Let’s talk about the specific, chaotic joy of killing people with kindness. And I don’t mean the sweet, genuine kindness you save for your kids or your best friend who brings you an iced Philz Tesora when you’re on the brink of a breakdown. I’m talking about the weaponized variety. The kind you deploy when you know someone absolutely cannot stand you, and you decide to treat them like they are the most delightful human being on earth.
I saw a meme the other day that said, “Being nice to people who hate you is fucking funny,” and I have never felt more seen in my life.
As a Leo, my natural instinct when disrespected is usually to burn the kingdom down. We are fire signs; we don’t typically do “subtle.” But at 33, I have learned that arson is illegal and exhausting. You know what’s infinitely more satisfying and requires way less cleanup? Confusing the hell out of your enemies with benevolence.
There is a certain intelligence required to pull this off. It’s a psychological chess move. When someone has decided they have a problem with you—maybe it’s a coworker who thinks they know how to do your job better than you, or maybe it’s the weird social drama that inevitably happens in adult friend groups—they are expecting a reaction. They want the friction. They want the drama because it validates their narrative that you are the problem.
When you refuse to give them that friction, when you meet their icy glare with a warm, beaming smile and a “So good to see you!,” you short-circuit their brain. You can practically watch the gears grind to a halt behind their eyes. They don’t know what to do with the data. Is she mocking me? Is she genuinely this oblivious? Did I imagine the beef?
It allows you to keep your hands clean while they roll around in the mud. It is, quite frankly, the ultimate power move.
I like to think of it as “The Energy Economy.” Anger is expensive. It costs you sleep, it spikes your cortisol, and it gives you wrinkles. Why am I going to spend that kind of currency on someone I don’t even like?
If I’m engaging in a shouting match or sending paragraph-long texts defending myself, I am handing over my power. But if I respond to a rude comment with, “Aw, I hope your day gets better!”? I have spent zero dollars. I am rich in peace. Meanwhile, they are bankrupting themselves trying to figure out why they can’t get under my skin. It’s simple economics.
I think being a nurse has sharpened this skill for me. I don’t work in the ER or Med Surg, so the chaos is different, but the need for patience is universal. You deal with people at their absolute worst—scared, angry, irrational. You learn very quickly that matching their energy gets you nowhere.
If a patient or a family member is being unreasonable, and I get angry back, I lose. But if I stay professional, calm, and maddeningly polite? I win. I maintain control of the room. It’s the same in real life. When you are juggling a career, two kids (including a pre-teen, which is its own level of psychological warfare), and a husband—who, love him to death, can sometimes be another child to manage—you realize you have a finite amount of emotional bandwidth.
Let’s be real, though: maintaining this level of Zen is hard. Especially lately. Between IVF appointments (and the hormones that come with them), managing the household while Mo was in Japan, and dealing with the usual Noah-related pre-teen angst, my fuse is naturally shorter.
There are days when I want to scream. There are days when the “Leo” jumps out and I want to tell everyone exactly about themselves. I watch Law & Order: SVU to unwind, and sometimes I think I relate a little too much to Stabler’s desire to just flip a table. But then I remember: Nothing annoys a hater more than your happiness.
If someone is gossiping about you, or being passive-aggressive in the group chat, or throwing shade, they are investing energy in you. If you respond with kindness, you are essentially saying, “I am too busy living my life, drinking my coffee, and minding my business to even notice you’re upset.”
My husband, Mo, doesn’t always get it. He’s the type to want to address things head-on. If someone is disrespectful, he wants to know why. But I’ve tried to explain to him that silence—or worse, cheerfulness—is a much louder statement.
While he was in Japan with his brother, I had a few situations pop up where I could have easily spiraled into drama. But I channeled my inner diplomat. I realized that if I let these people disrupt my peace while he was gone, I was letting them into my home. And my home is a no-fly zone for nonsense.
The funniest part is watching them try to maintain their anger when you aren’t fighting back. It’s like trying to play tennis against a wall of pillows. They hit the ball as hard as they can, expecting a smash return, and it just… lands softly. Thud.
So, the next time someone tries to test you—whether it’s a “mean girl” mom at school drop-off, a difficult relative, or just someone who thrives on conflict—try it. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t snap back. Flash them a smile that says, “I am unbothered, moisturized, and thriving.”
Watch them squirm. It’s cheaper than therapy, and honestly? It’s hilarious.