Control Dressed Up as Kindness

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Not all kindness is kind.

Some of it is sharp underneath—
a manipulation wrapped in warmth,
a demand disguised as a gift,
a subtle tether that pulls when you try to walk away.

I’ve known this version of “kindness” well.
It’s the favour I didn’t ask for,
the help that came with strings,
the smile that said you owe me now.

And I think the hardest part is that it looks like love.

It’s the sort of care that earns praise from the outside,
while slowly eroding your self-trust from the inside.
You start to wonder:
Am I ungrateful?
Am I imagining things?

But deep down, you know.
Because real kindness doesn’t make you smaller.
It doesn’t make you second-guess yourself.
It doesn’t tighten its grip when you grow.

Real kindness opens doors.
It doesn’t close them behind you.

I’ve started to notice when something feels off—
when my body tenses even as someone offers help,
when the “yes” I’m giving is soaked in guilt,
when I feel less free after being “cared for.”

These are signs.
They’re not overreactions.
They’re wisdom.

And I’m learning that it’s okay to walk away from kindness that’s really control.
Even if it’s subtle.
Even if it’s “nice.”
Even if everyone else praises it.

Because I’ve learned that the most radical thing I can do
is to trust my gut—
and choose the version of love that lets me breathe.

If any part of this resonates, know this:
You don’t have to keep betraying yourself just to be polite.
You’re allowed to name it.
You’re allowed to leave.