let people misunderstand you

choose your peace over their approval; their validation isn't worth the trouble

It feels many types of wrong to learn you are being misrepresented. Misread. Misunderstood. It’s a sort of throbbing internal pain—like watching someone paint your portrait in colors you’ve never worn or describe you in a language you don’t speak. You stand there, invisible and present all at once, as they gesture toward a version of you that never existed. You want to reach out, to interrupt, to correct the record with trembling hands and a desperate heart. You want to shout, “No, that isn’t me! You’ve got it all wrong!”

You want to fix it. To defend yourself. To be seen clearly by the people who twist your words, who filter your choices through the narrow lens of their own assumptions, who simplified your complex story into something unrecognizable.

You want to explain. You want to unravel the tangled threads, to show them the truth behind every misunderstood moment. You want to say:
It wasn’t like that.
You didn’t see what led up to that moment.
You didn’t see how my hands would shake at the thought of it all, the sleepless nights I spent deteriorating, the silent tears that fell in the dark because I couldn’t risk my pain being heard.
You didn’t see the war I was fighting just to breathe, just to keep going.

You want to hand them every piece of context, every missing chapter, every unsent letter, hoping they’ll finally understand.

But here’s the truth:
Sometimes, it costs too much to correct the record. Sometimes, keeping your peace, and choosing yourself, means letting go of being understood.

You are not required to keep setting yourself on fire so someone else can sit comfortably in their version of events. You are not required to burn in the flames just to light the path for people who never intended to walk it with you.

Let them think what they want. Let them say their version.
Let them misunderstand you.

Sometimes, the only witness to your truth is you. Sometimes, your own heart is the only courtroom where your story is heard in full. And in that solitude, you learn to protect yourself. You learn to trust the voice inside that says, “I know what I survived. I know what I meant. I know who I am becoming.”

Let the world fill in the blanks with their own fears and projections. Their version of you is a shadow on the wall—real only to those who never step into your light.

You don’t owe everyone access to your evolution. You don’t have to offer up your soul for public inspection, or beg for understanding from those who have already decided not to see you. Your story is not a democracy. Your healing is not a performance. Your growth is not a group project.

Sometimes, when you let them misunderstand you, you reclaim the energy you once spent on explanations and apologies. You can redirect that energy inward, toward your own healing, your own becoming. You can tend to your growth away from prying eyes.

You don’t have to audition for empathy.
Read that again.

There is a radical kind of freedom in saying, "I know who I am, and that’s enough."

Your story doesn’t need consensus to be true.
Your healing doesn’t need to be witnessed to be real.
Your growth doesn’t need to be explained to be valid.

Let them misunderstand you. You are still becoming.

And one day—when you are far from the rooms that required your silence to feel comfortable, when you are soft and whole and wildly, unapologetically yourself—you will realize their misunderstanding was never your burden to carry.

You will look back and see that every time you chose your peace over their approval, you were building a life that was truly yours. You will see that freedom is not found in being understood by everyone, but in being true to yourself, even when you stand alone.

Because you did not grow to be seen.
You grew to be free.

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P.S.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge that there are moments in life when you do have to stand up for yourself. These situations can look like when letting a misunderstanding linger could cause harm or when your silence might be mistaken for consent. In these scenarios, it’s best to calmly clarify the truth, set boundaries with those who misrepresent you, and/or speak up when your character or integrity are at stake.

But even then, choose your battles wisely. Not every misconception is worth your energy. In most scenarios, protecting your peace will take you much farther than trying to unify every narrative or win everyone’s approval. People will always talk, always interpret, always fill in the blanks with their own stories. Choose your moments to speak up, but let your peace be your guiding light. Your energy is precious—spend it on what truly matters.

xoxo,
Jia | Joy in Abundance

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