tough kid, and they did what they could with what was available to them at the time.

The catch, though, is that I came to expect the same level of (self-perceived) integrity and moral drive from others. I simply couldn’t accept mediocrity as I defined it—and that soon led me into self-isolation.

It took me a very long time to understand that we are all different, that we should accept and even embrace those differences. Putting this into practice is still a work in progress, but I can confidently say I’ve improved since I began prioritizing this mindset, researching the topic, and working on myself.

I haven’t yet reached the harmony I desire in relationships. At the moment, I find myself in a phase where I expect the least from people I meet. It’s a way of tricking my brain into opening up more easily. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much quality others can bring into our lives when we set the right boundaries and shape them consciously—when we stop projecting too much of our inner patterns onto the outside world and instead learn to embrace whatever it has to offer.

Expecting less from others doesn’t mean lowering your standards—it means freeing yourself from the illusion that people should act according to your script. When you release that weight, life becomes lighter, and genuine connections have the space to surprise you.

Sirāt (2025)

#62 Months later, one movie still sparks deep reflections: Sirāt

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Today I met a friend with whom I love spending time. She’s a few years older than me, but we get along very well. We first met exactly two years ago through a local app called nebenan. At the time, I was desperately looking for someone to practice my German with, so I posted an announcement on the platform—and she responded. Since then, we’ve been meeting regularly, having tandem sessions almost every week.

We’ve reached a point now where we manage to talk about fairly complex topics. Our rule is simple: half an hour in English, half an hour in German. We take notes of each other’s mistakes and analyze them at the end of each round.

I don’t want to discuss our tandem strategy today, though. What I want to talk about is a topic that came up during our session and has stayed with me since I left the café where we met.

We spoke about a movie we both watched—Sirāt. I had actually seen it first, and it impacted me so deeply that I recommended it to everyone I know who appreciates my suggestions. The thing about this movie is that I don’t think everyone will understand or appreciate it. It’s very distant from the world most of us live in or are accustomed to. However, if you’ve ever experienced pure freedom, profound bonding, or deep experimentation in any area of life, I think the movie might speak to you in very personal and powerful ways—even if not in the same way it spoke to me.

If you’re planning to watch it, I’d suggest going in without reading anything about it. But if you want to know the premise, highlight the next paragraph with your mouse:

The movie follows a father searching for his daughter, who left home and appears to be enjoying raves somewhere in a North African desert. He’s accompanied by his son, and along the way they encounter a group of ravers who seem to know where she is.

I’m not going to review the movie in this post—perhaps I’ll write another one about it later.

What emerged from our discussion of Sirāt was a memory of a past relationship I once had with someone who pushed me to limits I didn’t know I could reach. With her, I experienced things I never thought I would. But things didn’t last—she was too intense, too unpredictable. And as much as I tried to make it work, at some point I felt compelled to break up with her. I did, though I believe she was unconsciously—or consciously—pushing me to do it. But that’s not the point here.

What matters is the awareness that surfaced from that reflection. I’ve always dreaded breakups. I don’t think anyone sane enjoys them. It breaks my heart to break someone else’s heart, and the feeling of loneliness and emptiness often drives me into another relationship too quickly—which isn’t the healthiest response. Still, I’ve been lucky to share meaningful connections with special souls, aside from a few situations where I regretted starting something serious too soon with clear mismatches.

What I’ve learned through one relationship after another is that I shouldn’t overthink things too much. Of course, it’s important to learn from each experience and take time to heal emotionally and mentally. But there’s no rulebook for life. Things happen, and we have to go with them—trusting both the process and ourselves. For me, that’s still hard, mostly because of my constant need for balance and peace—things I’m still learning how to compromise on.

#27 Talk with each other, not about each other: a leadership lesson

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A couple of months after starting my current job, the CEO gave a speech at the company’s ten-year anniversary event.

