Protect Your Energy, Not Their Feelings

I’ve worked with a few difficult people.

You probably have too.

The ones who interrupt. Undermine.

Micromanage with a smile.

Make backhanded a full-time job.

Or ask “Is everything okay?” in a tone that implies it isn’t—and that you’re the problem.

But here’s what I’ve learned: Not every difficult person is out to destroy you. Some are just drowning in their own chaos. Some mistake control for competence. Some think power lives in volume. And some—yeah, some are exactly what they seem.

So you get smart. You adjust. You code-switch. You document. You choose silence as strategy. You stop trying to be liked and start building boundaries like walls—with doors you lock from your side.Because working with difficult people is not a test of how calm you can stay while being disrespected. It’s a test of how committed you are to your own peace.

And here’s what therapy taught me when I finally admitted I was drowning:

You can’t keep managing everyone else’s dysfunction and expect to thrive.

I’ve been split between a job that demands too much, a boss who nitpicks everything, and a family that still doesn’t see emotional labor as labor. Boomers who never went to therapy are now dealing with medical issues, money problems, and an identify crisis all at the same time—pulling at me to fix what they ignored for years, possibly decades.

Meanwhile, my own goals?

My own life?

Stuck.

Because I’ve been busy patching leaks in everyone else’s boat. And I wonder why I’m tired. Why I’m resentful. Why my life isn’t where I want it to be. It’s because I’ve been pouring from a cup I haven’t filled. And somewhere along the line, I started treating burnout like a personality trait instead of a red flag. So no, I’m not here to keep smoothing things over. I’m here to shift my energy, not cushion their feelings. I don’t always get it right. I still replay conversations. I still feel guilty sometimes for saying no. But I’m learning that boundaries are not betrayal. They’re clarity.

Here’s what I do now:

• I pause before reacting. Silence can be power.

• I document facts, not vibes. Vibes don’t hold up in HR.

• I don’t explain things twice unless I’m being paid extra.

• I give feedback clearly, calmly, and in writing.

• I stop trying to be the fixer. That job was never mine to begin with.

This note is for the part of me that still wants to be the peacemaker. And for the part of me that finally knows:

You don’t have to suffer to stay “professional.”

You may have to disappear to keep the peace.

And you don’t owe anyone your emotional bandwidth just because they refuse to manage their own.

The shift starts here.

With one “no.”

One pause.

One boundary at a time.