I’m Done Taking Things Personally

Somewhere along the way, I started acting like life was mad at me.

Not in a dramatic way.
Just… constantly disappointed.

Traffic wasn’t just traffic.
It was rude.

A plan falling through didn’t feel inconvenient — it felt suspicious.
Like, interesting choice, universe.

Someone being short with me?
Obviously a referendum on my entire personality.

I moved through my days with the low-grade assumption that life was watching me closely — and taking notes.

And I was failing.

What’s funny is that none of this involved actual disasters.

It was regular stuff.

A late start.
A weird email.
A kid meltdown at the exact wrong time.
A day that went off-script for no clear reason.

Normal life.

But I wasn’t experiencing it like normal life.
I was experiencing it like feedback.

Like each small inconvenience was whispering, See? this is why you can’t handle things.

Which is exhausting — not because things are hard, but because everything feels personal.

At some point, I finally paused long enough to ask a question that should’ve occurred to me much earlier:

Why am I taking this so personally?

Why does traffic feel like it’s out to get me?
Why does a bad mood feel like I did something wrong?
Why does a slightly off day trigger the same internal response as actual danger?

None of these things were attacking me.
They weren’t judging me.
They weren’t even about me.

They were just… happening.

To everyone.

All the time.

Somehow, that realization was oddly comforting.

Not in a “wow, life makes sense now” way.
More like, oh. I’m not under review.

Life wasn’t grading my performance.
It wasn’t keeping score.
It wasn’t sending subtle messages I was failing to decode.

It was just being life.

So I tried something small.

When something went wrong, instead of immediately spiraling into,
what does this say about me,
I tried saying,
is this just annoying?

No meaning.
No verdict.
No life lesson.

Just… annoying.

Traffic didn’t need a backstory.
A hard day didn’t need an identity crisis.
A moment of irritation didn’t need to mean I was doing life badly.

This didn’t turn me into a zen person.
I still get annoyed.
I still mutter under my breath.
I still have days where everything feels louder than it should.

But I stopped assuming it was personal.

And that one shift —
not treating every inconvenience like a message —
made life feel quieter.

Not easier.

Just… less hostile.

Which, honestly,
is a huge improvement.