08/03/2025
💯
Don't you hate when you tell someone you no longer talk to a family member and their response is, "life's too short"?
As if it's just a petty disagreement or a minor misunderstanding I should get over. As if I haven't spent countless nights lying awake, questioning my decisions, blaming myself, or hoping that maybe this time things would be different. They say it so casually, not realizing the depth of what went on behind closed doors—the gaslighting, the manipulation, the emotional rollercoasters, and the constant sense of walking on eggshells around someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally.
Yes, life is short. That’s exactly why I chose peace over pretense, healing over obligation, and boundaries over enabling toxic behavior—regardless of titles like "mother," "father," "sibling," or "blood." Family should mean safety, love, and mutual respect, not cycles of abuse hidden under the disguise of tradition or loyalty.
People love to preach forgiveness when they haven’t had to survive the kind of wounds that don’t always show on the outside. They weren’t there for the years of subtle jabs, the guilt trips, the blame-shifting, and the moments I was made to feel small, invisible, or crazy. They didn’t see the gaslighting disguised as concern, or the manipulation disguised as love. They didn’t witness the silent treatment, the emotional blackmail, or the way I was expected to carry their burdens while mine were ignored.
I didn’t walk away lightly—I broke my own heart in the process. I grieved the version of them I hoped they could become. I mourned the family I desperately wished I had. But after years of disappointment and emotional exhaustion, I finally understood: loving them from a distance was the most loving thing I could do for myself.
So no, I don’t need to be told that life is short. I know. That’s why I’m done wasting it on people who continuously hurt me, who never take accountability, and who think their title gives them a free pass to mistreat me. My time, energy, and peace are sacred now. I refuse to spend what little time I have left tolerating toxic dynamics just to make other people comfortable.
Sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is walk away—not out of hatred, but out of love for yourself.