By Mich3ll3 Evans | Wings of Courage

There are moments when I write to encourage others, but secretly, I’m writing to keep my own heart from unraveling. I remind others to find peace, but I’m still searching for mine. I try to be a light in the dark, even when the glow flickers in my own hands.

Lately, I’ve been learning what it means to outgrow conversations that hurt, relationships that drain, and silence that silences me.

I used to think boundaries were about honoring someone else’s space. And they are. But I’ve come to learn that real peace begins when I stop betraying myself to maintain someone else’s comfort.

I’ve smiled through conversations that pierced me quietly—listening to names that reminded me I was not chosen, not prioritized, not welcomed into the parts of someone’s life I once thought I belonged. I’ve nodded politely while people praised the very things that keep me up at night.

But what do you do when the people who speak to you are the same ones who stir the ache inside you? What do you do when your voice, your truth, your worth feels invisible in a room full of noise?

You choose yourself.

You speak less.
You protect your spirit.
You stop explaining your sensitivity and start honoring it.

I don’t want to hear about people who were chosen over me, not because I hate them, but because I love myself enough to know that my healing does not need to be interrupted by someone else’s narrative.

This isn’t bitterness—it’s emotional hygiene.

And I want you to know that if you’re the one who’s always giving grace, always making room for others, always trying to hold your pain with dignity—I see you. I am you.

Let’s stop silencing our hurt just to keep the peace.
Let’s stop calling dysfunction “friendship” and manipulation “concern.”
Let’s reclaim our energy.

Let’s redefine peace—not as silence, but as truth spoken without apology.

Because even the strong get tired of being silent.

And today, I choose peace that includes me.