What Stayed With Me
Editor’s note: Written from my current vantage point.
Welcome back, beautiful hearts and kinds souls, to another chapter in The Practice of Being Seen series. This series is about showing up honestly, even when it’s uncomfortable. It explores the moments that shape us: overthinking, vulnerability, being misunderstood, and learning how to express ourselves without performing for acceptance.
Now if you missed the first post of this series, Without the Right Words, I reflected on the emotional weight of overthinking, being misunderstood, and feeling like you need to have the “right” words just to be heard. You can read that post here.
Let’s get started, shall we?
Have you ever heard something about yourself that you wanted to reject immediately but couldn’t fully let go of? If so, you’ve made it to the right place. And if you’re wondering, I’ve been there too. While it may not be something to easily confront yourself about, there are certain conversations that stay with you long after they end. Not because they were loud or dramatic, but because they touched something you weren’t fully ready to handle quite yet.
At first, my instinct was to defend myself. To explain, to push back, and convince myself it didn’t matter as much as it did while another part of me wanted to reject it completely. Yet still, something lingered.
It wasn’t that I fully agreed with it nor did I suddenly believe someone else understood me better than I knew myself. Rather somewhere underneath my reaction, there was something I couldn’t entirely ignore either.
In other words, “I don’t fully agree with it, but I couldn’t fully dismiss it either.”
And over time, that stayed with me in ways I didn’t expect. Now necessarily changing who I was, but changing the way I saw myself, the way I responded to certain situations, and the way I moved through them afterward.
The feedback that stayed with me the most wasn’t always the loudest. Sometimes it was a sentence. A label. A way someone chose to interpret me that felt completely disconnected from my intentions.
One time, I was told I was “too sensitive” for bringing attention to an issue. Part of that stayed with me because there was truth inside it. I’ve always been sensitive. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. But the way it was said made it feel less like an observation and more like a dismissal.
Cold. Condescending, even.
What hurt wasn’t being called sensitive. It was feeling like my emotions were being used to discredit my experience instead of understanding it.
I remember sitting there in disbelief.
That was one of the first times I had openly shown emotion in that environment, which only made the reaction even more confusing. I replayed the situation constantly, trying to understand how they reached that conclusion without asking questions, without context, or without trying to understand where I was coming from at all.
Another time, I was told that something I sent came off “negative and condescending.”
That one hit differently.
I didn’t believe it, yet I still questioned myself afterward.
What if I did sound that way without realizing it? What if my intentions weren’t coming across clearly? What if people were seeing something in me that I couldn’t see in myself?
That experience stayed with me long after it happened. It touched an insecurity I already had, the fear that I wasn’t communicating as clearly as I thought I was. So instead of feeling understood, I was reduced to a version of myself that didn’t feel true at all.
What frustrated me most in both situations was the lack of curiosity.No one asked questions. No one asked what I meant. No one seemed interested in context, intention, or understanding. Conclusions were made before I ever had the chance to speak for myself. And I think that’s why my reaction afterward felt so immediate:
Explain yourself. Clarify. Make them understand.
It wasn’t about “winning.” I genuinely couldn’t understand how people could walk away with such distorted versions of who I was and what I meant.
After the first situation, I replayed everything constantly. Trying to understand how being emotional suddenly became something negative. Trying to convince myself maybe they had misunderstood. Because to me, sensitivity was never something shameful. If anything, it was one of the better parts of myself. The part that made me empathetic, introspective, and aware of how other people feel. So hearing it framed in such a dismissive way hurt more than I expected.
And so, for a long time I carried that with me. Not fully believing they were right, yet still questioning myself afterward.
The second experience felt different. By then, I had already started realizing that some people don’t actually want understanding, they want confirmation of whatever version of you they’ve created in their mind. So when I was called “negative and condescending,” part of me rejected it immediately. And part of me ruminated afterward.
It wasn’t that I doubted my intentions, but I questioned whether I was failing to communicate them clearly enough. And that’s what stayed with me. Not just the comments themselves, but the pressure they created afterward.
