Chandana AlluruI have always been that person for the people closest to me. The one they could count on, the one who would listen without judging, understand without needing explanations, and stay when things became difficult. I have gone out of my way, and sometimes far beyond my own limits, just to make the people I love feel safe. If someone needed support, I showed up. If someone needed space, I gave it. If someone was going through something, I tried to understand their side before even thinking about mine. That is simply how I have loved the people who mattered to me.
But somewhere along the way, being understanding became something people started taking for granted.
Maybe because I was always willing to understand, people assumed I would understand anything. They could disappear for days or months, shut me out without an explanation, make decisions based entirely on their own circumstances, or misunderstand me without ever asking what I was going through. Someone could block me overnight because it was easier for them, without giving a thought to the fact that I might need an explanation, a conversation, or simply some closure. And somehow, their comfort always seemed to matter more than the impact it had on me.
What hurts is not that people have their own struggles. I have always understood that. What hurts is the assumption that their struggles automatically make their actions understandable, while mine somehow make me difficult when I finally speak about them.
I can understand your situation and still have a situation of my own. I can respect your boundaries and still have boundaries of my own. I can care about what you are going through without pretending that what you did to me did not hurt. My time matters too. My attention matters too. My feelings are not less important simply because I have always been good at understanding yours.
For a long time, whenever I tried to stand up for myself, I found myself questioning whether I was being unfair. I would explain myself again, soften my words again, give another benefit of the doubt, and somehow end up carrying the guilt for asking for something as basic as consideration.
I am tired of that.
Standing up for myself does not mean I have stopped being empathetic. It does not mean I suddenly care less. It simply means I have finally understood that being a safe space for everyone does not mean I have to make myself unsafe in the process.
I will still be kind. I will still care deeply. I will still show up for the people I love. But I will no longer confuse understanding someone with excusing everything they do to me.
And if protecting my peace or standing up for my time makes me the wrong person in someone else’s version of the story, I think I can finally live with that.
Because for once, I am not choosing to understand everyone at the cost of understanding myself.
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