Hey everyone, it’s Tina. Pull up a chair, grab a beverage—preferably something strong or caffeinated—and let’s have a real “kitchen table” talk. Let’s just jump right in, because if you’re reading this and nodding already, welcome. You’re my people.
I came across a quote today that hit me like a bag of wet flour, and since I know you guys can’t see the image I’m looking at, let me paint the picture for you. It basically said: “You’d be surprised how many people you been good to, talk about you like you ain’t sh*t.”
I paused. I blinked. I felt my left eyebrow do that twitchy thing it only does when the audacity of the world reaches peak levels. Because, lord, isn’t that the truth?
If you know me, you know I’ve got a bad habit of being a “fixer.” If your car breaks down, I’m checking my trunk for jumper cables. If your heart breaks, I’m showing up with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and enough tissues to clog a city sewer line. I’ve spent years paying what I call the “Tina Tax”—investing time, energy, and literal cash into people because I genuinely want to see them win.
But lately, I’ve been realizing that some people treat your kindness like a 24-hour buffet: they pile their plates high, eat until they’re full, and then complain to the person in the parking lot that the service sucked.
There’s this quiet realization that hits you one day—usually when you’re minding your business, drinking your coffee, or folding laundry—and it hits you sideways like, “Wow… I’ve really been good to a lot of people who absolutely did not deserve the VIP access they had to me.”
Have you ever noticed how some people develop sudden, acute amnesia the moment they don’t need you anymore? You can be the person who helped them polish their resume, the one who lent them fifty bucks when their bank account was screaming, or the one who sat on the phone until 2:00 AM listening to them cry.
But the second you aren’t “useful,” or—heaven forbid—you set a boundary, suddenly you’re the villain in their movie. I’ve had people I literally carried through a season of life go around telling others I’m “difficult.” I’m sitting here like, “Ma’am, I helped you hide the metaphorical bodies, and now I’m the one who’s shady?” The math isn’t mathing!
I used to think that if I showed up enough, loved hard enough, and gave grace instead of consequences, people would see me. Haha. That was cute, Tina. Real cute. What nobody prepares you for is that your kindness will make some people comfortable enough to disrespect you. Your silence will be mistaken for weakness. And your forgiveness? That’s just an open invitation for them to keep doing the same nonsense—just louder this time.
I’ve spent way too many hours over-analyzing this. I think it’s because it’s hard for some people to be grateful when they feel inferior. Admitting you helped them means admitting they needed help, and for some egos, that’s just too much to swallow. It’s much easier for them to talk down on your name than to level up their own character.
People don’t talk badly about you because you treated them poorly. They talk badly about you because you didn’t let them continue to treat YOU poorly. Read that again.
Some folks only like the version of you that had no boundaries, no voice, and no self-respect. The moment you stop overextending yourself, they feel exposed. And instead of self-reflecting, they rewrite history.
So, what do we do? Do we stop being good people? Do we become the villains they’re claiming we are? (I’ll admit, some days the “villain era” looks real tempting, mostly for the better outfits).
But honestly? No. Here is my current game plan:
1. Check the Source: If a lion is being criticized by a stray cat, the lion doesn’t stop to argue. Their words say way more about their character than mine.
2. Adjust the Guest List: My “inner circle” is starting to look more like a “huddle.” If I find out you’re talking about me like I’m nothing after I treated you like everything, consider your VIP pass revoked. No refunds, no exchanges.
3. Stop Explaining: I used to replay conversations in my head, wondering what I could’ve done differently. Now? I sleep just fine. I’m no longer explaining myself to people who already decided who I am.
I’m still gonna be Tina. I’m still gonna be kind. But I’m adding a “Standard Background Check” to my vibes. You don’t get the “Best Friend” version of me until you’ve proven you can handle the “Basic Human Decency” version first.
To anyone reading this who has been the “strong one,” the “reliable one,” and the one who eventually got tired and decided to choose yourself: I see you.
Let them talk. Let them misunderstand. Let them rewrite history if that’s what helps them sleep at night. You know who you are, and you’re miles ahead of them anyway.
Stay spicy, stay kind, and keep your side of the street clean.
Until next time,
Tina 💋
Does this resonate with anyone else, or is it just me and my twitching eyebrow today? Drop a comment and tell me a story about a time you encountered some “Grade A” audacity!