The Things We Pretend Don’t Affect Us
Sometimes I know something bothered me long before I admit it.
Not in the moment.
In the moment, I usually keep moving.
The day continues. Work still gets done. Messages get answered. Whatever needs attention gets attention.
Nothing obvious changes.
At least not enough for anybody else to notice.
Maybe that’s part of why it can take me so long to recognize when something actually landed.
Because I don’t always think of being affected as something dramatic.
I think most of us imagine it has to look bigger than it usually does.
A bad day.
An argument.
A confrontation.
Something clear enough to point at.
But a lot of things don’t arrive that way.
Sometimes it’s a comment that stays with you longer than expected.
A conversation that keeps replaying when you’re driving home.
A moment where somebody says something and you laugh it off, but later you realize you haven’t stopped thinking about it.
Not because it ruined your day.
Just because it landed.
I’ve been noticing how quickly I try to move past those moments.
Not intentionally.
It almost feels automatic.
Like somewhere along the way, I learned that acknowledging something meant giving it too much power.
So instead, I tell myself it wasn’t that serious.
I tell myself to let it go.
I tell myself there are bigger things to worry about.
And sometimes that’s true.
But sometimes I think that’s just another way of avoiding the fact that something affected me.
The body usually knows before the mind admits it anyway.
You feel it in your patience.
In your energy.
In how quickly you become irritated by things that normally wouldn’t bother you.
You feel it when a conversation keeps returning long after it should have left.
You feel it when something small starts taking up more space than it deserves.
Not because you’re holding on.
Because you never really acknowledged you were carrying it.
I think a lot of us are good at functioning.
Good at showing up.
Good at pushing through.
Good at convincing ourselves that if we’re still moving, then everything must be fine.
But movement and processing aren’t the same thing.
Neither are silence and peace.
I’ve been sitting with that lately.
How many things have I called small simply because I didn’t want to deal with them?
How many things have I dismissed because they felt too insignificant to name?
How many moments am I still carrying because I decided they weren’t supposed to matter?
Maybe that’s the mirror this week.
Not what hurt.
Not who disappointed you.
Just this:
What are you still carrying because you convinced yourself it shouldn’t have affected you?
And what would change if you simply admitted that it did?
To Be Continued... Until Next Time.