The Older I Get, The Less I Want to Explain Myself

There was a time I felt the need to explain everything.

Why I made certain decisions. Why I kept quiet. Why I stopped showing up. Why I walked away. Why I chose work, rest, distance, or peace.

Maybe when we are younger, we believe that if we explain ourselves well enough, people will understand. If we find the right words, they will see our intentions. If we give enough context, they will support us. If we justify our actions, they will stop misunderstanding us.

But the older I get, the more I realize that understanding is not always about explanation. Sometimes, people only understand from where they are standing. Not from where you have been.

That does not mean we should never explain ourselves. In family, friendships, relationships and even at work, some explanation is needed. Communication matters. Accountability matters. Sometimes people deserve context. Sometimes we owe people honesty. Sometimes we need to sit down, speak properly, and allow others the chance to understand us.

But it also works both ways.

There must be a willingness to listen. A willingness to understand beyond one’s own assumption. A willingness to support, not just question. Because explaining yourself to someone who has already decided who you are is one of the most tiring things in the world.

At work, we are often told that we need to be seen. We need to be louder. We need to speak more. We need to make our presence known.

But what does that really mean?

Why is quiet consistency sometimes mistaken for lack of ambition? Why is doing good work quietly not always enough? Why must effort come with a performance? Why must contribution be announced before it is recognised?

There is a strange social expectation that if you are not loud about your work, your work may not matter as much. But not everyone is built to shout about what they do. Some people simply show up, do the work, carry the responsibility, solve the problems, and keep moving.

And even when you do speak up, what happens then? Is there an immediate promotion? An immediate bonus? An immediate salary increment? Sometimes, no. Sometimes all you get is a polite “well done” and another task added to your plate.

But maybe that is also why a simple “well done” matters more than people realise.

I have learned this with my own team. Small wins should not be invisible. Effort should not only be acknowledged when it becomes big enough for a presentation slide. Sometimes, a simple mention, a clap, a “good job”, or a “well done” can carry someone further than we think.

People may say they are not looking for validation. And maybe they are not. But recognition is not always about validation. Sometimes it is about being seen by the people who should have noticed.

The same applies to family and relationships. Not everyone is asking to be praised for every little thing. But support matters. Encouragement matters. Being understood matters. A simple acknowledgement can soften years of silent effort.

Then there is society.

Society will always perceive you as it sees fit. Not through your lens. Not through your history. Not through your lowest days. Not through the moments you had to pick yourself up alone.

People may not know the times you were down. They may not know the battles you fought quietly. They may not know the loneliness, the setbacks, the doubts, or the discipline it took to rise again.

But when you finally rise, when you start going out, showing up, living better, looking happier, or becoming more visible, conversations start. And not always positively.

That is when you realize something important: sometimes it is good to know what is being said and still choose to ignore it.

Not every opinion deserves a reaction. Not every assumption deserves clarification. Not every version of you created by others needs to be corrected.

Because the truth is, people will always have a version of you in their minds. Some will be fair. Some will be incomplete. Some will be completely wrong. But if you spend your whole life trying to correct every version, you will have no energy left to live your own truth.

These days, I choose my personal peace over almost anything and anybody.

I choose happiness, even if it looks simple, strange or misunderstood by others. I choose the state of just being. Not always chasing. Not always proving. Not always explaining. Sometimes just existing in a moment and allowing myself to enjoy it fully.

If I feel like cracking open a can of beer in the morning, I do it.

If I feel like sitting alone and having a RM200 steak, I do it.

Not because I am trying to impress anyone. Not because I am running away from anything. But because sometimes happiness is not a grand achievement. Sometimes happiness is sitting with yourself, doing exactly what you feel like doing, without needing to explain why.

There is peace in allowing yourself small freedoms. The freedom to enjoy your own company. The freedom to spend on yourself without guilt. The freedom to rest without explaining tiredness. The freedom to be happy without needing permission.

Still, through all of this, I try to stay grounded.

I believe in saying thank you.

When I wake up, I say thank you. Because no matter what is waiting for me that day, it is still a blessing to have another one. Another morning. Another chance. Another breath. Another opportunity to try, to fix, to learn, to feel, to live.

Some days are good. Some days test every part of you. Some days you come home tired, disappointed, angry, or heavy with thoughts you do not even know how to say out loud.

But even then, I try to come back home and say thank you.

Thank you for getting me through the day.

Thank you for protecting me from what I may not have seen.

Thank you for the lessons, even the uncomfortable ones.

Thank you for another chance to begin again tomorrow.

Gratitude does not mean life is perfect. It simply means I am aware that even on difficult days, there is still something to be thankful for. That is also part of peace.

Not toxic positivity. Not pretending everything is fine. But staying grounded enough to know that a bad day is not a bad life.

That does not mean I am perfect. I still judge sometimes. We all do. We are human. We form opinions. We react internally. We get disappointed. We get triggered. We get tired.

But I am learning to be more inclusive in how I see people. I am learning that everyone carries something we may not know about. I am learning that what happens externally is often beyond my control.

What people say is beyond my control. What people assume is beyond my control. How people choose to see me is beyond my control.

The only thing within my control is how I react. And more often now, I choose not to react.

Not because I am weak. Not because I do not have anything to say. Not because I accept every wrong assumption.

But because peace has become more important than proving a point.

Maybe maturity is realising that not every misunderstanding needs correction. Not every silence needs a defence. Not every action needs justification. Not every person deserves access to the full story.

Also, maybe maturity is accepting that people will see what they want to see anyway.

Some say I do not smile often. Apparently, I have a resting bitch face.

Maybe I do.

But I like to think I smile when it matters. And when I do, trust me, you will melt seeing it.

Maybe that is the point. Not everything about us needs to be constantly available. Not every emotion needs to be displayed on demand. Not every part of us needs to be understood by everyone.

Some parts can remain private. Some parts can be reserved for the right people. Some parts can simply belong to us.

There is a kind of freedom in knowing who you are without needing everyone else to agree.

The older I get, the less I want to explain myself.

Not because I do not care.

But because I have finally learned that being understood by everyone is not the goal.

Being at peace with myself is.

Just a note.

#ncchumma