When endless sympathy becomes imprisoned By my open notes August 2025

And why can walk away are the most loving things you do at all.

There are some people in my life who have made an endless sympathy for an endless invitation.

I will be real … my sympathy did not make things better.

He did not “heal them.”

No “reformed” to us.

The expiration date of the authority has extended something that should have ended long ago.

So I had to ask myself the questions that I was avoiding. Does my understanding make this better, or just keep it alive? And when I am the person who needs grace … do they return it? Did they meet me at the same level of sympathy that I poured into it?

Because this is what I learned. When the sympathy just runs in one direction, it stops love, becomes a steering wheel. When I stopped being “understanding” … when I stopped giving the endless patience to the people who gave me scraps … everything was revealed. immediately. This is when you see the truth, the “relationship” was never mutual. Stability was not real. Peace was fake. It was not only present because I was carrying it together.

Here is the part that will be almost fun if it is not compassionate: the moment I stop breaking my back to preserve peace, I became the wicked in their story. Suddenly, I am a narcissistic. Liar. The bad person. They rewrite history in a way that makes them comfortable, and stopped trying to defend myself, because if they took again to stop talking about me and looking at the mirror, they may not like what they see.

The paradox is, if I have a dollar for every hour I spent an attempt to understand the people who harm me … dissect their wounds, which excuses their division, and fold myself in forms that make them more comfortable, I will be rich now. I have invested more time to understand their pain more than ever to understand me. However, they continue to take.

And the part that cuts deeper?

It is not strangers who did this. It is the people you liked more than others. Those that I defended in the rooms that they will never know. Those who prayed for them while they were scarce their knives. Those who kept giving way to my life, even when they came to swing.

It is a strange type of sorrow – the perception of the people you had taken by a bullet to them are the same people who were slowly loading the gun. I am still … I cannot bring myself to hate them.

I see the parts that are unprecedented. I know that they behave from their wounds. I know that harm hurts people. But understanding someone’s pain does not mean that I should continue to let him hit me.

Trust, I don’t even think that some of them record my absence as a loss. How can they, when they are very busy talking about me instead of looking at the mirror? My presence was a gift that they never learned how to take care of it, appreciate it or see it really. He just benefited them until he did not, and then became the bad man.

This part is still painful.

So no, I do not wish them harm. I hope they will find peace.

I hope they learn love without wounding.

But my sympathy is no longer a free pass in my life. If my absence seems to be a loss, then it would be because my presence was a gift, they will not have again.

Sometimes the most loving thing that you can do is walk away. Not to punish them, but to save yourself from becoming someone you can no longer recognize.