The boundaries you fail to set, the disrespect you tolerate, the excuses you accept — they all shape the life you live and the person you become. It’s easy to point fingers, to blame others for how they treat you, but the harder truth is this: people will only do what you permit. If you allow inconsistency, you’ll receive it. If you enable half-hearted effort, that’s exactly what you’ll get. Life doesn’t hand out respect freely; it mirrors the standards you set for yourself.
But here’s the thing — we all have this miraculous ability to sympathize and empathize with others. Imagine your best friend, your sibling, someone you’d move mountains for, being disrespected, overlooked, treated as an afterthought. You’d be furious. You’d jump to their defence without hesitation, telling them they deserve better, that they shouldn’t put up with it, that they’re worth more than the crumbs they’re being given. So why is it that when it’s you in that situation, you let it slide? Why do you swallow the hurt, make excuses, pretend it doesn’t matter when it clearly does? Why is your compassion reserved for everyone except yourself?
Is it fear? Fear of confrontation, of being seen as difficult, of losing people? But here’s the uncomfortable truth — if setting boundaries makes someone leave, they were never truly there for you to begin with. Relationships that crumble under the weight of basic respect were never solid to start with. Maybe that’s what you’re really afraid of — not digging deeper into the situation, but uncovering the reality that some people only love you when it’s easy when it costs them nothing.
You carry the weight of the people you let go, but you also carry the weight of the ones you choose to keep. And that weight should not be unbearable. There is a difference between love and obligation, between loyalty and self-betrayal.
You should not have to set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.
Uncomfortable conversations create healthy relationships. They force clarity, set expectations, and reveal who’s willing to meet you halfway. Silence doesn’t keep the peace; it only preserves the illusion of it. Bottling up resentment, letting things slide, telling yourself, “It’s not worth bringing up” — it’s like swallowing poison and expecting the other person to feel the pain. You can’t build meaningful connections on the shaky foundation of unspoken truths.
“I used to come to you whenever I was struggling. But now, I will no longer reach for you. Not now, not in the future.”
That’s why when someone apologizes, you say “Thank you,” not “It’s okay.” Because it wasn’t okay. It mattered. Brushing it off doesn’t make you forgiving; it makes you dishonest with yourself. Acknowledging hurt doesn’t mean you’re holding a grudge — it means you’re holding people accountable. You’re not here to comfort those who hurt you. You’re here to honour your own feelings, to stand up for the version of you that deserved better the first time.
“It’s better to choose to be alone than to be left alone.”
You are what you allow. And maybe it’s time you allowed more — for yourself. In other words, stand the fuck up.
