This Isn’t New: On Memory, Mental Health, and the Boundaries That Save Us

There’s something sacred about remembering.

Not just the good, but the truth. The patterns. The historical fingerprints that show up in our souls. Lately, I’ve found myself reading not to escape, but to ground myself. Because what’s happening in this country, in our communities, in our workplaces, isn’t new.

We’ve seen this before. And for those of us who live in bodies that are racialized, gendered, politicized, and policed, we remember even when the world tries to convince us to forget.

I’ve been reading about the cycles and about how systems of harm evolve, rebrand, and repeat. And just as I’m soaking in that clarity, I get the messages that cause me to sigh deeply: "Hey, would love to reconnect.” "I always admired your leadership.”“ We should partner on something.”

And I pause.

Because some of those messages are coming from the same people who once:

• Questioned my credentials

• Undermined my leadership

• Weaponized their power because they hated my confidence

• Tried to tarnish my reputation because I wouldn't bow

• Dehumanized me

  
  

And now, when the tide has 'seemingly' shifted, when mental health is under attack and authenticity is currency, they want access. Not accountability. Access.

I'm sure you've experienced this too.

People see what they assume to be your success on social media, never knowing or caring what's really happening in your life. They don't know if you are sick, unemployed, or struggling but they assume you have something of value they want and try to come back because they want your peace.

Mental health isn’t just about therapy, breathing exercises. or soft playlists. It’s also about boundaries. It’s about telling the truth about who harmed you and choosing not to invite them back into sacred space just because they’ve suddenly found their version of clarity.

Protecting your peace means naming what happened. It means not gaslighting yourself into reconciliation. It means choosing healing over performance, truth over politeness, and discernment over people-pleasing.

So if you’ve ever wondered whether it’s “too harsh” to keep someone at a distance who once tried to dim your light, let me reassure you:

That boundary might be the most loving, liberating thing you do for your mental health.

Some of us are no longer available for forced reconciliation, fake allyship, or polite gaslighting.

We’re booked. Unbothered. And no longer explaining ourselves to people committed to misunderstanding or harming us.

If you felt this, you’re not alone. And if you’re living it, stay grounded, stay discerning, and stay free.

🖤

Dr. C