Raspberry Iced M

I have never been great at choosing my battles.

Because I chose all of them.

Give me all the fights.

I thought maturity meant addressing everything.

Every misunderstanding.
Every criticism.
Every assumption.
Every slight.
Every opportunity to defend myself.

I thought that if I explained myself clearly enough, people would get it. Get me.
If I corrected the record often eough, people would see the truth.
If I responded to every offense, I could somehow prevent misinterpretation of my actions/choices.

I was wrong. Really, really wrong.

One of the things I am learning – right smack in the middle of sleepless nights and overthinking and sitting in anxiety – is that noticing something does not mean I have to engage.

And boy, oh boy – I notice.

Rude comments. Digs on social media. Judgment. Accusations. Insults.

And it takes a lot for me, now, not to follow my impulses – the ones that have been branded into me – to jump to my own defense.

Now, when I notice a rude comment, a keep walking. When I notice a judgment, I keep living intentionally. When it is clear that there has been a misunderstanding, I choose not to argue with it – at least not outwardly.

There are really two people in my life who listen to me sound off about the things I notice. I pay one of them. And the other vowed to love me 8 years ago…and most days, I don’t think he’s even paying attention.

But nobody else ever hears those monologues in real time. The ones where I spend three days arguing with someone in my head. The ones where I rationalize, out loud, the events before and after a conflict, trying to pinpoint what I could’ve done differently. The ones where I stubbornly stand on all ten toes in my point of view.

But others will never hear it. And that’s not avoidance. That’s discernment.

I have learned to outwardly ignore certain things with grace.

1. People’s need to understand me. Not everyone wants clarity. And I know that because people who want clarity typically ask direct questions. For those who don’t, I just assume they want confirmation. Confirmation – through my misinterpreted behavior or choice – that they are justified in seeing me through an old lens. And no amount of explaining will change their mind. I no longer volunteer for those trials.
2. Every invitation to defend myself. To be fair, there are not many of these anymore – because – like I said – most people have already decided who I am – and they’re not willing to take the lid off of that box. Some accusations deserve a response, yes. But some don’t. Constantly defending myself keeps me emotionally chained to things I am trying to move past. And I truly believe that my quiet, boring, isolated life speaks more clearly than my defenses ever will.
3. The opinions of people who don’t know me. This one sounds obvious, but it isn’t. It is surprisingly easy to give enormous emotional authority to people who do not know anything about my actual life. Like…people who see me in leggings and assume I’m a slob. People who have talked to one of my exes and brand said ex’s story at 100% truthful. People who look at my profile picture on social media and assume I’m high maintenance. People who see the weight I’m carrying in my tummy and assume I’m lazy. People who know that my daughter and I are estranged and decide, with no other information, that I was a horrible mother. I used to stew in that judgment and hate. From total strangers. But I try to remember now that not every opinion deserves equal weight.
4. Every negative thought my mind produces. I like to think I am a creative person. Exceptionally creative. Especially at 2 a.m. when my thoughts override my good sense, and I spend all night replaying the past. But not every fear is a warning. Not every thought is wisdom. And not every worst case scenario deserves investigation or preparation. Some of my thoughts are from a place of fear, just looking for attention. And I am still working on not giving those thoughts what they want.
5. The emotional simplicity and immaturity of society in general. I cannot regulate another adult. I cannot force insight or empathy or even growth. And I’ll admit – that frustrates me sometimes. But choosing not to address those things in real time allows me to reflect freely. I used to manipulate the way others interpreted me by doing favors for people, dressing a certain way, adopting a personality that suited various situations I was in. And I thought I was doing the right thing – because doing all of that kept people happy and approving. But I was wrong. It was just an unhealthy, deceitful coping mechanism to avoid being lonely. And now, I’m lonelier than ever, but at least I’m free from the chains of always having to accommodate others.
6. The need to be chosen. This one still messes me up. I used to constantly scan for evidence that I was wanted. And the moment I realized I wasn’t prioritized or valued, I’d – once again – change who I was…change my preferences, my looks, my attitude. I wanted to be important – and appreciated. But if the last 10 months has taught me anything, it’s that no amount of fake control will transform someone else’s priorities or selection process. And the reality is that I have actively chosen people who have walked away from me without looking back. I have prioritized others’ needs and propensities over my own, such that I have completely lost sight of the fact that I have the ability to choose myself, even when no one else will.

To be a fly on my wall, you probably wouldn’t even notice the things I ignore – and that’s the point, I think, because I ignore all of those things…with grace.

I will not allow the fact that I intentionally choose silence to make me cold or bitter or detached or indifferent. I don’t believe that’s who I am. I care deeply. And I feel deeply. And those are attributes, even though I have always thought of them as curses.

Anyone can ignore something out of resentment. But grace is different. Grace is, “I see this. I acknowledge this. And I am choosing not to let it govern me.”

That is so much harder.

I think often about how Jesus handled certain situations during His time on Earth. He didn’t answer every accusation. He didn’t chase every critic. He didn’t spend His ministry correcting every false narrative. Sometimes He answered. Other times He remained silent. The wisdom was knowing the difference.

And I also consider my own prayers today. Very rarely does God spell it all out for us. And most of the prayers He has answered for me were not answered directly – or in ways I expected. The Lord tells me what I need to know. And He requires trust for the rest.

So the people in my life (and people who are no longer part of my life) do not get all of the information. I remain silent. In my own corner. Making slow, steady changes that better me, even if those changes go unnoticed, and even if they do not benefit anyone else.

Not everything gets my attention anymore. Only the things I deserve – truth, character, peace, growth, faithfulness, people who actually love me, the life God has placed in front of me. That is where my energy belongs.

“This I ignore with grace.“

Not because I’m blind.
Not because I’m weak.
Not because I don’t care.

But because I have finally learned that attention is one of the most valuable things I possess. And I don’t want to assign that attention to proof or defense or a chase. I don’t want to burden myself with things that are not mine to carry in the first place.

Some battles require courage. But this particular battle requires restraint. And it feels powerful to finally know the difference.