There are moments in life that leave you shaken not because something big happened, but because of the why behind it.
Recently, I had an interaction with someone who intentionally tried to sabotage something I was building. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate.
And it rattled me.
Not because it worked.
Not because I hadn’t faced challenges before.
But because I couldn’t wrap my mind around the motivation.
I’ve experienced this kind of energy a number of times. People who’ve tried to tear me down, block something I was creating, or slow my momentum. And each time, I’m stunned.
Once the anger and hurt pass, I’m left just… confused.
Because I can’t imagine doing that to someone else. I don’t have a reference point.
And so my brain, in its very human way, starts spinning:
Why would someone do this?
What are they trying to gain?
Was it something I did?
How do I avoid this happening again?
It’s a loop of searching for logic in illogic.
For empathy in actions that don’t come from love.
And after a lot of mental gymnastics and trying to trace back the threads, I landed on something unexpected:
I don’t want to understand.
I don’t want to make sense of that wiring.
I don’t want to relate to the desire to cause harm.
To the impulse to sabotage.
To the need to diminish someone else’s light in order to feel worthy.
Because I don’t want to contort my heart to fit into that frame.
I’d rather not “get it.”
I’d rather stay confused than become calloused.
That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in compassion.
I do. Fiercely.
But I’ve learned that compassion doesn’t always require comprehension.
You can offer grace without inviting someone’s chaos into your psyche.
You can say, “hurt people hurt people,” and leave it at that.
You don’t need to excavate someone else’s pain to know it’s not yours to carry.
And if you’ve been there—on the receiving end of someone else’s projection, sabotage, or cruelty—this is for you:
You’re not alone.
You didn’t deserve it.
And you don’t have to understand it to move forward with integrity.
Some energies are best left uninterpreted.
Some acts don’t require a lesson—just a boundary.
And some people are simply mirrors, showing you how not to be.
Let them go.
Hold yourself close.
And keep building what matters.
Because your time, your presence, your gifts?
They’re too valuable to waste on trying to make sense of someone else’s bitterness.
You’re here to create, not to contort.
To expand, not to explain.
To shine, even if someone else tries to dim the light.
And that—in itself—is your power.
Reclaiming your power is a practice.
One that asks you to turn inward, again and again, and choose yourself.
If you’re ready to do that with support—to stop spinning in someone else’s story and start standing in your own—I’d love to walk alongside you in coaching.