I’ve never been a fan of corporate speeches. I often find them repetitive, inauthentic, and lacking the kind of substance that resonates with me. As far as I remember, my peers in previous companies felt the same way—we would roll our eyes in sync at nearly every sentence. At times, these speeches felt like emotional manipulation, borderline blackmail, yet another attempt to motivate a tired and bored workforce to go the extra mile, again and again, for the sake of the product, the company’s vision, and ultimately, the leadership’s agenda.

However, at this end-of-year event, I was pleasantly surprised by the CEO’s words. His speech wasn’t about numbers, nor did it attempt to persuade everyone to rally behind a mission full of empty promises. It wasn’t an ego-driven monologue designed to make us grovel at his feet. Yes, there were glasses raised to celebrate the company’s achievements, but the focus was on gratitude. He thanked almost everyone in the room, individually and as a team, highlighting something specific that each person contributed, recognizing qualities worth appreciating.

It was a long evening of speeches—maybe too long for my taste. I left earlier than most because, honestly, I never linger at these events. I already spend countless hours at the office, giving my all to my work with the highest level of dedication. Once I’m out, I want to live my life.

Even so, I walked away from that event with one key takeaway: a sentence the CEO shared at the end of his speech. He reminded us that we are a team and, to collaborate sustainably, we need to uphold certain core values. He summed it up perfectly by saying, “Talk with each other, not about each other.”

I can’t even begin to describe how much those words meant to me. They deeply resonated because, too often, workplace dynamics evolve into what people call “company politics.” In my experience, this term doesn’t have a positive connotation. It often means talking the loudest, speaking behind others’ backs, and adopting an overachieving, opportunistic mindset.

By saying, “Talk with each other, not about each other,” he championed values of collaboration, honesty, and a focus on the craft itself, instead of wasting energy on counterproductive behaviors. Those words inspired me to channel my efforts into genuine teamwork and meaningful contributions.

#11 Avoiding resentment and reactivity

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Some people believe that, in a work environment, you must assert yourself by setting firm boundaries with strength and determination, never allowing anyone to undermine your position. I fully agree with setting clear boundaries, but the approach matters. If “strength” translates to being aggressive, defensive, or perpetually on guard, assuming the worst in others, then I disagree.

In the long run, this approach breeds paranoia, making it challenging for others to work with and relate to us. I’ve been on both sides of this dynamic at different stages in my life. What I’ve found insightful is that a company’s culture is rarely about the idealized values outlined by executives. Rather, it’s defined by the values each employee embodies and the way they adapt to the existing culture within their teams.

The companies and teams I found the easiest to integrate with—and where I felt I could thrive—were those where emotional maturity prevailed or where there was, at least, a collective inclination toward it. By “emotional maturity,” I mean an environment without inflated egos, where no one overly identifies with their role in a way that makes them unduly reactive or critical. For instance, when team members see feedback as a mutual growth tool rather than a personal critique, it fosters a supportive environment rather than a hostile one.

Of course, no workplace is perfect. There will be times when we take things personally, and tense moments are inevitable. We are human, after all. Expecting total detachment or a complete absence of reactivity over months and years of collaboration is unrealistic. The key is learning to manage these tensions constructively.

On this front, I’ve found tremendous support in the Nonviolent Communication (NVC) principles developed by Marshall Rosenberg. NVC emphasizes empathetic listening, focusing on both our own and others’ needs, and communicating in a way that strengthens relationships rather than damages them. I recommend reading Rosenberg’s book or even attending NVC workshops; these principles can genuinely transform our interactions.

Ultimately, it’s essential to avoid harboring resentment—whether toward ourselves or others—and to remember that we’re part of a continuous growth process. Every challenge is an opportunity to learn, depending on our perspective. Rather than labeling experiences as “good” or “bad,” it’s more productive to view them as parts of life’s broader journey.

What truly matters is our ability to work harmoniously with the communities we’re part of, remaining aware of our values, staying true to ourselves, and upholding our principles without losing our sense of self. By focusing on collaboration and maturity, we contribute positively to both our personal growth and the work environment around us.