The pressure to prove myself. To over-explain. To monitor my wording more carefully. To make sure there was no possible way I could be misunderstood again.
Eventually, I had to come to the exhausting realized that no amount of explaining changes people who have already decided not to understand you.
And maybe that’s why these experiences stayed with me for so long.
The criticism wasn’t just what lingered, it was the history. The unfairness. The confusion. The powerlessness of trying every avenue you could think of and still feeling unheard.
At some point, it stopped being about a single situation. It became months. Then years.
Different people. Different environments. Different versions of the same feeling:
Not fitting in. Not feeling emotionally safe. Feeling like no matter how honest or genuine I tried to be, people still found ways to misunderstand me or reduce me to moments that didn’t fully reflect who I was.
Over time, I started second-guessing everything. My reactions. My communication. My trust in people. Even myself.
Repeated experiences like that slowly make you question your own reality, especially when you already tend to be so hard on yourself.
Looking back now, I realize how much compassion and understanding I naturally extend to other people while struggling to offer that same grace to myself.
I kept trying to resolve the situation instead of trusting what I already felt in my gut. Part of me replayed everything endlessly, hoping there was an explanation that would make the pain easier to understand. Maybe they misunderstood. Maybe they didn’t realize the impact they had. Maybe if someone had communicated honestly or directly, things could’ve turned out differently.
Some of those questions never got answered. Maybe they never will. And that realization changed me too. Not all in ways I like. But it’s real.
I still have the same heart. The same values. The same desire to understand people deeply. Except I’m more careful now. I’m more aware of who I allow close to me. More observant of whether someone’s actions align with their words. More protective of the parts of myself that once felt emotionally unsafe in the hands of the wrong people.
One of the hardest things I had to accept was that not everyone approaches conflict, misunderstanding, or vulnerability with care. Not everyone wants understanding. Not everyone wants accountability. Not everyone is willing to sit in discomfort long enough to hear another person honestly.
But experiences like the ones I mentioned follow you. Into future conversations. Future relationships. Future versions of yourself.
They shape how safe you feel expressing emotion. How quickly you trust people. How much explaining feels necessary before you can relax.
For a long time, I hated that. I hated how hyperaware I became after the fact. How guarded I needed to be. How much these experiences changed me.
At my core, I still want to believe in the good of people. I still want to believe most understandings can be worked through with honestly, accountability, curiosity, and care. However, reality taught me something even harder: Some people want comfort. Some want control. Some only want confirmation of the version of you they already created in their mind. And no amount of explaining can force someone to see you clearly once they’ve decided otherwise.
Perhaps you can relate with this, but I spent so much of my life believing that if I just explained myself well enough, honestly enough, calmly enough, people would eventually understand my heart. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes people misunderstand you. Sometimes they project onto you. Sometimes they reduce you to a single reaction, mistake, or moment. And sometimes, you carry the weight of that long after they’ve moved on from it.
So, what I’m learning now is this. Being seen isn’t about convincing everyone to understand you perfectly. It’s about staying connected to yourself even when they don’t. It’s trusting your intentions without over-explaining yourself into exhaustion. It’s recognizing that sensitivity is not weakness. That caring deeply is not shameful. That being impacted by painful experiences doesn’t make you dramatic, it makes you human. And maybe most importantly, the right people won’t make you fight so hard just to be understood.
They’ll ask questions. They’ll communicate. They’ll care about your perspective too.
Not perfectly. But honestly.
And I think that’s what stayed with me the most after all this. Not just how deeply words can impact someone, but how deeply the absence of understanding can be too.
So, if you’ve ever found yourself replaying conversations, questioning yourself, or carrying the weight of being misunderstood longer than anyone realized, I hope this reminds you that there’s usually more beneath the surface than anyone sees. And maybe before rushing to judge someone’s reaction, emotions, or communication, we should spend more time trying to understand what might be underneath it first.
With that, today’s post comes to an end. The next post in this series is “Not For Everyone,” and it’ll be available on Monday, May 18th. Until then, sending you love and light on your journey.
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
