When You’re No Longer Pulled Into Other People’s Chaos

There’s something that happens when you become more grounded in yourself:
you start noticing the noise in other people.
Not the kind that comes from joy — but the kind that comes from chaos dressed up as charm.

At a party today, one of the mums opened up to me again.
She’s been emotionally open with me before, but this time it felt different.
She was joking with her partner — but the joke was about my co-parenting setup.
It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t even directly inappropriate.
But it felt off.

Like she was trying on my life for size.
Not out of empathy — but out of curiosity.
Like her overwhelm had become so loud that she needed a contrast.
And for a moment, I was the contrast.

That used to pull me in.
That invitation to be understood, or maybe to rescue someone.
Now it just makes me tired.

It reminded me of something I’ve seen before —
being triangulated into someone else’s discomfort.
Her partner didn’t seem at ease.
He never really has around me.
And it felt like she might’ve been leaning into that — even just subtly — to poke the bear.

I’ve lived that story.
I know how it ends.
And I’m not going back.

But not everyone felt like that.

Another mum I spoke to was different.
There was a lightness to her. A calmness.
She was clearly happy in herself — secure in her relationship — open, but never oversharing.
Just… steady. Present.

And I realised: I felt drawn to her.
Not in a romantic way — but in a deeply human way.
I admired the qualities she carries: the way she holds herself, the ease she brings into a room.

That’s what I’m looking for now.
Not in her — but in me.
In the people I let close.
In the kind of love I want, if it ever comes again.

I even tried to keep it light.
Tried to meet the other woman where she was without feeding into it.
I said, “I wish I had a partner I could joke about that kind of thing with.”
Twice.

Not to hint at anything — but to anchor the conversation in adulthood.
To say, “This is what emotional safety looks like to me.”

There was another mum sitting nearby.
She didn’t join in.
Didn’t say anything.
But something in her body language shifted.
It felt like she picked up on it too — that this wasn’t quite right.
Maybe not consciously. But I could feel it.

After that, I gently redirected the conversation.
I asked about her house — how she’s been decorating it, how it’s coming together.
Looking back, I think some part of me was reminding her —
You have a home. You built it. You chose this life. Don’t project something onto me that I’m not offering. I’m not interested, and it’s not healthy.
I didn’t say it aloud.
But I think she heard it anyway.

I’m no longer pulled into other people’s chaos.
I just notice it now — and quietly step around it.

Reflective Question for You:
Where in your life have you mistaken emotional intensity for emotional safety — and how would you know the difference now?