Scripture: Romans 12:18 – “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
I value friendships deeply.
Adult friends are hard to come by. (We’ll talk more about that another week.) Bottom line: we don’t spend eight hours a day together like we did in school. Unless you work with someone, it’s tough to move from acquaintance to actual connection.
And, per my therapist, I tend to move people too quickly through the stages of relationship. I go from “just met” to “text-you-daily, trust-you-deeply” in record time. Not always, but enough that it’s a pattern.
So when I thought I’d made a close, soul-level friend, I was all in. We traveled together. We shared life stories. They asked for work advice. It felt mutual. It felt like the kind of friendship that was going to go the distance.
Until it didn’t.
When my father was being scammed, I had no choice but to take him to court to protect what he had left. As an only child, sitting across from him in a courtroom and declaring him legally incompetent gutted me. That afternoon, emotionally raw, I got a text from my friend asking if I could proof a document.
Normally I would’ve helped without blinking. But that day, I didn’t have it in me.
So I told her. I shared briefly but vulnerably what I’d just walked through.
She replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
That was it. No follow-up. No “I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this.” No “Take care of yourself.” Just .
At first, I spiraled. Was I too blunt? Did I overshare? Should I have offered to help anyway?
And then I took a breath and remembered something Mel Robbins teaches in her Let Them book—something that has saved me more than once:
“When someone misunderstands you, it’s not about you. It’s about their frame of reference. Their beliefs. Their insecurities. Their past. Their expectations. Their projections.”
Their frame.
In other words: people aren’t just reacting to you. They’re reacting to everything they carry with them. Their story. Their wounds. Their fears. You just happened to bump into it.
And that’s when I realized: This isn’t mine to carry.
Everyone has a backstory.
And we don’t know most of it.
The person who’s sharp with you?
Maybe no one taught them how to regulate their emotions.
The one who misunderstood you?
Maybe they’re still filtering everything through the voice of someone who once hurt them.
The one who went silent?
Maybe they never learned how to sit with pain—so they disappear from it.
When we understand that, we don’t excuse harmful behavior. But we do stop internalizing it. We stop writing stories about what we must’ve done wrong. We stop editing ourselves to make other people more comfortable.
Psychology calls this self-differentiation—staying rooted in who you are even when others are reacting, projecting, or retreating. It’s the ability to say, “That’s their lens. Their emotion. Their response. And it doesn’t get to undo my peace.”
Theology calls this grace—seeing people not just by what they say or do, but by what might be underneath it. Grace doesn’t mean enabling. Grace means having eyes to see the fuller story and a soul mature enough to say, “That’s not mine to fix.”
Jesus modeled this.
He didn’t personalize every rejection.
He didn’t chase down everyone who misunderstood him.
He didn’t keep explaining himself to people who weren’t really listening.
He moved in compassion, but never lost his clarity.
He loved people, but didn’t let their dysfunction define him.
Even when they falsely accused him.
Even when they projected onto him.
Even when they left.
He just kept walking in the direction of love.
And you can, too.
Romans 12:18 says, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
But here’s the thing: not all of it depends on you.
Not “as far as you can contort yourself.”
Not “as far as you can fix their frame.”
Not “as far as you can win their approval.”
Peace doesn’t mean pleasing.
Peace means knowing what’s yours—and releasing what isn’t.
Reflection for Today:
Where are you carrying someone else’s discomfort as if it were your responsibility?
Where are you shrinking or striving to preserve a connection that isn’t reciprocal?
What would shift if you whispered to your own soul: “This isn’t mine to carry”?
Breath Prayer:
Inhale: I release what’s not mine.
Exhale: I hold what is holy within me.
Grace and Peace,
Andrea