It happened at a café one morning.
I was a little bit jetlagged, standing in line for coffee, when someone walked right in front of me and ordered first. For a second, I froze. That little spark of irritation came up, the kind that whispers, Whattt, Seriously? In my head, I started building the usual story; maybe they were rude, maybe they thought I wouldn’t say anything, or maybe they saw me and didn’t care.
But before it got any louder, I stopped. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe they were late, tired, or just distracted. So I took a breath and let it go. A few minutes later, when my coffee arrived, I realized something small but true: The moment was already over. The only one keeping it alive was ME.
That got me thinking about how often we do this. How easily we take things personally that probably aren’t personal at all. It’s almost automatic. Someone sighs when we’re talking, and we wonder if we’ve said something wrong. A friend cancels plans, and we quietly assume it’s because they don’t value us enough. Someone forgets to text back, and we start rewriting the entire friendship in our heads. Sounds familiar? Sure.
We read tone in short messages. We measure love in response times. We let small silences feel like rejection.
But most of the time, it’s not about us at all. It’s about them, their long day, their crowded mind, their worries that have nothing to do with us. The truth is, people are living entire stories we don’t know. So when someone is rude or impatient, it’s usually not about us. They’re acting from their own stress, frustration, or blind spots. But what we do next is, we tend to see their moods as a reflection of ourselves, when really, they are just being human: tired, stressed, or hurried. As Marcus Aurelius noted, people aren’t villains; they’re just humans who might not realize how their actions affect others. Understanding this doesn’t make us naive; it sets us free.
What’s crazy about it, too, is that sometimes it’s not even about them. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves. Our ego hates uncertainty, so it fills in the blanks, and usually with the worst possible interpretation. And when we forget that, we turn neutral moments into emotional battles that only exist in our imagination. Remember what Seneca said: “We suffer more in imagination than in reality!”
And if it’s truly about them being an annoying person, Marcus Aurelius talked about this centuries ago.
He said, “If someone does wrong, it’s because they don’t know what’s right. Forgive them, for they are mistaken.”
It sounds simple, but it’s the kind of simplicity that only comes from deep understanding. Sure, He wasn’t saying we should excuse bad behavior or let people walk all over us. So, then what? Just respond to it without losing ourselves. When someone crosses a line, we can still set boundaries, just calmly. We can speak up, but without hostility.
We can walk away, but without bitterness. Because maturity isn’t silence; it’s choosing the right kind of response.
Marcus didn’t avoid confrontation; he simply refused to make anger his language. He knew that reacting out of emotion often gives the other person more power, not less. So he learned to protect both his peace and his principles.
And that’s my friends, what we can do too.
Stay kind and steady, but stay clear about what’s okay and what isn’t. We don’t take the behavior personally, but we don’t pretend it’s fine either. We won’t let someone else’s chaos change who we are. It reminds us that people act from their own level of awareness, seeing life through their experiences, fears, habits, and stories.
Because the moment we stop taking it personally, we take back control over our emotions. We recognize their reactions as a reflection of their world, not ours. This will bring compassion, allowing us to remain kind without being disturbed.
Massimo Pigliucci puts it another way: “Separate what belongs to you from what doesn’t.” It’s one of those Stoic principles that sounds easy but changes everything once we practice it.
What belongs to us? Our choices, our actions, our words, the way we show up. That’s our territory. The part we can shape, improve, and take responsibility for. What doesn’t belong to us? Other people’s opinions, moods, or reactions. We can influence them, but we can’t own them.
The truth is, not taking things personally doesn’t make us cold. It makes us clear. It lets us see people for who they are, not for what our ego fears they might think. It’s what Massimo calls the elegance of self-control, and it’s oddly contagious. People sense that we’re grounded, not defensive, not volatile, not desperate for approval.
You know who carried that energy? Margaret Thatcher. She was firm without being frantic, decisive without being loud. She once said, “Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.” I’ve always admired that. It captures emotional steadiness, a strength that doesn’t need to shout. She understood what calm confidence is: steady, focused, and never desperate for approval.
That’s what it feels like when we stop taking things personally. We stop reacting to every tone or mood. We stop explaining ourselves to people who aren’t really listening. We do our part, stay kind, and move on. And funny enough, the less we try to prove ourselves, the stronger we come across. Calm has its own kind of charisma.
These days, when someone reacts harshly or misunderstands me, I try to think of that morning at the café. Most people are lost in their own world. It’s rarely about us. In this understanding, there’s a small but strong freedom. It’s not loud, but it’s soothing. Not taking things personally means choosing peace instead of drama, and understanding instead of reacting. It’s about keeping our heart open, our ego quiet, and staying calm.
No matter what’s happening around us.
Love,
Kirana
