Let Them Say I’m Mad

There was a time when I feared this moment.

The moment they found what I’d written.
The moment the people I’d spent years untangling myself from finally saw it all — unfiltered, unsoftened, unhidden.

And now that it’s likely happened?
I feel… calm. Almost peaceful.

They’ll say things, I’m sure:

“He’s unstable.”
“He’s tired all the time.”
“He’s saying strange things online.”
“He cut off his mother — how ungrateful.”

And maybe they’ll think it’s all coming from some kind of madness.

But it’s not.

It’s coming from finally being grounded enough to speak.
From not carrying their shame anymore.
From trusting that I can be tired, reflective, flawed — and still be safe.

---

“I’m tired of being judged by people who are determined to misunderstand me.”

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being seen through the wrong lens — over and over again.

When you speak from your heart and they hear threat.
When you set a boundary and they call it selfishness.
When you express tiredness and they label it instability.

Some people don’t want to understand you — because understanding you would require them to look at themselves.

And I’m done shrinking myself to stay palatable to people committed to a version of me that’s easier for them to digest.

I don’t need to be universally understood.
I just need to be real.
And I am.
Even if they never see it.

---

They don’t know that I’m writing with the support of tools and a process that helps me stay regulated.
They don’t know how much love I pour into my son.
They don’t know how much peace I’ve found in not needing to be defended, explained, or saved.

So… let them say I’m mad.

Because I know I’m not.
And maybe for the first time in my life, that’s enough.

— Written in the early hours of the morning, by someone who is finally okay with being seen.