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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Jan 27

Peace matters more than potential, promises, or the version of someone you keep hoping they’ll become. Choosing peace isn’t giving up on love—it’s refusing to abandon yourself.

No One Is Perfect, But Peace Matters: The Freedom of Letting Go

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from long hours or sleepless nights. It comes from loving someone who slowly shrinks you. From explaining yourself one more time. From hoping this time will be different. From staying long after your body, intuition, and friends have quietly begged you to leave.


Letting go of a bad partner you’ve been attached to for a long time isn’t dramatic or cinematic. It’s not always a single bold decision followed by instant relief. More often, it’s a series of small, trembling realizations that add up to one undeniable truth: this is costing me my life energy.


And yet, even when we know that, we stay.


Why it’s so hard to let go


People don’t stay in harmful relationships because they’re weak. They stay because of hope, history, and attachment. Because at some point, this person mattered. Because there were good days. Because leaving feels like admitting failure, or worse — admitting that love didn’t save you.



There’s also the quiet fear: Who am I without them?When a relationship has lasted a long time, it can fuse with your identity. Your routines, your future plans, even your sense of self become entangled. Letting go doesn’t just mean losing a person — it means dismantling a version of your life you once believed in.


So you negotiate with yourself. You minimize the pain. You remember the highlights. You tell yourself it’s “not that bad.” Until one day, something shifts.


The moment freedom begins


Freedom doesn’t always arrive the day you leave. Sometimes it begins earlier — the first time you tell the truth to yourself. The first time you stop defending their behavior. The first time you imagine a life that feels lighter, quieter, more yours.


When you finally let go, the silence can feel terrifying. No more chaos. No more adrenaline. No more emotional whiplash. At first, it can feel like withdrawal. Your nervous system has been trained to survive unpredictability, so peace feels unfamiliar.


But then something extraordinary happens.


What you gain when you let go


You gain space. Real space — in your mind, your body, your calendar. You start to notice how tense you were, how much emotional labor you were doing, how often you were bracing for the next disappointment.


You gain clarity. Without constantly managing someone else’s moods, needs, or apologies, your own thoughts come into focus. You remember what you like. What you need. What you will no longer tolerate.



You gain self-trust. Each day you don’t go back is a quiet vote for yourself. Each boundary you hold rewires the belief that love must hurt to be real.


And perhaps most unexpectedly, you gain grief — but the honest kind. Not the confusing grief of staying, but the clean grief of release. The grief that moves, that changes shape, that eventually makes room for relief.


The freedom no one talks about


The greatest freedom isn’t dating again or proving you’re “better off.” It’s waking up without dread. It’s not rehearsing conversations in your head. It’s no longer shrinking your needs to keep someone comfortable.


It’s realizing that love does not require self-abandonment.


Many people are shocked by how much energy returns once they let go. Creativity resurfaces. Laughter comes more easily. Rest feels deeper. You begin to meet yourself again — the version of you that existed before everything revolved around managing a relationship that was draining you.


A quiet kind of courage


Letting go of a bad partner you loved for a long time is an act of profound courage. Not because it’s loud or dramatic, but because it’s honest. Because it requires you to sit with loneliness rather than familiar pain. Because it asks you to believe — without guarantees — that peace is better than chaos, even if chaos once felt like love.


And it teaches you something that changes everything:


You can survive endings.


You can rebuild.


You can choose yourself — and still have a soft heart.


So here’s the question worth sitting with, the one that gently refuses to go away:


If staying has cost you your peace for years, what kind of freedom might be waiting for you on the other side of letting go?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉


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  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • Jul 18, 2025

It took me seven months after college graduation to land my first full-time job. I majored in animation—an extremely competitive field. Having a BA or BFA can make it excruciatingly difficult to find work. In my senior year of college, all the animation majors got to show off their senior film at the local movie theater. If it was good enough. The bar seemed very low. But for some reason, I didn’t make the cut. But then, to my knowledge, nobody in my graduating class had a job so quickly. Landing that job, even after seven months, felt like it was finally my time to shine.

Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

It was a really boring job. I worked under contract, cutting up cardboard boxes and assembling mockup versions of toys for eight hours every day. I kept my head down, did what I was told, and displayed a very eager-to-learn version of myself. The job was not fulfilling. But at least I was employed, and at least I could say I had a real full-time job with hopes of finally moving out.


