Okay, friends. We need to talk.
Usually, I come here to share the fun stuff, the weird stuff, or the “I-can’t-believe-this-happened-to-me” stuff. But today, we are going deep. I was scrolling through my feed, minding my own business, probably procrastinating on something important (more on that later), and I stumbled across a quote that didn’t just speak to me.
It basically stared into my soul like it knew my government name, reached out of the screen, and slapped me across the face with a wet fish.
You know the kind. The kind that makes you stop mid-scroll, squint, and whisper a quiet, offended, “How dare you?” before realizing, “Oh no. You’re right.”
Here is the offender in question:
“I don’t know who needs to hear this but in order to become a better person, you must first realise how horrible you really are. Not in the dramatic sense but in the quiet ways you sabotage yourself, repeat unhealthy patterns, hurt people who care about you or tolerate what wounds you. You cannot grow if you keep pretending you’re innocent in the story you created.”
I mean… ouch?
My immediate reaction was defensive. I thought, Excuse me? I am a delight! I am a ray of sunshine! I am the victim of circumstance and bad traffic and mercury retrograde!
But then I sat with it. I let the sting fade, and I realized that if we’re going to be real with each other on this blog, we have to talk about this. I realized that, apparently, the person who “needs to hear this” is me. Definitely me.
We all love to think we’re the hero of the movie. In the movie of my life, I am the plucky protagonist overcoming obstacles. I am never the villain. The villain is the person who cut me off on the freeway, or the barista who got my order wrong, or the ex who didn’t appreciate my genius.
I can write a whole novel on who wronged me, when, how, and why they were absolutely incorrect for doing so. I have footnotes. Receipts. PowerPoint slides if needed.
But this quote is asking us to look at the script again and realize that sometimes, we are the ones creating the drama. And the worst part? It’s rarely a dramatic, soap-opera evil. I’m not out here tying people to train tracks while twirling a mustache. I’m not kicking puppies.
No, my “horribleness” is much more subtle. It’s boring. It’s quiet.
It’s the sneaky kind.
The quote mentions “the quiet ways you sabotage yourself,” and I have never felt more seen. If self-sabotage was an Olympic sport, I’d be standing on the podium, crying while holding a gold medal I probably forgot to polish.
My version of being “horrible” isn’t malicious; it’s just… messy.
It’s setting an alarm for 6:00 AM to “seize the day” and then hitting snooze until 7:45 AM, starting my morning in a panic-fueled rage. Who did that? I did. I am the villain of my own morning routine.
It’s complaining about being tired but scrolling through TikTok until 2:00 AM watching videos of people restocking their fridges. (Why is that so soothing? Why?!)
It’s knowing I need to drink water but surviving entirely on iced coffee and anxiety, then wondering why I have a headache.
It shows up when I’m lying in bed at night replaying conversations from 2017, wondering why I said that instead of this. These are the “unhealthy patterns” the image talks about. We repeat them on a loop. We do the thing, we regret the thing, we promise never to do the thing again, and then… we do the thing.
It’s not dramatic evil, but it is a refusal to take care of ourselves. And isn’t that a specific kind of cruelty?
Then there’s the part about hurting people who care about us. This one stings the most.
I like to think I’m a good friend/partner/daughter/sister. But if I’m honest, my “innocence” is a lie.
How often do I take my stress out on the person who feels safest? I come home grumpy from a bad day and snap at someone who is just asking what I want for dinner. I withdraw and go silent when I’m overwhelmed, making the people who love me feel like they did something wrong. I say “I’m fine” when I’m clearly not, forcing everyone around me to walk on eggshells.
That is being “horrible in a quiet way.” It’s passive. It’s easy to overlook because I didn’t yell or throw a plate. But I still caused damage. I hurt people not because I want to, but because I haven’t healed the parts of myself that are still bleeding.
This was the line that really got me, the one that deserves a pause: “tolerate what wounds you.”
We usually think of being “horrible” as something we do to others. But this quote reminds us that treating ourselves badly is also a flaw.
How many times have I stayed in a situation—a job, a friendship, a mindset—way past its expiration date? How many times have I let a boundary be crossed because I didn’t want to be “difficult”?
I give grace until it turns into self-betrayal. I explain myself to people who already decided not to understand me. I repeat patterns I swore I healed from because they feel familiar—and familiarity is comfortable, even when it’s toxic.
I’ve had moments where I genuinely believed I was protecting myself, when really, I was avoiding accountability. I told myself I was “keeping the peace,” when I was actually scared of confrontation. I told myself I was “being understanding,” when I was just afraid of being alone.
Tolerating disrespect (from others or from yourself) is a character flaw. It’s a refusal to acknowledge your own worth. And pretending it’s because you’re “nice” or “forgiving” is just a lie we tell ourselves to avoid the conflict of standing up.
We love to talk about growth like it’s cute. Like it’s candles, journaling, affirmations, and aesthetic quotes on Instagram. But nobody really warns you that growth also looks like sitting with the realization that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as innocent in the story as you thought.
Not the villain. Not the hero. Just… human.
But here is the good news (and I promise there is some): Realizing this is actually incredibly freeing.
If I am the problem, then I can be the solution.
If my unhappiness is caused by “the universe” or “bad luck,” I’m helpless. But if my unhappiness is caused because I keep eating cheese at midnight and texting people I shouldn’t, then I have the power to change it.
Admitting you’re a little bit horrible is the first step to being actually good. It stops the performance. You don’t have to be the perfect Disney princess anymore. You can just be a human who is trying to figure it out, who sometimes messes up, but who is willing to look in the mirror and say, “Okay, Tina. We need to stop doing that.”
Growth isn’t about shame—it’s about ownership. And ownership is powerful.
It’s saying, “I didn’t know better then, but I do now.”
It’s choosing to break cycles instead of romanticizing them.
It’s apologizing—not just to others, but to yourself—for the times you abandoned your own needs.
So, to everyone reading this: You’re probably a little bit horrible, too. And that’s okay. Welcome to the club. The meetings are on Tuesdays, we have snacks (that we probably shouldn’t eat), and the first rule is that we stop pretending we’re innocent.
Let’s grow up, mess up, and own it.
This is Stories from Tina.
Still learning. Still growing.
Still occasionally the problem—but now at least I’m aware of it. 😉
Until next time,
Tina