What happens when you're done with being "nice"

This is an almost too vulnerable piece to widely share online.

This is an almost too vulnerable piece to widely share online. I do it anyway purely with the hope it helps someone out there feel less alone.

But, as this is a very personal piece, I need to protect my peace and place some of the details behind the paywall. If you can’t afford to pay right now, I completely understand, and welcome you to check out these other free posts with similar realizations, lessons, and stories:

Hiding your sensitive self doesn’t seem like a big deal until you have no clue who you are

I remember the day I was chosen for the awards “best personality,” “friendliest,” and “best hair” by my classmates in 3rd grade.

what a wonderful day for a little sweet people-pleasing 8?-year-old like myself.

But this red-haired, friendly, kind woman has decided: I’m done with being nice.

Especially for the people who don’t respect, appreciate, or even care about me. They definitely won’t care about the way I’ve molded myself into something completely inauthentic so that they can feel better.

So I’ve realized I’m done with being nice…

But, going even deeper, I guess I’m in actuality done with being the victim.

This is hard for me to say, especially because I never ever viewed myself or thought of myself as needing to heal from a victim mentality.

I thought that was for other people. I thought other people pretended or acted or were the victim. They manipulated others to get what they wanted or needed. I wasn’t. I am not.

But I realized there are patterns in my life where I have been, or at least invite in some of the patterns of, being the victim.

But it was in 5th grade when I was suddenly, formally, without any warning, a victim.