For some reason, they decided not to hire me full-time when the contract ended. They didn’t even tell me. I found out myself when my position was posted on Indeed. All this time, I wasn’t sure which would be better: to continue making money in a job I don’t enjoy during a time when the job market is terrible, or to have an opening and hope I’d have luck finding a job that better fits me. Turns out I didn’t get to choose. I felt a mix of relief, fear, and anger. How could they go behind my back like that? Being a temporary employee doesn’t mean I should be flung aside. Nothing was ever said to me about a lack of performance. When I confronted them, they briefly mentioned my leadership skills could use some work. I was working as an assistant, doing the things they didn’t have time to do themselves. What exactly was I supposed to lead? They had a lot of nerve saying that to me, when they never demonstrated leadership skills to me. A true leader would have led me. I was their golden opportunity to show off their leadership skills. But instead of leading me in whatever I lacked, they cut me off like a wart.


It didn’t quite hit me until I noticed the two men I worked with exit the room with some notebooks. It was clear they were off to interview someone while I was still working there. I called my mom during working hours in tears. It was Tuesday, and I decided to quit at the end of the week, two weeks before my contract would end. I would rather have those two weeks to look for work than to stay at a job where I didn’t like how I was treated. They would whisper in front of me, excluding me from necessary company conversations, and not even telling me that they did not want to continue with my application, or why. I still don’t know why. But I’ve decided that I don’t care. The reason probably has more to do with them than it does with me.


Sitting in the Discomfort


The devastation sat with me for a long time. I found out they were not going to extend my contract Memorial Day Weekend in 2024, while I was enjoying a weekend away in New York. I confronted them on the Tuesday we were back. When I heard their answer, I couldn’t even tell my parents for a few days. I stayed working for several more weeks, not exactly sure how to feel. It was bittersweet, and I was okay with that. I started looking and interviewing at a few places, nothing full-time, but just a buffer job that would keep me afloat until I could find something a bit more related to my field. Except it was tough to interview because I was still working under contract, which meant I couldn’t take a few hours off work to meet any potential employers. I did not see how truly stuck I was, blind to the sticky peanut butter surrounding me, originating from this job. I trudged forward, forcing myself to walk through the knee—deep, thick, invisible, peanut butter. I told myself it would be over soon, so I continued to allow myself to get smothered in more peanut butter.


The phone call I had with my mom almost one month later helped me realize how bad the situation was for me. I was trapped in a place that I couldn’t interview elsewhere, in a place where I had been shafted. I could finally see the peanut butter everywhere. It was probably up to my waist at that point. I had to do something about it, and I had to start taking care of myself. It was not an easy decision to quit early, but my mental health had to come first. The peanut butter had to go. I came back the next day with a resignation notice. All that was asked was if I had another opportunity lined up for me. I was honest. I said no. That was that. Had they asked for honest feedback, I would have given it to them. But they didn’t, and that’s on them for not wanting to improve.


In the few weeks that followed, I felt a little bit better that I was no longer working at that place. The peanut butter was swallowed with them. But as time continued to pass with no offers, I felt panic begin to set in. I was too far into the working world to go back to retail, but I was not yet experienced enough to do almost anything else. The relief was short-lived, and I was back to feeling like I was not good enough. The job was not just a way for me to make money. It felt like my chance to show that I could be good enough. But I lost it, just as I had not been accepted to show my senior film. I was moving backwards in life. What was I doing wrong?


To fill my time, I continued to hustle my art. I animate for myself a little bit, I operate a very small Etsy shop, and I write for Moody Melon. At a very low point in this situation, I honestly asked a very close and important person in my life what I do well that nobody else does. The answer really helped me. It may have been just to make me feel better, but I took it very seriously. I am very good at making animal ceramic mugs. All I needed to hear was one thing that I knew I could do.


Reframing the Loss


This was not something I could look at in a new way on my own. I spoke to my therapist about it a lot. While I was in work, she mentioned that I didn't seem happy there. I knew that I wasn’t exactly joyous, but the mindset of having a job during these hard times was enough to convince myself it wasn’t so bad.


Once I was out of work, she pointed out that I had been saying how much I wanted to have more time to focus on my art. I had wanted to expand my portfolio, make more things to sell at art markets, and also use the extra time to find my true potential. Now is the time when I can afford to do all that. I haven’t moved out yet, so I have no rent to pay. I can quite literally afford to have time now. One thing I learned is that it’s very difficult to both make money and have time. Right now, my life is focused on having the time I wanted.


