Dear Tessa,
I keep finding reasons to excuse things that don’t sit right with me, and I don’t understand why it’s so hard to stop. I notice the patterns. I feel the disappointment. I even acknowledge, privately, that something isn’t okay. But when it comes time to actually hold it for what it is, I soften it. I rationalize. I explain it away like it’s my responsibility to make it make sense.
I tell myself they didn’t mean it like that. I remind myself they’re stressed, overwhelmed, busy, or doing the best they can. I convince myself that bringing it up would be unfair or dramatic. Somewhere along the line, I started believing that being understanding meant absorbing more than I should, and now I don’t know how to stop.
What bothers me most is that I wouldn’t make these excuses for someone I love. If a friend came to me with the same situation, I’d see it clearly. I’d tell her she deserves better. I’d tell her to trust what she’s feeling. But when it’s me, I hesitate. I doubt myself. I give chances that feel endless and explanations that don’t actually change anything.
I think part of me is afraid of what happens when I stop excusing it. Because once I name it honestly, I can’t unsee it. I can’t pretend it’s fine. I can’t keep telling myself to just be patient. And that means I might have to make a decision I’m not ready for yet.
So I stay in this uncomfortable middle space. Aware enough to feel unsettled, but not ready to act. I keep telling myself that if I just understand a little more, communicate a little better, or wait a little longer, things will shift. But they haven’t, and I’m starting to feel like my compassion is being used against me.
I don’t want to become hardened or cynical. I don’t want to stop seeing the good in people. I just don’t want to keep betraying myself in the name of empathy. I don’t know how to hold others accountable without feeling like I’m being unfair or unkind.
So why is it easier to excuse behavior that hurts me than to honor my own discomfort? And how do I stop confusing compassion with self-abandonment?
Signed:
A woman tired of making excuses
Tessa’s Thoughts on the Subject
Excusing behavior usually starts as empathy. You understand context. You consider intent. You want to be fair. But empathy becomes a problem when it consistently overrides your own experience. When you spend more time explaining someone else’s actions than acknowledging how those actions affect you, the balance has shifted.
Many women are taught that being understanding is a virtue, even when it comes at their own expense. You learn to prioritize harmony over honesty and patience over boundaries. Over time, excusing behavior becomes a coping mechanism. It helps you avoid conflict, disappointment, and the possibility that you might need to make a hard choice.
It’s also important to recognize how excuses protect hope. As long as there’s a reasonable explanation, you don’t have to confront the idea that something may not change. Excuses buy time. They keep doors open. But they also keep you stuck in situations that continue to drain you.
If you notice that you’re offering explanations without receiving accountability, that’s a red flag. Understanding someone’s circumstances does not require you to tolerate behavior that hurts you. Compassion does not mean limitless access. You can be kind and still be honest about what isn’t working.
One of the most telling questions to ask yourself is whether the excuse leads to change. If the behavior stays the same while the explanation keeps evolving, that’s information. Growth shows up in patterns, not promises. When effort and accountability are absent, excuses become a way of normalizing disappointment.
Letting go of excuses doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you start caring about yourself enough to stop minimizing your experience. Accountability isn’t cruelty. It’s clarity.
Tessa’s Straight-Up Perspective
Here’s the truth. You don’t keep excusing it because you’re weak. You do it because you’re hopeful, compassionate, and trying to avoid pain. But when empathy consistently costs you your peace, it’s no longer a virtue. You’re allowed to acknowledge harm without needing to justify it. You can understand someone’s situation and still decide it doesn’t work for you. Compassion should never require you to abandon yourself to keep it alive.
Disclaimer:
Dear Tessa is written woman-to-woman — honest, imperfect, and human. It’s meant to offer comfort, clarity, and perspective, not professional guidance. You know your life best.