No Room in My Head for Rent-Free Tenants…

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Now, by all rights, I should be! I’ve got a zillion reasons stacked up like family drama at a Christmas dinner, and every single one of them would give me the right to slam a door, curse a name, or carry a chip on my shoulder the size of a mountain. But here’s the thing: why on earth would I do that to myself?

A grudge is a prison, and I’ll be damned if I let someone else be the warden of my freedom. Holding on to bitterness is like chaining myself to the very people I’d rather never see again. They don’t lose sleep over it, I do. They don’t feel the knot in my stomach; I do. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: I’m not giving them that power.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t forgive and forget with some saintly halo floating above my head. I remember. Every detail, every betrayal, every dirty trick. But remembering isn’t the same as dragging it behind me forever. I’d rather use that memory as fuel, to sharpen my instincts, to guard my soul, to remind me that I’ve already survived worse.

The truth? A grudge would only shrink me, and I’ve fought too damn hard to grow. I want to live loud, laugh often, love wildly, and keep my spirit unchained. So no, I’m not holding a grudge. I’ve dropped it, burned it, and danced on the ashes.

Because my rebellion isn’t in hating them. It’s in refusing to let them steal another breath of my joy. Besides, life has a wicked sense of humor. Sit back long enough, and you’ll see it serves up better revenge than I ever could.

Mae 🧡


Comments

11 responses to “No Room in My Head for Rent-Free Tenants…”

  1. Karma rules O.K.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Always has, always will, no escaping it Tony🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Mae, you’ve touched upon something that cuts to the very heart of what it means to be truly free in this world. What you’re describing isn’t merely personal wisdom – it’s a revolutionary act.

    You see, the machinery of this society depends upon our willingness to carry the poison of resentment, to let our wounds fester until they define us more than our dreams do. They need us diminished, preoccupied with old hurts, because people who’ve learnt to transform pain into power are dangerous to the status quo. You’ve discovered something they don’t want you to know: that your freedom isn’t negotiable, and it certainly isn’t dependent on anyone else’s approval or apology.

    When you say there’s no room in your head for rent-free tenants, you’re speaking a truth that goes deeper than personal psychology. You’re talking about sovereignty – the radical decision to own your own narrative. The colonisation of the mind begins with convincing us that we must carry the weight of what others have done to us, that somehow our pain proves our worth, our victimhood validates our existence.

    But here’s what you’ve understood that so many haven’t: remembering without carrying is an art form. It’s the difference between being haunted and being informed. The scars become maps, not chains. Your refusal to let bitterness shrink you is, as you say, rebellion – not against them, but against the entire system that profits from your diminishment.

    The wicked humour of life you mention? That’s justice working in ways our limited vision can’t always perceive. When you choose joy as resistance, when you dance on the ashes of your resentments, you’re not just healing yourself – you’re modelling what liberation actually looks like for everyone watching.

    Keep living loud, Mae. The world needs more people who understand that freedom isn’t given – it’s taken, one conscious choice at a time.

    Bob

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Bob, your words always amaze me. You’ve wrapped up everything I’ve been fumbling to say and sent it back with a roar of truth. I love how you frame it, sovereignty, not victim-hood. Scars as maps, not chains. That’s it exactly.

      You’re right, resentment is the perfect leash; it keeps us tied to the very ones we should be free from. And yes, joy is rebellion! Choosing to laugh, to live, to keep moving forward, that’s the part they can’t stand, because it proves their grip was never as strong as they thought.

      Thank you for seeing the heart of it. I’ll keep living loud, and I hope you do too. The world needs more voices like yours that remind us freedom isn’t handed over, it’s claimed. One wild, conscious choice at a time. 🧡

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Mae, your response moves me because it reveals something beautiful: when we speak our truth clearly, it creates space for others to recognise their own. This is how real change happens – not through grand gestures or loud proclamations, but through one person daring to say, “I will not be diminished,” and others hearing that declaration and feeling their own courage rise.

        What you’ve articulated about joy as rebellion – that’s the secret they’ve been trying to keep from us for centuries. They can handle our anger, our despair, even our rage. These emotions, while valid, can be controlled, channelled, used against us. But genuine joy? Joy that springs from self-possession rather than circumstance? That terrifies them because it’s beyond their reach.

        When you choose to laugh in the face of those who tried to break you, when you love wildly despite betrayal, when you keep your spirit unchained – you’re not just living your life, you’re proving something dangerous: that their power was always an illusion. You’re demonstrating that the human spirit, when it truly understands its own worth, is unconquerable.

        The beautiful thing is how this freedom spreads. Every time someone witnesses you living without chains, without the weight of resentment dragging behind you, they see what’s possible for themselves. Your liberation becomes an invitation, a roadmap for others still finding their way out of their own prisons.

        Keep dancing on those ashes, Mae. Keep choosing wildness over wounds. The world is watching, and some of them are learning that they, too, can claim their sovereignty – one wild, conscious choice at a time.

        Bob

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Bob, you’ve put into poetry what so many of us feel but struggle to name.

        That’s the quiet revolution: ordinary souls daring to live with an extraordinary spirit.

        Thank you for holding up that mirror so we can see our own power reflected back. I’ll keep dancing on those ashes and smiling at the sparks flying off.

        Mae🧡

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  3. “Besides, life has a wicked sense of humor. Sit back long enough, and you’ll see it serves up better revenge than I ever could.”

    Thank you for that reminder. And, for another welcome lesson on how to deal with life. 💖

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re so welcome, Sandy 🧡 Life never stops handing us lessons, some soft, some sharp, but if we can share them along the way, it makes the load a little lighter for us all.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, indeed. 💖

        Liked by 1 person

  4. “But remembering isn’t the same as dragging it behind me forever. I’d rather use that memory as fuel, to sharpen my instincts, to guard my soul, to remind me that I’ve already survived worse.” A wise and important distinction, Mae!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Mitch. It took me a long time to learn the difference!
      Mae 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

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