Torn Between Fighting Back and Letting Go

I used to fight back when I was younger. I wasn't the kind of girl who quietly sat in a corner when something went wrong. Oh no. My heart and soul would ignite the second I felt disrespected. If something was off, I was already off with it.

My best friend, Joanna, used to call me "the expressive one." Back in college, if there was a riot somewhere on campus, she's assume I was probably in the middle of it, not necessarily throwing punches, but definitely throwing words. Passionate words. Dramatic words. Possibly words that required censoring.

The old me? She was built like, "You want war? I'll bring the soundtrack."

But somewhere along the way, that girl slowly drifted off. No dramatic exit. No resignation letter. She just...faded. One day I realized I had become quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

Now when people disrespect me, drag my name, throw subtle insults, or straight-up call me names, I just stand there like a calm monk who accidentally wandered into chaos.

I. Just. Keep. Quiet.

It's almost funny. The old Junalie would've delivered a TED talk on Why You're Wrong and Possibly Embarrassing. The current version? She blinks. She nods. She goes home and eat snacks.

And here's the strange part: I still get upset. I cry. I feel hurt. But the rage? Gone. The resentment? Missing. Even my inner voice forgot how to curse. I used to have a vocabulary that could set a building on fire. Now, I can’t even summon a mild insult in my thoughts. 

One person asked me, "Why are you letting yourself be treated like this?"

Good question. I'd also like to know.

Recently, I had a bad encounter with someone I can't confidently call a friend. Let's just say "acquaintance with questionable character." I've been patient for so long, but that day I reached my boiling point.

And by boiling point, I mean I cried...silently.

I was upset. Deeply. But here's the twist: I couldn't hate the person.. I tried. I searched for anger like it was misplaced car keys. Nothing. Just...disappointment.

Meanwhile, another voice (probably the ghost of College Junalie) whispered, "Fight back. If you keep allowing this, they'll think it's okay." 

And she's not wrong.

If you constantly absorbed disrespect without reaction, people might assume you're made of emotional shock absorbers. Spoiler alert: I am not.

So now I'm torn.

Do I fight back and resurrect the expressive queen? Or do I let go and preserve my peace like a mature, evolved human being who drinks water and minds her business?

Here's what I'm starting to realize: silence is not always weakness. Sometimes it's control. Sometimes it's growth. And sometimes it's just exhaustion from arguing with people who have the emotional depth of a teaspoon.

The old me fought because she had something to prove. The new me stays quiet because she has nothing to prove.

But quiet doesn't mean passive. Letting go doesn't mean allowing abuse. Peace doesn't mean permitting disrespect. 

Maybe the real glow-up isn't choosing war or silence. Maybe it's knowing when to speak with precision and when to walk away like a classy villain in slow motion.

So no, I don't think something is wrong with me.

I think I'm evolving.

And if I ever do decide to fight back?

Trust me.

I still remember how.