One thing I’ve noticed is how some people are very quick to talk about your reaction, but strangely quiet about what caused it.
They’ll focus on the moment you finally spoke up. The moment you got upset. The moment you stopped being patient. They’ll dissect your response, analyze your tone, and make that the entire conversation.
But somehow, everything that happened before that gets forgotten.
The disrespect. The dismissal. The repeated behavior. The conversations that never went anywhere. The small things that kept piling up until eventually there was nowhere left to put them.
And suddenly, your reaction becomes the problem.
I used to spend a lot of time questioning myself in situations like that. Wondering if I was too sensitive. Too emotional. Too reactive. Maybe if I had said it differently. Maybe if I had stayed calmer. Maybe if I had just kept quiet.
But age has a funny way of clarifying things.
I’ve learned that reactions rarely appear out of nowhere. Most of the time, they’re built slowly. They’re the result of things that were ignored, boundaries that were crossed, and feelings that were dismissed for far too long.
That doesn’t mean every reaction is perfect.
It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take accountability for the things we say when we’re hurt.
But accountability goes both ways.
You can’t continuously disrespect someone and then act shocked when they eventually have something to say about it.
You can’t keep pushing someone’s limits and then paint them as the problem the moment they stop tolerating what they’ve been tolerating all along.
What I’ve come to understand is that some people would rather discuss your response than examine their behavior. Because looking at your reaction is easier. Looking at themselves requires self-awareness.
And self-awareness is uncomfortable.
It requires admitting that maybe you weren’t the victim every single time. Maybe you contributed to the outcome. Maybe the version of events you’ve been telling yourself isn’t the whole story.
That’s a difficult conversation to have with yourself.
So instead, some people focus on the reaction because it’s easier than facing the reason it happened in the first place.
These days, I’m less interested in defending my feelings to people who refuse to examine their actions. If a conversation only has room for one person’s accountability, then it was never really a conversation to begin with.
Not sure if it’s just me, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. 🤍
They’ll focus on the moment you finally spoke up. The moment you got upset. The moment you stopped being patient. They’ll dissect your response, analyze your tone, and make that the entire conversation.
But somehow, everything that happened before that gets forgotten.
The disrespect. The dismissal. The repeated behavior. The conversations that never went anywhere. The small things that kept piling up until eventually there was nowhere left to put them.
And suddenly, your reaction becomes the problem.
I used to spend a lot of time questioning myself in situations like that. Wondering if I was too sensitive. Too emotional. Too reactive. Maybe if I had said it differently. Maybe if I had stayed calmer. Maybe if I had just kept quiet.
But age has a funny way of clarifying things.
I’ve learned that reactions rarely appear out of nowhere. Most of the time, they’re built slowly. They’re the result of things that were ignored, boundaries that were crossed, and feelings that were dismissed for far too long.
That doesn’t mean every reaction is perfect.
It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take accountability for the things we say when we’re hurt.
But accountability goes both ways.
You can’t continuously disrespect someone and then act shocked when they eventually have something to say about it.
You can’t keep pushing someone’s limits and then paint them as the problem the moment they stop tolerating what they’ve been tolerating all along.
What I’ve come to understand is that some people would rather discuss your response than examine their behavior. Because looking at your reaction is easier. Looking at themselves requires self-awareness.
And self-awareness is uncomfortable.
It requires admitting that maybe you weren’t the victim every single time. Maybe you contributed to the outcome. Maybe the version of events you’ve been telling yourself isn’t the whole story.
That’s a difficult conversation to have with yourself.
So instead, some people focus on the reaction because it’s easier than facing the reason it happened in the first place.
These days, I’m less interested in defending my feelings to people who refuse to examine their actions. If a conversation only has room for one person’s accountability, then it was never really a conversation to begin with.
Not sure if it’s just me, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. 🤍
Tags
Mental Health