Of course, I needed something to keep me afloat to pay for gas, food, and the opportunity to do things with friends that may cost money. I finally put my nail technician license to use and landed a part-time job at a nail salon. The paychecks are not even half of what I used to make, but they are enough to fill my tank and pay for occasional goodies such as art supplies. Things are not moving forward very quickly in the sense of saving up for moving out, but I don’t feel that I am moving backward anymore. I am simply staying at a point that is necessary in order for me to move forward in other aspects of my life. While I still occasionally get anxious about money, I remind myself that this time is what I have wanted for a long time. This exact point in my life is temporary. This, too, shall pass with the goal of moving forward.


Finding the Opportunity


The first thing I started doing semi-regularly after losing my job was going to the gym. I had wanted to find a good time that worked for me when the gym wasn’t too crowded. Late mornings, when I would typically be at work, were a good time to do that. I could finally animate again, as I was not drained from a long day of boring work. I could make more things for my Etsy shop. I had more time to look for jobs and write better cover letters. Of course, the market is still terrible, and I’ve had no luck, but I felt better about the jobs I did apply for. I started writing more, reworking my novel I’ve been writing since middle school. I finally got a place where I can send it to literary agents—for the second time. Again, a very difficult market, but I feel good about the place the book is at now. Most importantly, I have enough time to go to the ceramic studio.


When I was told that I make ceramic animal mugs very well, that stuck with me. I was still at work at the time, but I had looked online for affordable ceramic studio memberships. Everything in Boston is ridiculously expensive, but there was one place in Lowell that was fairly priced. It was thirty minutes away from North Andover, where I worked, and I thought I could make the balance work. Looking back now that I no longer have that job, I realize it’s a lot more time to dedicate to ceramics than I would have had time for while working full time. I did not join the studio membership right away, as I wanted to make sure I was going to get hired after my contract ended. It turns out that not being hired was exactly what I needed to go forth with the studio membership.


As I continue to create this summer, I have a goal of working part-time while focusing most of my time and energy on exploring paths and finding my potential. I want to move from Etsy to my own online store. I want to make as many tangible pieces as possible to sell at art fairs this fall. I want to submit to as many literary agents as possible. I hope to have something accomplished with a true definition of myself by the fall. I have time now. I’m going to use it to really hustle and focus on myself.



A Mindset That Applies to More Than Just Jobs


I know that my story is a very personal and specific one. I’d really like to open up about how the right mindset can help you overcome anything. Whether you’re like me and you’ve lost a job, or you’re struggling with something else, such as a relationship, a move, or regrets, just know that your thinking can help you move forward. What’s a new light or angle you haven’t considered looking at the problem in? You lost something, but what can you gain from this? Perhaps it’s a lesson that makes you stronger, wiser, or better. Maybe it’s more time. The one thing we can never get back. Maybe it’s a new and unexpected relationship.


This is not to say that whatever struggles you may have are not there. But looking at something positive, having good people who have your back, can help you see the other side of the situation. It’s the other side that we need to get to, and it’s important that it’s as accessible as possible. The other side may not be what you expect either. My thoughts were that I was just going to find another job, with little gigs in between. But I was able to look at the opportunity that was right in front of me: time. Things aren’t moving as quickly forward as I hoped, but I would gladly sacrifice that for the time I now see that I have.


From Fear to Freedom


This is not all said and done. Moving through life, whether you’re going forward quickly or staying stationary to figure things out, there are plenty of ups and downs. I try to prepare myself and keep an open mind about what may happen. However, things don’t happen when you wait. I keep my mind open, but I actively explore my options. I actively apply to jobs, actively create, and actively research. I also try to now recognize when I’m walking through peanut butter.



Goals are excellent to have, but it is incredibly freeing when you have multiple goals in several different fields of life. I have a goal of taking the summer to explore, and a goal of finding something that clicks by the fall. What that could be, is anything. Maybe I will extend my hours at the nail salon, maybe I will still work part-time, but I will be much more comfortable having an online store. Maybe my book will finally get accepted by an agent. Who knows, maybe I will still be figuring things out. That’s okay. It’s okay to forgive yourself for not meeting your goals right away. They will always be there, waiting for you when you’re ready.


