I Wasn’t Wrong for Feeling That

Sometimes I speak the truth and feel the heat afterward.

Not because I was wrong — but because the truth makes people uncomfortable.

Because silence is easier to digest than integrity.

I recently posted something that had been weighing heavy on my heart.

Something I saw at work — a situation where someone in real distress was brushed off.

I didn’t name names. I didn’t point fingers.

I just told the truth about what I saw and how it made me feel.

And honestly? I felt sick keeping it to myself.

Because I’ve seen it too many times:

People protecting power structures more than people.

People normalizing behavior that would break your heart if you saw it clearly.

People calling you dramatic or unstable for naming the thing they’re pretending not to see.

The truth is, I work in a system that’s supposed to serve people in deep mental health crises.

But sometimes, that system is run more like a house with ranks than a place of healing.

I was told once that I was “a guest” in someone else’s unit.

But I’m not a guest.

I work here too.

And I see what’s happening — both the good and the quietly dangerous.

There are good people.

There are also people who take advantage of the fact that no one is watching — or worse, that everyone is watching but nobody will say anything.

So I did what I could:

I said something.

I let the truth exist, even if it ruffled feathers.

And I want to say this to anyone who’s ever second-guessed their gut after speaking up:

You weren’t wrong for feeling that.

Your integrity isn’t a weakness.

Your disappointment is a sign that your soul still expects better from the world.

That’s not naivety — it’s hope. And that hope is sacred.