When “Come From a Place of Love” Feels Like a Joke

Yesterday wasn’t great. I watched the highlight reel of everyone else’s productivity and wondered how they’re doing so much more than I am. I’m not lazy. I’m not disengaged. But I’m tired. Tired of trying so hard and still feeling like I’m standing still.

I’m making the most money I’ve ever made—and I’m still unhappy. Not because I’m ungrateful, but because I don’t see the path forward. No one’s telling me anything. No one’s showing me the map. I feel like I’m falling through the cracks, and the silence is starting to sound like permission to disappear.

I don’t want to kiss ass. I don’t want to play the game. But it feels like that’s the only way to get ahead. And I’m not built for that. I get frustrated quickly—especially when people lie, twist the truth, or manipulate the narrative to serve themselves. I can’t always spot it in real time, and that makes me want to shut down. To stop talking. To stop trusting.

I’m full of frustration. And then someone says, “Come from a place of love.”
Love? For what? For a system that rewards performance over integrity? For the spaces that only notice you when you’re loud, glittering, or conveniently symbolic.

I want to come from a place of love. I do. But right now, I’m coming from a place of exhaustion. Of disillusionment. Of watching people get ahead by playing a game I never agreed to join.

So maybe love, for now, looks like boundaries. Like silence. Like refusing to pretend I’m okay with being overlooked.

And maybe that’s enough.