I’m sitting here on the couch, sipping on an iced Tesora heavy cream, sweet, literally just the way the universe intended and thinking about how completely exhausting it is to be wired the way I am.
You know the type of person I’m talking about. When someone does you dirty, you want to be mad. You deserve to be furious. The Leo in me is completely prepared to unleash a fiery, dramatic, scorched-earth response when someone acts entirely out of pocket. I want to match energy! I really do. But before I can even formulate a properly devastating comeback, the nurse in me takes over. My brain is permanently stuck in assessment mode. When someone comes at me with unprovoked negativity, my first reaction isn’t anger anymore; it’s a mental clipboard checklist.
I was scrolling the other day and came across a meme on social media and I have never felt so spiritually seen by a piece of text on the internet. It perfectly captured my entire internal monologue: “Hating me is pointless I’m just gonna psychoanalyze the behavior, trace it back to your childhood, figure out exactly why you’re like this and somehow end up feeling bad for you. Now I’m not even mad, I’m concerned”.
That is it. That is the absolute curse of being an empathetic over-thinker.
Let me give you a prime example. Just last week, someone cut me off in traffic. And not just a normal, accidental lane change; they swerved in and gave me the most aggressive, soul-piercing glare, as if I had personally offended their ancestors by simply existing in the same lane. For a split second, my blood pressure spiked. The Leo jumped out, and I was absolutely ready to offer a piece of my mind through my windshield.
But then, almost instantly, the psychoanalysis began. Look at that white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, my brain whispered. That’s not about me. That’s displaced aggression. Did they not get enough validation from their parents growing up? Are they projecting a deep-seated fear of losing control in their personal life onto this afternoon commute? Is their boss micromanaging them?
Within three blocks, I had completely outlined a tragic backstory for this stranger. By the time we hit the next red light, I wasn’t plotting revenge; I was genuinely worried they weren’t hydrating enough and wondering if they needed a hug, a weighted blanket, or a nap.
Honestly, it ruins all the fun of a good grudge. You literally can’t sustain a proper feud when you’re busy dismantling the other person’s defense mechanisms in your head. I try to explain this to Mo, and he just laughs at me because he knows exactly how predictable I am. I’ll come home, drop my bags, and start venting about someone being incredibly rude at the grocery store. I’ll be pacing, gesturing, fully in my feelings. And then, ten minutes later, I’ll just deflate, sigh into my coffee, and say, “Honestly, babe, it probably stems from an insecure attachment style. They’re just hurting.”
It’s so annoying! Sometimes I just want to be petty. I want to hold a grudge without accidentally diagnosing the person’s emotional wounds. I miss the days when I could just say, “Wow, what a jerk,” and move on. But no, I have to go and do the most inconvenient thing possible: I have to care.
It’s a wild way to live because society tells us to clap back. The internet runs on clapbacks and perfectly executed shade. But when you look at people and realize that their bad behavior is usually just a loud, messy cry for help or a symptom of something they haven’t healed from, the anger just dissolves. You realize that most of the time, someone else’s hostility has absolutely nothing to do with you. You’re just the closest target.
So, to anyone who might harbor some weird, unspoken negativity toward me, just know that your efforts are entirely wasted. You’re trying to start a fire, and I’m over here trying to figure out if you need a referral for a good therapist and maybe a nice, warm bowl of homemade Okra soup to soothe your soul. I can’t even be properly offended because I’m too busy figuring out how your unresolved childhood angst brought us to this exact moment in time.
It’s a ridiculous way to live, but at least it keeps the drama to a minimum and protects my peace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a massive biology textbook to decipher, the rest of this Philz coffee to finish, and a very spoiled white Shih Tzu named Daisy who is currently staring at me like she needs my undivided attention immediately.