A colleague takes credit for your work in front of the people whose opinion matters most. You find out your peer lobbied against your initiative in the meeting you missed. Your coworker slow-walks their deliverable, out of jealousy or spite you suspect, just to sabotage the project you’re leading.

It’s upsetting. And unfortunately, these kinds of power struggles happen all too often. The workplace is rife with jealousy, competition, and political maneuvering. But even worse than losing a power struggle with a coworker is losing yourself in the struggle. Because it’s easy to get sucked into the drama and find yourself saying or doing something you regret. Even if you try to stay out of it, it eats up your time and focus, while you’re ruminating on what someone did or said, or you’re rehearsing over and over in your head what you should have said, or what you’ll do next time.

And one of the worst parts of power struggles is that there’s no way to win. You’re playing a game with an uncertain outcome. Regardless of what you’re fighting over—budget, status, recognition, parking space—you’re gambling. You are not in control of the thing you want; the other is. And when you’re in a power struggle, you define yourself as having less rank than your opponent: they are in control of something you need or want. Parents don’t (or shouldn’t!) have power struggles with children. Bosses don’t have power struggles with employees, and teachers don’t have power struggles with students. It’s better to walk away without your momentary goals satisfied than to enter an argument or fight over them.

Power dynamics, for all their ugliness, are a part of nature; they’re the physics of how 

people relate when status and power are at play, and when there’s competition over finite resources. Power struggles are woven into the fabric of human life—into the ways we seek influence, curry favor, build trust and alliances, and, in the end, try to get ahead.

There’s really no opting out of the game. There’s only the option of navigating it in a way that you choose: not getting dragged into the fray, not losing your composure, not abandoning your values. 

Next time you find yourself drawn into a power struggle or struggling to stay out of one, here are some things to keep in mind, so you don’t lose yourself in the struggle: 

Don’t fight the struggle. One of the ways we fall into a power struggle is by resisting or resenting it. Feeling annoyed by power struggles is itself a way of being trapped by them. You may not be in a struggle with another person, but you’re in a struggle with the dynamic, with the culture, with the struggle itself—and it’s just as consuming. You may feel virtuous for not stooping to what others are doing, but the truth is, you’re fighting a battle nonetheless.

So, the first step in managing power struggles is to stop reacting to them. Accept them as human nature. They’re unpleasant, and they get in the way of good work, but they’re a part of life. Accepting them doesn’t mean passive resignation—power struggles can create a toxic culture, and that’s not good. But meeting them with compassion, and understanding that the people who engage in them feel threatened, insecure, and needy, gives you a place to stand and intervene, without judgment or criticism.

Overestimate your power. Here’s the paradox of conflict: when you elevate your sense of your own power, you elevate your ability to work with the conflict. This isn’t arrogance, and it isn’t about demeaning your opponent. It’s recognizing that the person attacking you is the one in a low-rank state. They’re willing to risk the relationship and their own standing to tear you down—a dangerous move, one only someone who feels cornered, threatened, or out of control would make.

Yet our instinct runs the other way. When someone attacks you, you feel threatened, and that threat makes you overestimate their power. You drop into a low-rank position, at the mercy of their anger or aggression, and this triggers a limbic state: the reactive, fight-or-flight part of the brain takes the wheel. That’s exactly the state in which you lose control of your actions. Worse, the bigger the threat looks, the larger that person looms in your mind—and the larger they loom, the smaller you feel. Your sense of your own standing drops, because you’ve handed them rent-free space in your head.

Elevating your sense of power, remembering your own rank, lets you sidestep that limbic reaction. You feel calmer, more in control, and able to act in alignment with your values and the qualities that matter to you.

Pick and choose your battles. Responding to every provocation means you’re not centered in yourself—you’re being directed by something outside you. You’re a puppet: every comment, taunt, and threat jerks you around. You become predictable, and predictable is easily played.

Not every provocation deserves a response. Not every battle is yours to fight. When you’re anchored in your own power, you don’t need the last word and you don’t need to win every exchange to feel okay. Choice is the ultimate power—you decide when and how to act, not the other person. And paradoxically, that’s what lets you respond from strength instead of threat. You protect your standing not by defending it constantly, but by being too grounded to be easily knocked off it.

Anchor in your personal power. Your personal power is your innate confidence—the steadiness, self-awareness, and sense of purpose that no rival can grant you and none can take away. When you’re grounded in it, you’re not at the mercy of what’s happening to you. Your sense of who you are doesn’t rise and fall with the other person’s moves. The difficulty in front of you becomes something you can navigate deliberately: you can read the room, see the dynamics at play, and choose your battles with a clear head.

Name what’s happening. Often the most powerful move is simply to make the undiscussable discussable: “It feels like we’re competing for the same thing here—can we talk about it?” Power struggles thrive in dark corners. They draw their power from the fact that no one feels able to name them. The battle is waged under the covers, and that’s precisely what makes it work: by never going on record, the other person keeps plausible deniability—no concrete evidence, nothing to admit—and the dynamic continues.

Naming it directly deflates it. But you can only name it from a nonreactive stance, one where you have options and choices. Without defensiveness or counter-attack, you simply name the fact that there’s a lack of teamwork, or a difficulty agreeing—and that takes the wind out of the other person’s sails. It forces them to deny or agree, but either way, you’ve named a problem without accusation and asked to discuss it. You’ve tackled the issue without entering the fight. Naming it calmly and rationally changes the footing completely.

Unfortunately, you can’t opt out of power dynamics. But you can choose how you meet them, and every one of these moves comes back to the same thing: staying anchored in your own power, so the struggle happens around you and not inside you. You may not win the budget, the recognition, or the parking space. But you haven’t lost what no one can take away: your center of gravity.