Tessa ReneePeople assume kindness is unconditional. They think if you’re warm, generous, or nurturing, it must mean you’ll tolerate anything. That’s the mistake. Because kindness is a choice, not a weakness. And my softness comes with sharp exit strategies.
I’ve always been the one to make people feel comfortable. I’ll show up with baked cookies when you’re having a bad day, the friend who remembers how you take your coffee, the one who texts “made it home safe?” after a night out. That’s my nature. I care. But here’s the thing: I can care deeply and still know when to cut someone off.
The block button is my secret recipe. Just as easy as preheating an oven, I can remove myself from your world. No second chances, no long explanations, no dramatic speeches. Just silence. Because why waste breath when a single click can end the noise?
It’s not contradiction, it’s balance. I give my softness freely to people who respect it. But when that energy is taken for granted, I retreat without guilt. The same hands that knead dough and tie ribbons on gift bags can also press “block” with zero hesitation. Both are love, in different forms: one is love for you, the other is love for myself.
What people don’t realize is that both acts come from the same place: care. Baking cookies is care for you. Blocking is care for me. And I’ve learned that one without the other isn’t real kindness, it’s just self-sacrifice.
So yes, I’ll bake you cookies. I’ll comfort you, laugh with you, hold space for you. But if you show me that you don’t deserve that softness? Don’t be surprised when the cookies cool on your counter while I disappear from your notifications forever.
Final Word: My kindness has an oven timer, when it dings, so do your chances.
Disclaimer: This is a metaphor, not a manual. Don’t take out your frustration on baked goods.
Tessa Renee
