Yesterday, I went with one of my best friends to a rage room. Her birthday was last week, and this is how she wanted to celebrate! I was all for it. I could only imagine how good it would feel to break things. As the day got closer, I started thinking about the objects—and, if I’m honest, even the people—that have caused me pain.

You see, for me, anger is often a mask for deeper pain. When I feel angry, it’s usually because something has hurt me in a way that’s hard to process. While I think I do a pretty good job working through these emotions, I was open to trying something new to let it all out. Still, I told my coworkers I was worried I might feel bad about breaking things. That’s why I decided to wear the new shirt my sister gave me that says, hang on, let me overthink this.

When our appointment time at The Breaking Point arrived, we were both buzzing with excitement, especially after catching a glimpse of the person before us in the room, surrounded by shattered debris. We started with a crowbar, smashing bottles. While it felt good, we quickly realized we were craving something different. That’s when we discovered the joy of slamming things onto the floor—it was unbelievably satisfying! We couldn’t help but laugh when something stubbornly refused to break, no matter how hard we tried. At one point, I wondered if either of us had enough rage to fully embrace this experience.

In the center of the room was an old washing machine, just begging to be destroyed. Taking turns, we grabbed a metal pipe and went to town on it. As I swung, over and over again, I realized the person I was really angry with was… me. I was angry and disappointed for all the times I failed to stand up for myself. Between swings, I shared this with my friend. She nodded and said she felt the same way—it all boiled down to being too nice.

The older I get, the more I realize this is one of the hardest lessons for me: holding onto my empathetic and caring heart while understanding that standing up for myself is not a bad thing. I was talking with Matthew about this the other day, and he said something that really stuck with me: I’m learning to be selfish in a world where most people are learning not to be.

I don’t want to care less. I don’t want to stop being kind. But I do want to let go of the feeling that standing up for myself or setting boundaries is wrong—or, even worse, mean. Thinking back to my reflection in the rage room, I realize that more than anything, I need to love myself. I don’t have to change who I am to understand that I deserve the same compassion and care that I so easily give to others.

I’m not sure why this is a lesson I keep having to relearn. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle, but what I do know is that I’ll keep working toward love—love for others and love for myself. As challenging as this journey is, I’d rather be remembered as someone who was too kind or loved too deeply than the opposite. I just need to keep reminding myself that I can love others and love myself at the same time.