Today, I was triggered.

A colleague pushed my buttons and I lost my peace. I tried to keep my composure—I even said yes to some of her absurd requests, all in the name of harmony.

I noticed myself.
I saw how I tried to let the frustration escape through slow, controlled breaths.
I felt how I held my tongue, not out of fear, but out of a deep desire not to add more chaos into the air.
Again, for the sake of harmony.

But harmony shouldn’t come at the cost of **my inner truth**.

This evening, something in me is softening, expanding.
Yes, she frustrated me to the core.
But I also sensed pain in her—
The kind that leaks out as bossiness, or control, or constant anger.
Maybe she’s been told what to do her whole life. Maybe the weight she carries is too heavy for one pair of shoulders.

Still, I must remember:

**Everyone is carrying something,**
—but that doesn’t mean I must carry *them*.

What she triggered in me was deeper than annoyance.
She touched that tender, unmet need inside me:
To be respected.
To be heard.
To be valued.

And in this office, in this environment that often forgets to see the human behind the role,
that need is often left hungry.

I want to be seen—not just as someone who gets things done,
but as someone whose presence *matters*.
Whose “no” is just as valid as her “yes.”
Whose silence is not weakness, but restraint.
Whose kindness is not an invitation to be stepped on.

So tonight, I pause.
I come back to myself with a question that no one else can answer for me:

**What do I need to give myself, after giving so much today?**

Maybe it’s rest.
Maybe it’s a long exhale without explaining why.

Maybe I’ll play Whitney Houston’s exhale shoop shoop be doo on repeat..
Maybe it’s a small note that says: *You did well, even if no one said so.*

Whatever it is, I know this:
Peace isn’t something others give me.
It’s something I choose again and again—especially when it’s hard.

And I choose it now.

Karin Sabrina