Raspberry Iced M

For a very long time, I thought being easygoing was a virtue. I thought accommodating meant mature. I thought absorbing discomfort meant loving well.

What I didn’t realize was how often I prioritized others’ comfort over my own safety, clarity, and peace. I thought that’s what kindness required of me.

Someone I love very much snapped at me today. Unprovoked.

And because I can’t allow an unfortunate event to occur without thinking it to death, here I sit, at 9 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, trying to figure out how I became someone people believe can be run over emotionally.

1. I confused empathy with endurance. I believed that understanding someone meant tolerating everything. And it doesn’t. Empathy does not require self-erasure.
2. I mistook flexibility for obligation. Just because I can bend does not mean I should. Adaptability is a skill, but it’s not an expectation others get to place on me.
3. I absorbed emotions that weren’t mine to carry. Other people’s anger. Disappointment. Their stress. I picked it all up like it was my responsibility to fix. And it wasn’t.
4. I over-explained to keep the peace. I narrated my needs carefully, softly (at first) and endlessly, hoping it would prevent conflict. It rarely did. It just left me lost and exhausted.
5. Other times, I stayed quiet to avoid being “difficult.” I have smoothed so many things over at my own expense so that I didn’t come across as “too much.” I laughed off or excused away so many of my own hurt feelings that I lost a big chunk of what was actually important to me. Silence felt safer than losing someone.
6. I accepted bread crumbs because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. I told myself things were fine when they weren’t, because wanting more felt like I was asking for too much. But it wasn’t too much. It was honesty.
7. I confused patience with permission. Waiting longer for someone to treat me right or to get his/her own act together didn’t make things better. It just trained people in what I would tolerate.
8. I believed love meant limitless access. But love without boundaries isn’t connection – it’s depletion.
9. I equated discomfort with growth. Some discomfort is growing pains. On the flip side, sometimes discomfort is a warning. And learning the difference changed everything.
10. I thought that saying “no” was cruel. It’s not, though. It’s clarity. It’s self-respect. And sometimes it is the most loving thing I can do, especially for myself.

What I know now is that being kind doesn’t require keeping my mouth shut. Being loving doesn’t require self-abandonment. Being understanding doesn’t mean being endlessly absorbent.

I’m still compassionate. I still care so deeply.

I’m just no longer available to be walked on in the name of being “kind” or “easy going” or “nonjudgmental” or “understanding.”

And honestly? This version of me is healthier. Stronger. She possesses more clarity and stands firmer in her boundaries.

Here I stand.