October 27, 2026
The Version of Me Who Kept the Peace
I keep sitting with the word agreeable.
It sounds so harmless. Almost sweet. The kind of word people use when they want to say you are pleasant, cooperative, easy to have around. But writing this book made me think about the cost hiding underneath it. How often agreeable means I will make this easier for you, even if it makes something harder for me.
That is the part that stayed with me while writing Zara.
Not the loud conflict. The quiet math of it all. How a person can keep giving a little more, carrying a little more, swallowing one more thing, until she looks up and realizes everybody has mistaken her endurance for consent.
I think many of us know that feeling beyond the workplace. We know how to become useful in love. Useful in friendship. Useful in family. We anticipate needs before they are spoken, then wonder why nobody notices ours.
And the uncomfortable truth is that usefulness can feel safer than being known.
If I am useful, I have a role. I have proof that I belong. If I am honest, I might inconvenience somebody. I might disappoint them. I might become the difficult one in a story where I had worked very hard to be good.
Writing BE THE PROBLEM stirred up that space for me. The moment between knowing something is wrong and being ready to name it. That messy middle where your body has already understood, but your voice is still trying to catch up.
I do not judge that hesitation.
Sometimes silence is not weakness. Sometimes it is a person gathering language. Gathering evidence. Gathering herself.
What I want readers to know is that there is no shame in taking time to recognize what you have been absorbing. There is no prize for noticing sooner. Growth is not always a brave speech delivered at exactly the right moment. Sometimes it is opening a blank document and writing down what happened. Sometimes it is deciding not to explain away the thing that hurt you.
Sometimes becoming begins with a sentence nobody else hears:
I know what I saw.
I know what I carried.
And I do not have to carry it anymore.