Do I Stay or Do I Go?

Sometimes the question isn’t about what’s objectively right — it’s about what’s right for now.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself: Do I really want to live here long term?

My home is mine.
I’ve poured energy into making it feel safe, more like me.
But outside those walls — on this street — there are people I’ve had to set strong boundaries with. People I can no longer speak to. And I have to walk past them nearly every day.

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The Daily Tension

There’s a tension in that.
Not fear, exactly — but discomfort.
A constant low hum in the background.

These aren’t just strangers. They’re people who’ve shown disrespect.
Maybe it came from something I triggered in them. Maybe my distance activated their own insecurities. But I don’t think it’s my job to psychoanalyze everyone who mistreats me.

I didn’t ask to play that role.
I just want peace.

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The Emotional Math

Moving feels drastic.
Expensive. Disruptive.
And — if I’m honest — like they might “win” if I left.

But staying also costs something.
That quiet draining feeling of being on edge. Of looking away. Of wondering whether a polite nod might trigger something again.

I don’t want to live like that forever.
But maybe… not forever doesn’t mean not now.

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Rooted, For Now

Right now, this place is still mine.
It’s stable.
It’s familiar.
It’s a foundation I’ve worked hard to build.

And while I don’t owe anyone small talk or neighbourly connection, I do owe myself the right to live without shame. To walk down the street with quiet dignity.
Even if that means ignoring.
Even if that means holding a boundary with grace.

I can stay — for now.
I don’t have to decide forever.
But I do get to choose based on what supports my nervous system today.

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Closing Thought

Sometimes staying put isn’t giving up — it’s reclaiming your space on your own terms.
And sometimes leaving isn’t losing — it’s choosing freedom.

Both are valid.
The key is knowing when each is right.

And today, I think I’ll stay.

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