Let Them Wonder About You

There is a quiet kind of power in not having to explain yourself.

Not everything that happens in your life demands a social media post to justify it. You aren’t indebted to anyone. Sometimes, the most magnetic thing you can do is to leave room for some silence. Hold yourself back, and let them wonder.

Let them wonder why you controlled the urge to text back immediately.

Let them wonder why your selfies hit different now.

Let them wonder why your laugh feels lighter, like you stopped carrying some heavy burden.

Let them wonder why you’re glowing.

Reclaim the driver’s seat in your own journey.

My mom explains everything. She will describe why she bought a certain brand of paper towels like she is trying to sway an apprehensive jury. She will apologize for trying new recipes, even if everyone adores it. I love her more than words can convey, but watching her justify every small choice like someone is going to question her hurts me. I’ve inherited this trait, too.

It makes me realize how women are taught that being misunderstood is dangerous. That silence equals guilt. That mystery is selfish.

We are trained to narrate everything. To perform. To clear up anything that makes us seem complicated. But some things are just for you. Some chapters are meant to be lived, not illustrated through a live-stream.

Mystery isn’t coyness. It’s about clarity. It’s about what deserves to be shared, and what doesn’t. It is knowing that your evolution is sacred, and doesn’t require an audience.

In college, I was bullied out of a sorority that I loved by someone I thought was a friend. Not in that obvious way with locker shoves and “you can’t sit with us.” It started quietly with eye rolls when I spoke, with group meetings that I wasn’t part of, and jokes about my eating disorder. When I made the decision to leave, I started narrating myself constantly. Not in a “woe is me” sense, but I thought if I explained myself enough, I could change the way they saw me. But I couldn’t.

It took me a while to realize: over-explaining is like reopening a wound. You can’t keep hurting yourself hoping someone finally sees how deep the wound goes.

Sometimes you outgrow the need to prove you’re okay. You just are. And that implicit, but wholehearted confidence? It invites people to lean in. Dig deeper. Re-read your captions. Explore signs of what has changed.

Let them.

Because while they are working at trying to decode your silence, you are busy becoming someone you didn’t expect. 

Let them wonder.

You’re not meant to be understood by everyone.