There was a moment in class where I spoke up about something that had been bothering me.
I had handed in many assignments, and they hadn’t been marked for a very long time.
It was frustrating, and when the group was doing the usual check-in, I voiced it.

I think I caught the tutor off guard. I even caught myself off guard.
Her response was to reflect it back onto me — asking why it annoyed me so much,
as though the problem was within me. Later in the year, she even brought it up again,
describing the situation in a way I didn’t recognise.

When she suggested I “write about it” as if it were an assignment, I said no.
It wasn’t something I wanted to unpack in front of the whole group.
But she kept pressing, and then told me it was amazing how much self-control I had,
as if she expected me to lash out. That assumption didn’t sit right with me either.

I realised I had actually shown a lot of growth by simply voicing my frustration.
In the past, I might have gone quiet and suppressed it. This time, I communicated.
And still, she never apologised for her behaviour, even when I said I didn’t want to
discuss it further. She pushed and pushed in front of everyone.

Months later, in Level 4, she admitted openly that she hates marking and always
leaves it to the last minute. That’s when it clicked: my comment in that moment
hadn’t just come out of nowhere — it had landed right on her own shame.
Rather than owning that, she deflected it back onto me.

I can own my part in this. My inner child was triggered by the feeling of working hard
and not being recognised. That’s real for me. But it also felt imbalanced,
because she wanted me to own all of it, as if she had no responsibility at all.

Looking back, I can see more clearly: my intuition was right.
Her defensiveness said more about her than it did about me.
And when I doubt myself, I need to remember moments like this —
that clarity does come with time, and that trusting my initial sense of things
isn’t a weakness. It’s permission to keep listening to myself.