Not Everyone Deserves Access to the Healed Version of Me

There was a version of me that gave everything away.

Time. Energy. Forgiveness. Presence.

I stayed too long in places that depleted me, tolerated behavior that drained me, and gave the softest parts of myself to people who barely noticed.

That version of me was hurting, but didn’t want to lose people.

So I overcompensated. I performed resilience. I wore my pain quietly while keeping everyone else comfortable.

And many people got used to that me.

So when I began to heal, to reclaim myself, to move slower, softer, wiser—some of them lingered... expecting full access.

But here’s the truth:

Not everyone deserves access to the healed version of me.

🔹 1. The broken me never had boundaries

Back then, I didn’t have the courage or clarity to say no.

Everyone got front-row seats to my chaos—whether they earned that closeness or not.

They saw me at my lowest. And some took advantage of that low.

Some called it love. But it was comfort built on imbalance.

I now see that what I called “loyalty” back then was often just fear.

Fear of being left. Fear of being too much. Fear of being alone.

🔹 2. Healing made me quiet — and more selective

Healing didn’t make me loud.

It didn’t turn me into someone who wanted revenge or applause.

It made me still.

It made me cautious with my time, precise with my language, intentional with my presence.

I no longer perform vulnerability for people who haven’t earned my trust.

I no longer mistake proximity for safety.

Some thought I was becoming distant.

But the truth is — I was becoming whole.

🔹 3. Some people prefer the broken version of you

This was the part that hurt the most.

I realized that some people only knew how to connect with the version of me who was constantly apologizing, proving, pleasing.

The healed version?

The one who paused before responding, who chose peace over performance, who required effort and depth?

That version wasn’t easy.

She wasn’t as entertaining.

She didn’t bend the same way.

So they called her “complicated.”

But really — she just didn’t fit their comfort anymore.

🔹 4. Just because they were there during the pain doesn’t mean they belong in the peace

Being present during someone’s breakdown doesn’t automatically earn you a place in their breakthrough.

I used to feel guilty for shutting people out after I got better.

I felt like I owed them continued access, just because they “stuck by me.”

But survival-mode relationships often have warped foundations.

And the healed version of me?

She builds different.

🔹 5. Peace comes with discretion

These days, I still give love.

Still open up.

Still show up where it matters.

But I don’t overexpose.

I don’t overextend.

Not everyone gets the full backstage pass to who I am becoming.

Growth made me gentler — but also wiser.

I can forgive and still move on.

I can love from afar and still let go.

I am no longer ashamed of the boundaries my evolution requires.

🎯 Final Thoughts

There are people who spent years in the front row of your pain.

They clapped when you survived but turned quiet when you started thriving.

And now that you’ve pieced yourself back together — they expect the same access they had to your fragments.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

You can thank them for being there.

You can love who you were when they knew you.

But you don’t have to let them in now.

Some people were meant to teach you in the fire.

Not walk with you through the calm.

And that’s okay.