Today I had an interaction that left me completely drained.
At the time, I didn’t fully understand why.
But now that I’ve had space to reflect, I think I do.

It was a conversation that seemed, on the surface, simple enough — someone who’s read my blog, asking about how I view parenting, maybe even wanting to justify her own approach.

But it wasn’t simple. Not really.

Because I shared my truth. I spoke gently, but honestly, about my beliefs — beliefs shaped by a childhood where emotional expression wasn’t welcome.
And I think something I said struck a nerve in her.
Not because I was harsh — but because she saw herself in my story, and maybe that was uncomfortable.
After that, she seemed to withdraw. Shut down. I felt it.

And I kept replaying it in my head — wondering if I’d said too much, been too much.
But here’s what I’m realizing:

I didn’t perform. I didn’t abandon myself.
I showed up authentically. And still, it didn’t feel good afterward.

And that’s the part that hurts — because sometimes I imagine that being true to myself will always feel peaceful.
But it doesn’t always.
Sometimes it brings discomfort. Sometimes people pull away.
Sometimes I’m left feeling like I did something wrong, even when I didn’t.

Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle:

  • She was probably doing her best to navigate her own shame.
  • I was probably unconsciously hoping for validation.
  • And my body was tracking all of it — the tension, the effort, the unspoken emotional labor — before I even knew what was happening.

That’s why I crashed.
Not because I failed, but because I was holding a lot, all at once.

And now I see it more clearly.

Sometimes you can show up in your integrity, speak from the heart, and still leave an interaction feeling exhausted or misunderstood.
That doesn’t mean you were wrong to be yourself.
It just means that honesty, when it lands in someone’s sore spot, isn’t always received as connection.

Still, I’m proud of how I handled it.
No blame. No shaming. Just truth.
And if that was too much for her in that moment — that’s okay.

I’m learning to trust that being too much for the wrong person doesn’t mean I’m too much at all.

It means I’m healing.
And I’m here.