Wendy's Diary

I had always been a quiet girl. Or maybe the better word was timid. Not soft. Not gentle. Not reserved by choice. Timid. I was afraid to be fully myself—especially around people. Afraid to express how I truly felt. Afraid to speak up when I was offended. Afraid to say, “That hurt me.” Afraid to say, “I disagree.” Instead, I would retreat inward. When something upset me, I wouldn’t confront it. I would analyze it — overanalyze it — in my head. I would replay conversations. Reconstruct tone. Debate both sides. Become the prosecutor, the defender, and the judge. And after all that silent courtroom drama, I would do either of the following: Wear a smile. Or wear a frown. Depending on the verdict I had reached in my mind. But here’s the truth: Nothing was ever actually resolved. The other person never knew. The issue was never addressed. The boundary was never drawn. And slowly, something dangerous began to happen. I began to shrink. Because every time you silence yourself, you teach ...

It was supposed to be temporary. That’s how it always starts, right? “Just for now.” “Until something better comes.” “Let me manage this for the time being.” I told myself that when I accepted the job. It wasn’t my dream. It wasn’t even on my vision board. I had visited a friend there a few times and silently decided, “Nice… but not for me.” But life doesn’t always consult your preferences. So I stepped in. Calm. Rational. Temporary. One year passed. Then another. And before I could fully process it, eight years had gone by. Somewhere between endurance and survival, “just for now” quietly became my normal. Until I became restless. And that restlessness? It wasn’t noise. It was a signal. The Moment I Knew I Was Done After a particularly painful experience, I submitted my resignation in March. Senior management intervened. Questions were asked. Adjustments were made. Quick fixes were implemented. But here’s what I learned: you can repair a situation without repairing a ...