Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
There was a season of my life where I mistook endurance for strength.
I tolerated crossed boundaries.
I explained myself more than necessary.
I believed that if I stayed calm enough, helpful enough, available enough — things would stabilize.
They didn’t. In fact it worsened.
That phase was difficult to say goodbye to because it was familiar.
I knew how to survive in it. I knew how to anticipate reactions. I knew how to soften my tone to prevent storms.
Leaving it meant accepting something harder than conflict:
accepting that some systems only function when you stay small.
I had to stop negotiating with dynamics that required me to disappear.
The hardest part wasn’t walking away.
It was resisting the urge to turn back and “fix” what was never mine to fix.
Now my approach is different.
If something violates my invariants, it doesn’t get a debate — it gets distance.
I don’t bend at curves anymore.
I pivot at right angles.
And that shift has cost me comfort
but it has given me clarity.
