The Loneliness of Being the "Bigger Person"When doing the right thing starts to feel like abandoning yourself.
There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from being kind for too long without it being seen. It almost sounds selfish to admit that, but it’s true. I certainly did not question it at first. I brushed it off, reminding myself that I’m being kind to others because that’s simply who I’m trying to be. That I try hard, because if I was in their situation, I’d want someone to show up for me too. But like everything else, there are limits. How many rimes can you keep giving your time, your energy, your patience—especially when it costs you—before something in you starts to shift? Before you being to feel the weight of it? Before you finally burn out…and realize that there’s no one there to catch you? Especially not the person you’ve been trying to hold up all along. It’s happened to be more times than I’d like to admit these past few months, across different parts of my life. I remained silent and pertinent through it all, reminding myself that: kindness isn’t supposed to be transactional. That feeling this way is normal. You help without expect anything in return, because that’s what we’re taught. That’s what I believed. But at what cost?What are you supposed to do when your kindness is being taken for granted? When it leaves you feeling alone, overlooked and quietly worn down? Because the truth is, this kind of patience doesn’t come naturally to me. Anyone who really knows me would tell you the same. I’ve had to work at choosing restraint over reaction, understanding over conflict. Not because it’s easy, but because I don’t want to create unnecessary tension. I don’t want to make things harder for others when they don’t have to be. I simply don’t want to waste my energy on something avoidable. But lately, it feels like none of that effort matters. No one sees how much it takes for me to stay quiet, when all I want nothing more than to scream. No one sees what it takes to remain patient, to hold myself back, swallow words that are both hurtful and true. And yet, what unsettles me most is how easily some people still take—and take—and simply keep taking. Without thought. Without consideration. Without even the basic decency to acknowledge what’s being given to them. I suppose it’s true what they say: age doesn’t necessarily reflect maturity. Emotional awareness does. But isn’t it exhausting? To face something like that everyday? To know you don’t deserve to be treated this way, and still feel powerless to act, because you’re the one who’s supposed to “know better”. The one expected to set the example. The one who’s always told to be the bigger person. That expectation can feel like a trap. But if there’s anything I’ve come to realize, it’s this: I love myself too much to stay in that toxic cycle.I’m grateful that, at the very least, I can recognize my own limits. That I can value my peace enough to protect it. Because even when I see people trying to pull from me, to take more than I can give, I know now when to step back. When to say: enough is enough. My kindness is not something to be taken for granted. And that doesn’t make me selfish. It makes me aware. Pulling away, creating boundaries, doesn’t mean abandoning people. It doesn’t mean our kindness is conditional or incomplete. It means we understand that kindness without limits becomes self-neglect. It means choosing where our energy goes. Choosing who gets access to that softer, more patient version of us. Because empathy is important. But so is self-respect. We can care for others, and still recognize when it’s no longer our responsibility to carry what was never ours to hold in the first place. And sometimes, the most honest form of kindness…is knowing when to let go. Sincerely, Cherie. The Whiffler is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can tell The Whiffler that their writing is valuable by pledging a future subscription. You won't be charged unless they enable payments.
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