Tomorrow is my 35th birthday, and I think I’m in my Taking Up Space Era. (Is that a Taylor Swift reference? I’m really not sure.)

I was lashed out at today, at 7:00 in the frickin’ morning. Felt like I got emotionally rear-ended to start my Tuesday. Someone coming from a place of great pain said some really nasty things to me. Essentially they intimated that, in removing themselves from a circumstance we have in common, they won’t “be there for me to kick them around anymore” and I must be so satisfied by that.

So, aside from the obvious fact that I don’t kick anyone anywhere, um, of course I’m not satisfied — I want this person to be okay, I always wish for everyone to be okay. But from the details of the insults that were hurled at me, I can only glean that I am projecting a confident and sincere version of myself these days, which this person has found to be too much.

People who are too lost in their own pain often have a difficult time coexisting with those who are actively working to overcome their trauma. That’s where I find the nuanced difference between victimhood and survivorhood, though I suppose some might argue that’s just semantics; some people never find a way out of the trenches, and contrary to what was thrown at me today, I truly understand how difficult it is. I wonder if the person who attacked me today sees me fighting so hard to get better and to find a way to thrive, and rather than see that they too can do it, they feel resentful and despairing. It saddens me and I really do hope they get help. I want them to find peace — but if I’ve learned anything at all, it’s that their peace cannot come at my own expense.

I had that argument fifteen hours ago, and I keep thinking about it. The more I think about what was said, the more I feel like I’ve been accused of taking up space. And maybe I am. And I’m way past apologizing for it.

Don’t they realize, though, that here on the path to healing, there’s plenty of room for us all?