Soul Exhaustion & Negative Feedback from the World

I have spent most of my life trying to figure out if I am who I am because of my neurodiversity, my trauma, or simply my personality. This kind of navel-gazing doesn’t come from self-loathing — I don’t look in the mirror and dislike who I see — but rather from the constant messages I’ve received from the world about who I’m supposed to be.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been told that I’m “too much.” Too direct. Too blunt. That I say things you’re “not supposed to say.” And for most of my life, I’ve tried — my God, I’ve tried — to turn myself into the person other people wanted me to be.

I’ve tried silence, only to realize that staying quiet when I see something wrong inflicts moral injury on my soul. It’s about as useful as trying not to vomit when you have a stomach bug — it’s going to come out eventually, and fighting it only makes the suffering last longer.

I’ve tried softening my voice, watering down my words to make them more digestible, only to be accused of being “patronizing.” I’ve twisted myself into knots trying to “fix” who I am, to earn the comfort of others at the expense of my own peace.

And here’s the thing — sometimes the negative feedback doesn’t even come from many people. Sometimes, it’s just one voice. But somehow that one voice, that single harsh opinion, can outweigh the supportive ones. It lingers. It echoes. It plants doubt in the quiet spaces of my mind. Other times, those messages come from multiple directions — work, family, community — and together, they form a chorus that violently attacks my sense of self and belonging. They make me question my place in the world and whether I even am who I believe myself to be.

And that — that constant questioning of our worth, our belonging, our identity — is the fuel of Soul Exhaustion.

My latest strategy has been avoidance — steering clear of spaces where I feel unwanted or misunderstood. And honestly? That’s helped. But of course, we can’t always do that. Life doesn’t always give us the luxury of choosing our rooms.

Then recently, while scrolling through TikTok, I heard a song that stopped me in my tracks — Walk the Walk by Breaking Rust (full disclosure, I have since learned this song was produced using AI). It struck something deep within me. I listened to it again and again, and while I can’t claim it as my personal anthem (some of its lyrics are still aspirational), it brought me a rare sense of peace — like I was finally breathing air that belonged to me.

And as I sat there listening, I was embarrassingly reminded of the “Claim Yourself” section in my own Soul Exhaustion & Soul Care workbook. I realized that it’s always easier to stand on the sidelines and see what others should do, but when you’re the one in the game — your game — the answers can get blurry.

So here’s my reminder, to myself and to you:

I didn’t write Soul Exhaustion & Soul Care because I have it all figured out. I wrote it because I’m still figuring it out. I may know the answers in my head, but I need to be reminded of them in my heart.

This is for anyone who needs that same gentle reminder:

Sometimes, we have to stop trying to fit ourselves into everyone else’s expectations and claim who we are. We have to value our own sense of self more than the distorted version others try to paint of us.

It’s okay to choose spaces where you belong — and it’s okay to walk away from the ones where you don’t.

Claiming yourself doesn’t mean ignoring the parts of you that need work. We all have those. It means recognizing the masks you wear and learning to take them off without shame. You can do it slowly, in small steps, but the goal is to find the places where you can be your most authentic self.

Sometimes, claiming yourself also means setting hard boundaries. And that’s okay too.

Because Soul Care isn’t easy. It’s not a bubble bath or a walk in the woods (though those can help). It’s deep work — raw, uncomfortable, and often painful. It’s more like physical therapy than a massage. But just like physical therapy, the more you do it, the stronger you become, and the less it hurts.

So here I am — not someone who’s “healed,” but someone walking the path of healing. Humbly. Honestly. And still learning to claim myself, one day at a time.