So, I was scrolling through my phone this morning, waiting for the caffeine from my Philz to actually kick in (why does 6 AM feel like the middle of the night lately?), and I saw this quote. You know the kind—the black background, white text, “truth bomb” variety that usually makes you roll your eyes?
But this one? I felt this one in my soul.
It said: “People lack accountability, then say, ‘You could’ve talked to me.’ No, I couldn’t. You don’t listen. You deflect. You twist everything into an attack and then play victim…”
I literally almost dropped my cup. I wanted to print it out, frame it, and mail it to… well, let’s just say a few people who shall remain nameless (but if you’re reading this and you think it’s about you, maybe sit with that).
Here is the thing about being 33. I feel like I finally hit that age where my “Tolerance for Nonsense” meter didn’t just break; it completely evaporated. Between raising Noah and his sister, keeping the tiny humans alive, managing the household with Mo, and working as a nurse—my emotional bandwidth is already operating at a deficit.
When you work in nursing, you learn pretty quickly that you can’t reason with delirium. You just have to keep the patient safe and move on. The problem is, I’m starting to realize a lot of fully conscious, functioning adults in my personal life are walking around with emotional delirium. And I am off the clock.
We all know that one person (or three) who loves to hit you with the, “I wish you would have just told me how you felt!”
Okay, sure. But let’s play back the tape of the last time I tried to tell you how I felt.
Phase 1: The Deflection.
I say, “Hey, it hurt my feelings when you did X.”
You say, “Well, I wouldn’t have done X if you hadn’t done Y three years ago during a lunar eclipse.”
…Okay, cool. So we’re time traveling now.
Phase 2: The Victim Card.
I say, “I just need you to hear me.”
You say, “Wow. I guess I’m just the worst person in the world then. I can never do anything right. Everyone hates me.”
And suddenly, I’m the one comforting YOU for hurting ME. It’s truly a magic trick.
Phase 3: The Exhaustion.
This is the part where I just stop talking. Not because I agree with you, but because I have to go pick up my kids, or go to work, or just stare at a wall in silence for five minutes.
Being a Leo, I am loyal to a fault. I will ride at dawn for my people. I will fight your battles. I will be your biggest hype woman. But the flip side of that Leo energy? If you cross the line of disrespect one too many times, or if you refuse to take accountability for your own chaos? I’m done. The door slams, and it locks.
The quote says, “Conversations with you aren’t healing, they’re exhausting.” And that is the absolute truth.
I used to think that “being the bigger person” meant sitting there and taking it, explaining myself until I was blue in the face, trying to get them to understand my perspective. I thought if I just explained it one more time, they’d get it.
But at this stage in my life? I’m realizing that “being the bigger person” actually just means walking away. It means realizing that some people listen to respond, not to understand. It means realizing that some people only show up to “win” the conversation.
And honestly? You can have the win. Take the trophy. I don’t want it.
I want my peace.
I want to spend my energy on my husband, my kids, and the friends who actually recharge my battery instead of draining it. I want to drink my iced coffee without a side of gaslighting.
So, if you’ve noticed I’ve gone quiet? It’s not because I don’t have anything to say. It’s because I’ve realized you aren’t safe to say it to.
And for everyone else out there dealing with an “energy vampire” who refuses to take accountability? Take this as your permission slip. You don’t owe them an explanation. You don’t owe them “one more talk.”
Protect your peace. It’s the only luxury we can’t afford to lose.
xo,
Tina