Choosing Rooms That Let Me Be
Redefining who I give my time, energy, and presence to.
I couldn’t quite name it at first. But again and again, I found myself walking away from conversations feeling like I had left parts of myself outside the room just to keep things smooth.
Do you feel it too?
You walk out of some dialogue and feel light, expansive, deeply seen.
And others? You leave slightly smaller. More tired than you were before. Slightly unsure of what part of you just got dimmed to make that interaction easier.
It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s subtle. But it builds.
Over the past few months, I’ve been noticing these shifts more clearly.
There are people who make me feel like I have to try hard just to be accepted, like I need to prove myself, hold back parts of who I am, or constantly explain.
And then there are people I can just be myself with. Not because we agree on everything, but because they’re open to understanding, to finding common ground.
This awareness didn’t come from a book or a course. It came from patterns.
From noticing how I feel after certain meetings, calls, and discussions.
From recognizing that emotional exhaustion isn’t just about workload. It’s about the people you carry while trying to stay regulated in their presence.
Like the heartfelt conversation I had with my sister the other day, where I felt safe enough to tear up a little, pause mid-sentence, gather my thoughts, and still be heard.
No awkwardness. No pressure to keep it together. Just space.
That moment stayed with me because of how it felt.
At some point, I realized I don’t want to carry relationships that cost me clarity anymore.
As someone now studying psychology more formally, I’ve been reflecting on a question that’s become central to both my academic and personal journey.
What does alignment look and feel like in relationships, for ME?
So I began writing a quiet manifesto. A way to crystallize the kind of energy I want to build moving forward, both personally and professionally.
It’s kind of a personal filter. And truthfully, not many people fit it.
That’s why my circle is small, but deeply meaningful.
And I’m endlessly grateful for the ones who do fit. ♥️
They make my life better in every way.
My type of people are curious.
Curious about themselves, others, ideas, systems, and contradictions.
They’re not obsessed with being right. They’re committed to seeing more perspectives.
They reflect. They take feedback. They evolve.
They understand that people can see the world differently and still be kind.
They know how to disagree without demeaning.
They don’t try to one-up conversations. They try to empathetically understand.
My type of people think in ideas, not gossip.
I absolutely love people with a builder’s mindset!
They light up at new questions, not other people’s business.
They are constantly learning. Not to impress, but because they genuinely want to grow.
Their curiosity is alive. So is their humility.
My type of people question what they’ve inherited.
Beliefs, traditions, roles, systems.
I find it hard to connect with those who cling to how things are without ever asking ‘why’.
I feel most at home in conversations about where the world is headed, mental health becoming mainstream, gender roles being reexamined, the evolving meaning of feminism, the shift toward decentralization, the rise of minimalism, the influence of soft power, the undercurrents of modern proxy wars, and other forces quietly shaping our future.
These aren’t just passing trends. They reflect deeper questions about how we live, what we value, and how we evolve as a society.
I value people who are open to these shifts. Those who form opinions over these through evidence and reflection.
Even when their views are unpopular, they speak thoughtfully, not loudly. That kind of presence is rare. And I’m drawn to it.
My type of people know when to speak and how much.
They don’t talk just to fill space. They consider their words and their weight.
Even when they disagree, I can see their care.
They are not dismissive or condescending.
They are not intrusive or entitled.
They don’t flatten others to hold their ground.
They ask questions that matter. They listen. They make space.
My type of people do the inner work.
They’re not perfect. But they are honest.
They take responsibility for their emotional patterns.
They don’t offload their unprocessed stories onto everyone else.
They are aware of their blind spots. And when they see them, they do something about it.
My type of people want to create what they wish existed.
They don’t wait for permission.
They don’t build for applause.
They build with intention, with consistency, with substance.
Not just for appearance, or optics, but for meaning.
I’ve also come to understand just as clearly who I no longer align with.
People who see intellectual depth as overthinking.
People who demand respect without offering it.
People who mock emotionality but quietly crave control.
The ones who want to be heard but rarely listen.
Who conform without questioning.
Who speak only to hear themselves.
Who never ask. Never listen. Never leave space for anyone else’s inner world.
The ones who self-proclaim authority.
People who don’t read, don’t think, don’t question, just repeat, judge, gossip, and hand out advice no one asked for, mainly out of habit.
Again, this isn’t about good or bad people.
It’s about the safety of my mental health.
It’s about my clarity.
I’m using these reflections to sharpen how I move forward.
Who I spend time with. What I tolerate. Where I invest my energy.
Because if I want to show up fully at work, in leadership, in relationships,
I need to stop diluting myself to fit into containers that were never designed to hold who I’m becoming.
If you’re also somewhere in this in-between, refining your boundaries, examining the energies you allow in, listening to your inner cues with more seriousness than ever,
I hope this gives you language for what you’ve quietly known all along.
You’re allowed to be selective.
You’re allowed to ask for alignment.
You’re allowed to outgrow what no longer holds you with care.
And you don’t need a crowd to feel full.
Just a few people who make you feel more like you. Not less.
If you have them, you’ll know. And if you do, like I do, please be grateful. They’re rare.