Pull up a chair, grab a coffee (or something stronger, I don’t judge), and let’s have a real conversation.

Lately, I’ve noticed a word being tossed around my name like confetti at a party I didn’t want to attend: Villain. Now, usually, when someone gets called a villain, they’re expected to go into defense mode. They start crying, explaining their “trauma,” or trying to convince the neighborhood that they’re actually a saint who just had a bad day.

Not me. I’m Tina. And honestly? If being the “villain” means I’ve finally stopped letting people treat my kindness like a doormat, then go ahead and get me the cape. I’ll even make sure it’s dry-cleaned.

The Myth of the “Unprovoked” Reaction

Here’s the thing that kills me: the “Clueless Act.” You know the one. Someone spends six months poking the bear, taking little jabs, “forgetting” boundaries, and disrespecting your time. Then, the moment the bear finally bites back, they gasp, clutch their pearls, and ask, “Why would she do that? I’m so confused!”

Let’s be clear: When I move, it is never unprovoked. I don’t wake up bored and decide to ruin someone’s Tuesday. I’m far too busy trying to keep my plants alive and my credit score up for that kind of hobby. I don’t start problems—I end patterns. There is a massive difference.

Most people are comfortable living in a cycle of toxic nonsense because they’re used to it. They expect you to keep taking the hits because “that’s just how they are.” Well, “how I am” is the person who hits the ‘Eject’ button. If you earn a certain version of me, please don’t act like you didn’t see the invoice coming. You placed the order; I just delivered it.

Accountability is My Love Language (and Your Nightmare)

I keep it buck. Always.

If I went off? I’ll tell you exactly why. If I blocked you? I’ll tell you which specific lie was the final straw. If I’m being “difficult,” it’s usually because I’m making it difficult for you to manipulate me.

I take full accountability for my reactions. If I was loud, I was loud. If I was cold, I was freezing. I don’t dodge the reality of how I respond to disrespect. But here is where I differ from the pathological liars and the “victim-players” of the world: I stand on it.

I’m not going to lie and say I’m a perfect angel. I have a temper for BS. But I will never, ever be the person who blames the entire world for my behavior while pretending my hands are clean.

The Anatomy of a “Villain” Response

We’ve all dealt with them: the narcissists who rewrite history, the manipulators who make you feel crazy for having feelings, and the people who wouldn’t know accountability if it sat on their lap.

When you deal with people like that, they have a script.

1. They cross a line.

2. You call them out.

3. They make you the “aggressor” for calling them out.

I decided to stop reading that script. Now, I just skip to the end. I don’t argue with people who are committed to misunderstanding me. I just change the locks—mentally, emotionally, and sometimes literally.

To the person playing the victim in a story they started: I see you. I see the way you conveniently leave out the part where you lied. I see the way you omit the three chances I gave you before I checked you. You can tell the world I’m the villain, but we both know the truth: you’re just mad that your tricks stopped working on me.

At the end of the day, I’d rather be the “villain” in a liar’s story than a “victim” in my own life.

I don’t play games, I don’t do “clueless,” and I certainly don’t do fake. If being real makes me the bad guy, then I guess I’m the baddest in the room. I’ll take the heat for my reaction, as long as we’re all clear on what triggered it.

I’m keeping it 100. Always. Because at least when I look in the mirror, I know exactly who is looking back—and she doesn’t owe anyone an apology for protecting her peace.