Doors close all the time—and we don’t often get a say in which ones do. But it’s important to pause and reflect, look at your options. There may be a door right in front of you, which would be the obvious one. But look left and right, at the off-center doors. They might take you down a different path, and that path might be better. You get to choose which door you open next. If you’re stuck in peanut butter and feeling scared, you are not alone, just as I am not alone. Clean up that peanut butter! An ending can be hard, sticky, and scary, but the next beginning might be something better.


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉


Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

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  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 28, 2025

Being the family scapegoat often means carrying the emotional weight of an entire household's dysfunction—silently, unfairly, and for years. But recognizing the role and reclaiming your worth is the first courageous step toward healing.

The Family Scapegoat: What If the Problem Was Never You?

You were always “too sensitive,” “too dramatic,” or “the problem child.” Sound familiar? In many families, there’s an unspoken rule: one person bears the blame when things go wrong. That person is the scapegoat—the emotional dumping ground, often assigned this role since childhood. While it’s rarely discussed openly, scapegoating is more common than most people realize, and its psychological impact can last a lifetime.


Scapegoating is a form of emotional abuse that typically reflects a dysfunctional family system. Instead of addressing their own issues, some families project shame, guilt, or anger onto one person, usually the most emotionally attuned or different child. The scapegoat becomes the “identified problem,” even when their reactions are normal responses to abnormal situations.


What Scapegoating Looks Like


Scapegoating doesn’t always look like yelling or overt cruelty. Sometimes, it’s subtle—and shockingly normalized.


Here are some real-life situations that may sound all too familiar:


  • Your sibling breaks something, but you’re the one who gets blamed because you're “always causing problems.”


  • You speak up about how a family member hurt you, and you're told you’re too dramatic or “just trying to start trouble.”


  • A parent vents their frustrations about work or their marriage by yelling at you for forgetting to take out the trash.


  • At family gatherings, you're constantly the butt of the joke—“It’s just teasing,” they say, while you feel smaller each time.


  • You succeed in school or work, but it's ignored or undermined, while your sibling’s minor achievements are celebrated.


  • You're expected to be the mediator during arguments, even though you're the one who was hurt.


  • When you try to set a boundary, you're called selfish, ungrateful, or accused of turning your back on the family.


  • You were labeled “difficult” as a child simply for having emotions or asking questions no one wanted to answer.


Over time, this emotional invalidation chips away at your self-esteem and conditions you to suppress your truth to avoid further conflict.


The Hidden Damage


Children who grow up as the family scapegoat often carry chronic anxiety, perfectionism, people-pleasing behaviors, or deep-rooted shame into adulthood. They may feel isolated, emotionally reactive, or confused about why relationships are so draining.



The Trauma a Scapegoat Carries:


  • Complex PTSD from years of emotional neglect, rejection, or gaslighting.


  • Hypervigilance, always anticipating blame or criticism even in safe environments.


  • Emotional dysregulation, especially when trying to express needs or establish boundaries.


  • Fear of vulnerability, as speaking up often led to ridicule, rejection, or punishment.


  • A distorted self-image, shaped by internalized beliefs like “I’m hard to love” or “I ruin everything.”


  • Attachment wounds, making intimacy feel unsafe or unpredictable in adult relationships.


These aren't just emotional bruises—they are psychological injuries that impact how scapegoated individuals see themselves and engage with the world.


Reclaiming Your Power: Setting Boundaries to Protect Your Mental Health


The first step in healing from scapegoating is recognition. You’re not imagining things. If your gut tells you something has always felt off, trust that. The second step is boundaries.

Here are powerful boundary-setting tools:


  • Limit contact or create emotional distance from toxic family dynamics.


  • Practice emotional detachment—you can care about your family without carrying their pain.


  • Say no without guilt. You’re allowed to decline conversations or roles that are harmful.


  • Choose your truth. Write down what actually happened to you. Naming the reality is the beginning of breaking the cycle.


Healing also involves connecting with others who validate your experience. Therapy, trauma-informed support groups, or even safe online communities can help you feel seen and understood.



You Are Not the Problem—You Were the Mirror


Often, scapegoats are the most emotionally intelligent or compassionate members of the family. That makes them threatening in systems where dysfunction is denied. Your sensitivity is not a flaw—it’s a strength that was never nurtured.


So here’s the question: If the role of scapegoat was assigned to you, not earned… isn’t it time to stop carrying what was never yours to begin with?


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



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