Why do I let mean people in my life?

On taking responsibility for conflict...or not.

My group chats remain top tier.

“I don’t understand! I wish people weren’t so mean!”

Ah yes, the sweet naiveté of children, you’re thinking. Oh no, my friend. That’s a direct quote from me, at 31 years old, blubbering into my blankets while my partner rubs my back. I’ve just gotten an email from someone I used to work with and should’ve blocked a long time ago, detailing how much they don’t like me, and how their dislike of me was going to fuel their art, and they just “wanted [me] to know. ~peace.”

Side bar: You know you’re about to have the worst professional experience of your life when you find yourself in communication with someone who ends their emails with things like “power, light, and respect.” They’re hiding something behind that sign-off, and it’s almost always an ego too big for the city we live in. Somehow it also has the same energy as “grand rising, negress” which…it’s gonna be a pass for me, dawg.

It was an unnecessary, unkind, petty, vindictive, mean email. I can be all of those things at times. I’m human. But I’m never all of those things, at once, on purpose. And I promise you, whatever I “did” to this person (I’m not going to validate their delusions by saying I did anything to them) did not warrant this batshit email almost a year after the incident in question. We were both adults, yet I found myself reverting to the 9-year-old version of myself, shaking in my room after another day of being bullied at my new school following my family’s move to the suburbs. I was confused, my feelings were hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth.

As I wiped my tears and began to settle into my post-cry depression, I said, “I mean, I know at some point you have to look at yourself as the common denominator. Why do I keep attracting mean people? It’s like I completely ignore my gut feelings every time!” I looked at my partner for validation that, yes, I was the problem and every instance of someone being unkind to me was, indeed, my fault.

They scoffed. “You’re also surrounded by some of the kindest, sweetest people who treat you and other people well.” I looked away, suddenly realizing I’d shame-walked myself into a trap of my own design. “If it’s your fault when you let someone around you who ends up treating you poorly, then it’s also your fault that you have people around you who are genuinely good.” I could feel the smile in their voice so I looked over at them with narrowed eyes. Sure enough, they were grinning at me. “So, what is it? Are you a hypocrite, or are you responsible for the good people around you too?” So smug.

My partner might be Tanjiro from the manga Demon Slayer.

I groaned. I wanted to fight. But they were smiling at me and I loved them and I loved all the incredibly beautiful people in my life, so I grumbled, “You’re right.” A pause. “But it feels like the good people in my life are just random chance. Like, I didn’t listen to a gut feeling telling me they were safe, they just happened to be.”

My partner nodded. “And it could be a random chance when people around you treat you poorly, too.”

I scrunched up my face in exaggerated annoyance. “No…that’s my fault.”

They threw their arms around me and pulled me closer to them. “Yes, fine, it’s always your fault when something bad happens!” I giggled and nodded my head against their arms.

“Yeah.

…But what do I do if it’s not?”

It’s easy to shy away from interrogating the myriad of ways we show up in conflict. Whether it’s our actions leading up to it, how we react in the moment, and how we handle ourselves afterward. I’m definitely not an expert, nor do I always do it well; while I’m spiritually from Chicago like my matriarch, I’m culturally from Minnesota, which means I often find myself mirroring the avoidance of my Midwest peers when it comes to interpersonal conflict. I’ll bend backward to avoid decisions, conversations, or doling out consequences that might hurt someone’s feelings. It doesn’t help that my particular neurodivergent brain-soup hates the very idea of being rejected, even by people I don’t like in the slightest.

Even with that truth, I’ve watched myself get so much better at handling conflict in the past few years. Saturn Return and all that, maybe. I’m starting to understand the feeling in my gut telling me something is off here, but it took years of me not interpreting that feeling correctly and allowing people into my life who would later become issues. Then, rather than course-correct in whatever ways necessary once the issues became apparent, I would cling to my mistake in the hopes I wouldn’t need to do the thing I almost certainly need to do: initiate hard conversations and potentially find myself in conflict.

Oofda.

Somewhat recently, one of my therapists (shout out Huda, girl, I miss you) told me that I take too much responsibility for the things that happen in my life. Something about being parentified as a child, and evangelical Christianity teaching that you are solely responsible for the outcomes of your life, and being the eldest daughter, and so on, so forth. Are there times when I ignore my gut feelings, trust too easily, or hurt someone? Yes, absolutely. And there are times when people take advantage of my earnest nature, misguide me on their intentions, or meet me with their worst selves. I can be both responsible, and at the mercy of the chaos of other people’s intentions. But the only way to know, and trust, the difference is to talk to the people in my life who know me best (including therapists) about how I showed up.

The morning after receiving the Meanest Email, I blocked the sender’s address. They aren’t a friend, nor a friend of a friend, nor someone I’m in community with. They’re someone who interacted with me briefly in a professional context, then used their mental health as a weapon against my judgment of their behavior in these interactions. I get these types sometimes, as a person who stepped in and out of spotlight and scrutiny over the last 4 years while running a business. They meet me with expectations of who I’ll be, or how they think we should get along, and then they discover that I’m an actual person who might not want to be who they imagined. Some people handle it with grace, others don’t.

Is Mrs. Howard going to be my 2025 energy?

I truly think it’s one of my interpersonal powers, being willing to (some might say, eagerly) interrogate the idea that I’m the problem. But I’m gonna actually be a goddamn problem once I’m able to discern, quickly and without fear, when it’s not me. Then it’s over for you dusty, mean ass fools!

Until then, I’m genuinely doing my best to treat folks how I’d like to be treated. Being mean for the sake of ego? Couldn’t be me! Y’all stay safe out there!

With heart,

Dionne

Tidbits and treats.

This week’s tidbit is that I really enjoy making hyper-specific playlists, including this one I listen to whenever someone pisses me off, instead of emailing them my inappropriate inner thoughts (or writing about it on tumblr). It’s called “I Really Don’t Like You” and features hater bangers like “Poison Poison” by Renee Rapp and “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar. I pretend each song is about someone who’s wronged me and dance and scream until I feel better. Enjoy!

Currently reading: “I Want to Die But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki” by Baek Se-Hee, which largely inspired me to write this week’s essay. It’s a collection of transcriptions (edited only for clarity) from Baek’s psychiatry sessions, which…you couldn’t pay me to do. But the vulnerability makes for an interesting rad, and encourages a very “we listen and we don’t judge” vibe from the reader, even as the author often judges herself.

As usual, find me on Bluesky / Instagram for my life updates (I’m leaving for a solo trip to Japan next week!!) and cultural commentary, and Fable / Storygraph for my reading lists!