Sella Yaso
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Inner GravityChapter 13 of 313 min

Other People (Staying Yourself in a Crowd)

Most of the pulls on your trolley are other people. Friends, parents, teachers, the thousand strangers behind the algorithm. You can't make them calm down. You can stop absorbing them.

Don't catch other people's panic. In the common room two weeks before exams, someone will be loudly melting down about grade boundaries. You will feel the urge to join in — panic is contagious. Practise being the calmest person in the room. Listen. Nod. Go back to your own page. You're not being cold; you're just refusing to carry a weight that isn't yours.

Set a boundary without a speech. You don't need to announce that you're "protecting your energy". You just need to leave the chat, say "I'm revising till eight, I'll reply after", or go for the walk. Boundaries are things you do, not things you declare.

Parents and the expectation you're carrying for them. A lot of the pressure you feel isn't yours. It's a parent's anxiety, a teacher's target, a family story about what success looks like. Try this: write down one expectation you're carrying right now that belongs to someone else. Then write, in your own handwriting, that you're allowed to put it down. You can still love them. You can still work hard. You just don't have to carry their fear as well as your own.

And you can say something, which is better than silently resenting it. Not a speech — two sentences, said once, when nobody is already cross:

"I've got two blocks planned tonight and I've worked out the week. Can you ask me on Sunday instead of every day?"

That gives them the one thing they're actually after, which is evidence that someone is in charge of this. Most of the asking isn't nagging. It's a parent who can't see inside your head and is guessing at the worst. Show them the plan and the asking usually drops off on its own.

Take up space. Sit tall. Breathe deeply. Let yourself be steady in a crowded room without apologising for existing. Heavy things don't shrink.

A boundary, without the speech

It's two weeks before the exams and the common room has someone in it who is melting down about grade boundaries, loudly, for the fourth lunchtime running. You can feel it climbing into you.

The speech you don't give: "I'm finding this environment really negative and I need to protect my energy at the moment." True, maybe. Also guaranteed to start a bigger conversation than the one you're trying to leave, and you'll be the one who thinks they're better than everyone.

What you do instead: you listen properly for a minute, because they're frightened and that's real. "That sounds rubbish." Then: "I'm going to go and do an hour in the library — see you fifth?"

That's it. Two sentences. No announcement, no diagnosis of anyone, nothing to argue with. You've been kind and you've left.

Boundaries are things you do. The moment one becomes a speech, it's stopped being a boundary and started being an argument you have to win.

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