It’s Not Personal

(But It Sure as Hell Feels Like It)

There’s a theory about bullying that has always stuck with me.

Not because I was bullied.
Not because I’m writing about bullying.

But because of the core idea: It’s not personal.

Which, frankly, feels like a lie the first 47 times you hear it. Because it always feels personal.

Someone snaps at you.
Someone ghosts you.
Someone you love suddenly feels cold, distant, off.

And your brain? Oh, your brain goes to WORK.

What did I do?
Did I say something wrong?
Why are they acting like this toward me?

Welcome to the spiral. Population: all of us.

Because we’ve been conditioned, especially as women, to assume responsibility for literally… EVERYTHING.

The mood.
The tone.
The outcome.
The cleanup.

Someone walks into a room with bad energy and we’re like…
How can I fix this? And also, is it my fault?

Except…plot twist…it’s not.

Most of the time, it has absolutely NOTHING to do with you.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: Most people are walking around completely consumed with themselves. Not in a malicious, evil, villain way. Just in a very human, very self-absorbed, very “I’m trying to survive my own life” kind of way.

They are out there living entire internal soap operas.

They’re stressed.
They’re insecure.
They’re triggered.
They’re projecting like it’s their full-time job.

And when that emotional mess needs somewhere to go?

Congratulations. You’re the nearest available surface.

I’ve started to see the patterns.

I call them The 3 D’s:

Deny.
Defend.
Dismiss.

It’s like a greatest hits album of emotional immaturity.

You bring something up → They deny it. “That didn’t happen.”
You push → They defend. “Well if it did, here’s why it’s not my fault.”
You try to have an actual conversation → They dismiss. “You’re overreacting.”

Ah yes. Classic. Timeless. Exhausting.

And somehow, you’re the one left questioning yourself. Wait… how did this become my fault?

Let me save you some time: It’s not.

It’s their lack of awareness.
Their inability to sit in discomfort.
Their refusal to take accountability.

And sometimes?
It’s just their bad day splashing all over you.

But here’s the part no one talks about:

Knowing it’s not personal doesn’t magically make you immune.

You still feel it.

You still go there. Because old habits don’t just pack up and leave.

They linger.
They whisper.
They try to drag you back into the same tired loop.

Until one day…you pause.

Not dramatically. Not perfectly. Just…enough.

And instead of immediately turning inward, you step back and go:

Huh. This feels off. But I don’t think this is mine. I’m not carrying this home with me.

And that right there? That’s growth.

Messy, imperfect, slightly sarcastic growth.

And then comes the part that really separates us who are done with this shit…

Boundaries.

Because it’s one thing to understand that someone else’s behavior isn’t about you.

It’s another thing entirely to stop bending yourself into a pretzel to accommodate it.

I’m learning to say yes to things that scare me.

And I’m also learning to say no to things that drain me.

Without a speech.
Without a paragraph.
Without a supporting PowerPoint presentation.

“I can’t make it.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
“I’m going to pass.”

Full sentence. Period. End scene.

And here’s where it gets real uncomfortable for people: I’m not managing their reaction anymore.

If they take it personally?
That’s theirs.

If they get weird about it?
Also theirs.

If they need an explanation to feel okay?

…still theirs.

Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

I am not responsible for managing someone else’s emotional weather system. (Read that again. And again.)

I can bring an umbrella.
I can step inside.
I can leave the storm entirely.

But I am not the climate.

And the irony?

The same grace I’ve been trying to extend to others - “It’s not personal.”

…I now have to allow for myself.

So when I say no…
when I pull back…
when I choose myself…

It’s not personal.

Not everything is about you.

And not everything is about me either.

And honestly? That’s where the freedom is.