Great Joy, Profound Disappointments

The birth of a new baby girl, whom we named "Rose," was a singular event I wished to share with the world. I announced the news with unbridled joy, anticipating that those who claim to be my friends and admirers would express their care in the simplest of ways: a single word, "Congratulations." A modest gesture that says, "I see you, and I rejoice with you."

Instead, I was met with silence.

They saw the post; their eyes grazed the news, yet their fingers faltered, unable to muster a single word.

Then comes the familiar counsel: "Don’t take it personally." Advice parroted by all, as if detachment from emotion were the pinnacle of wisdom. But let’s be honest: when someone you regard as a friend—someone who has time and again claimed their love and care for you—overlooks you in a profoundly special moment of your life, how can their silence not feel personal?

Taking it personally is, at times, the most conscious choice. For in doing so, you permit yourself to feel the sting rather than deny it. You let the silence of others speak loudly, and you listen.

Rather than fleeing from the pang of disappointment, you face it, and through that confrontation, you arrive at greater clarity. For the truth is that relationships are not defined by what people say, but by what they do—or fail to do.

True, you could choose not to take it personally to avoid confronting yourself or others. You might convince yourself they were busy, forgot, or missed the post. That way, you preserve an outward semblance of peace with them, clinging to the illusion that "everything’s fine." But deep down, you know the truth. You know who showed up and who didn’t, and you realize that ignoring this feeling doesn’t erase the disappointment—it merely buries it, where it may fester over time.

Sometimes, taking it personally is liberation. It doesn’t mean harboring grudges, but rather reshuffling priorities. When people reveal their true selves, believe them. Their silence isn’t just an absence of words—it’s a revelation of reality. It clarifies who truly stands by your side, who cares enough about your happiness to engage, and who was merely present out of courtesy or habit.

Yes, disappointment stings. It’s painful to see those you thought cared for you fail to celebrate one of the happiest chapters of your life. But that pain is necessary, for it paves the way to a deeper truth. It’s a reminder that not everyone deserves a front-row seat in your life. If they can’t share in your joy, why expect them to support you in your struggles?

So yes, I’ll take their silence personally. I’ll let it be the lesson I need to learn. I’ll feel the hurt, wrestle with the letdown, and then move forward—lighter, wiser, and more discerning about who merits my energy and who doesn’t.

To those who celebrated with me and shared in my happiness, thank you for your genuine warmth. You are the ones I want near me. As for those who chose silence, you’ve said more than you realize. Don’t worry—I’ve heard you loud and clear.