THERE’S a quiet kind of freedom that comes from realising this truth: Most of the time, it’s not about you.
That snappy comment from a colleague? It’s probably not personal. The cold shoulder from a friend? It could be their own unresolved frustration. The driver who cuts you off, the student who seems disengaged, the person who doesn’t return your message?
Chances are, they’re wrestling with something you can’t see. And yet, we absorb it. Internalise it. Personalise it.
We replay the moment again and again in our heads: Did I do something wrong? Did I offend them? Are they upset with me? That mental loop—it’s exhausting, isn’t it?
But here’s the thing: people are complex. Messy. Emotionally layered. And most of the time, their reactions say more about what’s going on inside them than anything you did or said.
A blue-ticked WhatsApp message doesn’t always mean you’re being ignored. A sharp e-mail response doesn’t automatically signal disrespect. Sometimes it’s just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a life that’s fraying at the edges.
Mitch Albom wrote in Tuesdays with Morrie, “Don’t let someone else’s behaviour destroy your inner peace.” Simple, yes; but not always easy. And I had to learn this lesson the long way around.
Years ago, a senior colleague I respected suddenly became distant. Short in meetings. Cool in conversation. It ate at me. I kept replaying our last few interactions, trying to pinpoint what I had said wrong. I even considered apologising for something I wasn’t sure I had done.
But then one evening, long after office hours, I saw him still in his room, head in his hands, visibly exhausted. A few days later, I learned he was dealing with a difficult family situation that had been weighing heavily on him for months.
It was never about me.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve carried someone else’s storm like it was my fault for causing the rain. We all do it, especially when we’re wired to care. But over time, I’ve come to appreciate the emotional clarity that comes from this one practice: pause before taking it personally.
Sometimes people are rude because they’re tired. Sometimes they’re distant because they’re anxious. Sometimes they’re cold because they don’t know how to say, “I’m not okay.” And sometimes—they’re just human.
The Stoics knew this well. Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.”
And perhaps that’s where real strength lies—not in retaliating, not in overthinking, but in choosing what we allow to take root inside us.
You see, when you take everything personally, you become a sponge for other people’s emotional clutter. You carry burdens that were never yours to begin with. You give away your peace in exchange for their problems. But there’s another way.
I call it the Templar shrug—inspired by Richard Templar, the author of 2015 bestseller The Rules of Life. Throughout his book, Templar comes across as someone who has mastered the art of emotional boundaries.
Not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows better than to waste energy on things that don’t serve him.
He writes with the kind of clarity that suggests a quiet confidence: don’t take things personally, don’t get dragged into unnecessary drama, and most of all, don’t give people the power to ruin your day.
Templar doesn’t say it in so many words, but what he’s really advocating for is freedom—the freedom to move through life without collecting other people’s emotional baggage. The freedom to shrug off what isn’t yours and walk on, lighter.
That, to me, is a form of wisdom.
So the next time someone seems off, consider this: What if it has nothing to do with you? What if they’re carrying something invisible—and the best thing you can do is not add your own assumptions to the weight?
And if you’re the one having a bad day, remember: others aren’t mind readers either. If you need space, take it. If you need support, ask.
But don’t let your inner turmoil spill out as stray sharpness—someone else might carry that the whole day, thinking it was their fault. We’re all navigating our own quiet battles. Some visible, many not. So be kind.
And when someone’s edge meets your calm, don’t immediately absorb it; shrug and move on. Because most of the time it’s not about you. ‒ June
Ir Dr Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya.
The views expressed are solely of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Focus Malaysia.
Main image: Pexels/Seng Lam Ho
