After a certain point, some things just become too boring to entertain—especially what people think of you.
I’m acknowledging that I’m mentally not in a good space. I don’t have the energy for much at the moment, and I keep getting unfounded, unsolicited opinions thrown at me, which is actually pissing me off.
“Why are you letting this get to you?”
Because of who is making these opinions. I cannot stand people who claim to know me because I barely know myself. I’m aware that I don’t give everyone the same version of me. Sure, there are consistencies in my character, but so much of who I am is influenced by the day-to-day life I live. There’s a lot I keep to myself because I know exactly what certain people judge others for. Maybe that’s a defense mechanism—I don’t know.
These people say things that completely miss the mark, and it infuriates me because they genuinely believe they’ve got me all figured out.
I’m not a puzzle to be solved.
What I am, though, is someone who constantly strives to be better than who I was yesterday. Yes, it’s exhausting, but it never ends.
I love to complain before or as I get things done. The more comfortable I am around you, the more I’ll complain. It’s an outlet for my anxiety when procrastination isn’t an option.
Over time, I’ve noticed I have a terrible habit of opening up to the wrong people—the kind who make you immediately regret saying anything.
Let me give you an example: A few years ago, I quite literally tripped on air, fell, and broke my ankle. It swelled up to the size of Texas, and I couldn’t walk on it. The doctor said a lot I don’t remember, but I was supposed to go to physical therapy—and I never did. I just raw-dogged the healing process.
It wasn’t intentional. I only found out about the referral for physio long after the fact, and by then, I felt like too much time had passed. Honestly, I didn’t even know how referrals worked.
“Why weren’t you proactive about your health?”
It’s not something I was taught to prioritize. I learned to neglect myself because no one ever took my health issues seriously. Before I was diagnosed with chronic migraines, I was constantly told to stop pretending and “drink more water” because kids couldn’t possibly have headaches. My asthma wasn’t checked out after I turned 8, and it returned with a vengeance during my pregnancy. Before that, my last full-blown asthma attack was at 18, and even then, it wasn’t properly attended to.
I wasn’t in charge of my medical care—I was a dependent. Every wheeze and shortness of breath was brushed off. I was temporarily deaf for a period after a locked jaw incident, and instead of concern, I became the butt of jokes. One of my “parents” even accused me of faking it.
I think you get the picture.
Now imagine my shock when I meet my current friends, who go to the doctor literally every time something feels off. Every time. It was strange to me. So, when I complained that my foot hurt whenever it was cold, I was told I was “victimizing myself” and that I should see a doctor or do foot exercises instead of whining.
I was hurt for several reasons:
1. The same people telling me to “get over it” and stop complaining are the ones who won’t let you hear the end of it when they’re hurt.
2. I was being vulnerable with someone I trusted, and they told me to “get a grip.”
3. How do I even begin to explain that I can’t undo 20 years of ingrained neglect in the span of a single year?
It took therapy to understand that neglecting myself is unsustainable because I matter too. Now I text my doctor for every little thing because Google will have me convinced I have stage-four cancer. You know how it goes.
It also took the raw panic I felt when I thought something was wrong with my daughter to realize that much of what I experienced growing up wasn’t normal—even if I had a roof over my head, food in my mouth, and clothes on my back. I only mention this because some misguided soul is probably thinking about it.
Now to the basis of this blog. I was told I victimize myself because I have the audacity to react to the way someone hurt me and betrayed my trust. Because I’m not healing on someone else’s timeline, and they’re feeling a fraction of my emotions… I’m victimizing myself. You don’t hurt people and then get to decide how they deal with it.
If you break someone’s trust or hurt them, it’s not your place to dictate how or when they should heal. Your responsibility is to own up to your actions, offer a genuine apology, and give them the space they need to process things in their own way. Respect their boundaries, show through consistent actions that you are working to rebuild trust, and understand that forgiveness—if it comes—will be on their terms, not yours. Healing isn’t about your comfort; it’s about their recovery.
I personally don’t believe in forgiveness. Over time, it started to feel like a concept rooted in control—like the white man’s concept—but to each their own.
Don’t hear what I’m not saying: I don’t dwell on what needs forgiving or carry bitterness in my heart. It’s not worth my time or energy. That being said, if I know I’ve hurt someone or done something wrong, I apologize. It’s that simple.
Lastly, I stopped pitying myself a long time ago. It wasn’t serving me. But just because I’m able to talk about what I’ve been through doesn’t mean I’m victimizing myself. My brain’s been rewired, thanks to the little alien I birthed. I’ve never been more in tune with my emotions. Sure, I still struggle to articulate myself verbally sometimes, but in a funny twist, this is the most emotionally healthy I’ve ever been.
I don’t suppress anything anymore, and I also give zero fucks to people’s guilty consciences. Because riddle me this: In the grand scheme of things, why should I?
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