The Cost of Projection

I’m not angry at the ending.

I’m angry that it came wrapped in blame and bruised egos.

I’m angry that someone mistook my empathy for permission to unload everything they refused to face.

It’s wild how people can drag me into their storm, call me the thunder, and then play victim when I find my shelter.

I didn’t sign up to be a mirror for someone else’s trauma. I didn’t ask to be the stand-in for the people who broke them.

And I sure as hell won’t keep explaining that my healing doesn’t mean I'm handing out free passes to mistreat me.

I’ve spent years fighting to find peace in my own skin — clawing my way out of the wreckage left by people who couldn’t love without control. I’m still learning how to breathe through other people’s projections without losing myself again.

So when I hit that block button, it wasn’t petty.

It was powerful.

It was me protecting the version of myself I’ve worked too hard to rebuild.

If I won’t accept disrespect from my nearest and dearest, I won’t take it from someone who’s barely touched the surface of who I am.

I know my truth.

I know my integrity.

I know the weight of what I bring into this world — and I’ll never again let anyone make me question that.

You can call it whatever you want.

I call it closure.

I call it growth.

I call it survival.

And as for me — I’ll keep choosing the bear.

Steady. Grounded. Protective of what’s sacred.

Because peace isn’t passive.

It’s choosing myself, even when they call it hatred.

 🪶🫖 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉ℛℯ𝒶𝓁𝒯ℯ𝒶

🎨 Raven Shaolin Bluefeather