I am no stranger to gossip.
I grew up on a really small neighborhood block. The streets lining the school in a perfect square and we would see dozens upon dozens of children walking from their homes to the school yard.
My brother and I were often a spectacle – latch-key kids with clear hand-me downs, almost no lunches, almost dirty but not quite; rarely getting to school on time because we were always ignored – why go to a place that brought no joy; but rather stares and whispers.
That’s the life I have known.
Stares and whispers.
I’ve always been a little… odd, I suppose.
I just don’t see the world the same way everyone else seems to.
I remember being on a missions trip in remote Haiti. The village sat on top of a mountain—a seven-hour hike just to get there. One of my male teammates fell ill with heat stroke, and I did what I could to take care of him.
And I got in trouble for it.
I was told I couldn’t care for him like that because I “might cause him to have feelings” for me.
To this day, I don’t understand it. Why can’t I care for someone in need? Why can’t I give love to those who feel unloved? Why can’t I be a sounding board for someone who just wants to be heard?
I have never understood why I don’t quite fit in—or why some people would rather I conform to the most ridiculous expectations that go against the very idea of loving and caring for others. Isn’t that what we’re here to do?
Well, as I’ve said before, I am NOT a saint. That’s for damn sure.
But I am someone who just wants to know why.
I can be absolutely furious at someone—hate raging through my entire body—and yet, if they’re willing to tell me their truth, you can almost always get me back to the table.
We all see the world through our own lenses: our experiences, our biases, our upbringing, our hurts and traumas. So if you’re reacting to me, or to a situation, I want to understand it so I can meet you where you are. I want people to feel less alone in this world.
Easier said than done. Especially when my approach doesn’t fit other people’s expectations—or their way of handling things.
Even now, in the midst of this season, some would prefer I retaliate—against the intentional destruction of my character, the calculated attempts to keep me from sharing my passion for authentic relationships, the exhausting power plays.
But I just… can’t.
If I still believed the way I once did, I’d lean on the Bible’s “Vengeance is mine” and trust karma to do the rest.
And honestly, even then, I hope it doesn’t. Doesn’t that hope stir the gossip pot?
People wonder:
Why don’t I go hit for hit?
Why don’t I retaliate?
They assume it’s because I can’t.
Or because the rumors are true.
Or because there’s something wrong with me.
To be fair, I am odd.
But at the end of the day, fighting fire with fire only means two people get burned.
I try not to get involved in the gossip – so that means I almost always do not understand what’s going on or why.
But I do know this—when someone reacts in an aggressively destructive way, it’s because there’s something bigger going on that I’m not seeing.
And in that space, I would rather:
Show kindness in the pain.
Be patient in the healing.
Stay present instead of turning my back.
That’s the kind of person I want to be.
But here’s the thing—when you choose not to fight back, not to match someone’s fire with your own, it doesn’t mean the whispers stop.
In fact, sometimes it makes them louder.
And that’s where the real test begins… because when you’re living in a season of stares, half-truths, and full-blown fabrications, you have to decide what’s worth responding to—and what’s worth letting burn itself out.
Which brings me to something I know all too well: gossip.
“Yeah so you and “unnamed coworker” are having a beef?”
“Are we now?” was my light-hearted response, and I chuckled a bit.
The amount of people I am in “an argument with” is quite astonishing. For someone who advocates for healthy relationships – if the gossip were true, I would be the worst hypocrite in the world.
The truth is far less entertaining, and I think that that is the problem.
Myself and the co-worker having a beef – is me not allowing him to dictate my role.
Me stepping away from an acquaintance – is me setting boundaries.
Me adding friends to my peer group – is me trying to elevate my awareness. How can I grow if I don’t have those around me pushing me to be better.
Me blocking someone I used to explain – is me protecting my nervous system, not my reputation.
Me posting fewer details online – is me starving the rumor mill and feeding my real relationships.
Paint me how you will—it makes for a much more entertaining story.
Coloring outside the lines has always been more fun, hasn’t it?
Or maybe it’s not about fun at all. Maybe it’s about power. Power that isn’t yours but you want to control because it makes you feel important. Because it makes you feel seen.
But here’s the thing: gossip loses power when truth walks in.
Gossip — casual or unconstrained conversation or reports about other people, typically involving details not confirmed as being true.
And here’s where I used to struggle. I wanted to scream my truth. To shove it in their faces, as though forcing it into the light would vindicate me. I thought it would silence the whispers, stop the lies. Instead, it only fed them.
Looking back, I realize the obsession with “reputation” was never mine—it was something the church, my family, and my ex-husband expected of me.
I cared about it because they required it of me. And once I let it go, I was free.
After my divorce, I got used to the stares and whispers. I stopped trying to fight my way into being heard. I chose to protect my mental health over protecting my “reputation.”
And here I am again.
Another season of stares. Another season of whispers. Another season of turning the other cheek, holding my head high, killing them with kindness, choosing not to fight every battle, never wrestling with pigs (because we all know how that ends), and remembering that silence is sometimes the best answer.
The irony is, I carry so much truth. Truth that would vindicate me instantly—and truth I will never share.
Because the most sacred things I hold are the unspoken hurts, pains, and fears entrusted to me. They’re not mine to weaponize. I am not a sponge that soaks up stories just to wring them out for convenience or revenge. The thought of it makes my skin crawl.
So no, I don’t play that game.
I hold, support, and protect truths—even the ones that could burn everything down—because integrity is louder than gossip ever could be.
So I choose this:
I hold.
I protect.
I keep what’s mine to keep.
Because in a world full of whispers, I’d rather be underestimated in silence than celebrated in lies!
With all my love!
Xoxo J
Journey Coaching 
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