Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the impulse to explain ourselves. With friends, with family, in awkward situations or misaligned connections—where’s the line between communicating to be heard vs. trying to control or fix? And when are “hard conversations” really necessary, versus just letting it go?
I think we’re all a bit wound up around boundaries. Sometimes we can relax the need to prove ourselves—because silence often speaks louder than any conversation could.
Which brings me to my latest spiritual practice: blocking.
I don’t do it often. But when I do, it’s for a reason. Sometimes it’s an old entanglement that’s long past its expiration date. Other times, it’s simply that someone’s presence—online or otherwise—feels like a subtle drain.
It’s taken me years to identify the people who quietly pull at my energy. They’re not always overtly toxic. But something in me goes ehhh. I don’t feel like myself around them. I catch myself performing, shrinking, shape-shifting to keep the peace.
I’ve called these people friends. Coaches. Clients. And yet, deep down, I knew:
This isn’t me.
I don’t like who I become around them.
And I’m done playing someone else’s game.
So when the block happens, it’s not out of spite. It’s not drama. It’s just clarity.
No conversation needed.
No long explanation.
I don’t intend to maintain a relationship.
And I no longer feel the need to explain myself.
Blocking, for me, is a closing ritual.
A quiet reclaiming.
And I’m into it.
