You Won’t Always Be Liked—Love Anyway

One of the hardest lessons to learn in this life is that you won’t always be liked — even when your heart is pure, your intentions are good, and your love is real.
It’s a truth that stings, especially for people like me — those who love deeply, who care too much, who overthink every silence and sideways glance.

A lesson I learned pretty young is that you’re not everyone’s cup of tea. For someone like me, that was hard to accept. The more I felt someone disliked me, the more I assumed it was my fault — that I must have done something wrong to make them see me in the wrong light.

As I got older, I began to understand that you simply can’t make everyone like you or make everyone happy, no matter how much kindness or love you give.

I once asked my mom how to deal with people who were cruel or unkind, and she said, “You drown them in kindness. Because cruelty usually comes from people who don’t know how to love themselves.”
I never forgot that.

So that’s how I’ve tried to live — pouring love into people, especially those who seem to need it most.
But as you grow older — or maybe just wiser — you start caring more about living authentically and less about earning someone’s approval. You realize that some people, no matter how much kindness or grace they’re met with, will always remain angry or speak ill of you.

And when that realization hits, something inside you shifts. It stings — but it’s freeing.

I’ve been criticized for one thing or another — my style, my choices, my parenting, even my writing. Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow, realizing that no matter how much effort or empathy you show, some people would rather dissect you than understand you. There’s a quiet pain that comes from being misunderstood by people who never took the time to truly know you.

But over time, you learn to stop explaining yourself to people committed to misunderstanding you.

These days, I take a deep breath, shrug, and think, “F** ’em,”* and move on.
Not from anger — but from release. Because peace isn’t found in begging for understanding. It’s found in knowing you no longer need it.

As an empathetic person, my mind still tries to reason and find hidden justifications for people’s behavior. But if you spend too much time doing that, it becomes harder to let people in. It’s easy to close yourself off — to let the walls build higher each time someone throws a stone. And honestly, I understand why some people choose that route — it feels safer. Less painful.

But I’ve never been one to hold grudges; they feel more harmful to my own heart than to anyone else’s. Carrying resentment only ties you to the very pain you’re trying to escape.
So I forgive — not because people always deserve it, but because I deserve peace.

Now, with the anonymity of screens and keyboards, cruelty has found a new stage. People write things they would never dare to say face-to-face. They hide behind usernames and half-truths, tossing words like weapons and calling it “honesty.”

We’ve made cruelty casual.
Mockery a sport.
Gossip a language.
And judgment — our favorite form of entertainment.

I pray for something better — for myself, for all of us, but especially for my children.
I would give anything to know they can go to school not only safe, but safe from cruelty. It breaks my heart when I hear parents dismiss bullying as “just part of growing up.”

Why?
Why do we accept cruelty as a rite of passage?

I was raised to never be unkind — and that’s what I teach my children. Isn’t that what most parents teach?
If so, where are we losing the message?

Because cruelty isn’t born in children.
It’s learned by watching adults who roll their eyes, whisper behind backs, or find comfort in tearing others down.

Spend five minutes watching young children play — you’ll see that meanness isn’t natural. It’s modeled. It’s mirrored.

I’ll always strive to teach my kids, through both words and actions, that kindness matters. That life can change in a single moment. That gratitude, grace, and compassion are the quiet forces that make life beautiful.

And for those who choose gossip, lies, or cruelty, I hope they remember how fragile life truly is. You are one phone call away from an entirely different life — one diagnosis, one accident, one loss. And when that call comes, no one will remember your clever insults or cutting words. They’ll remember how you made them feel.

So, before you speak, pause.
Before you criticize, breathe.
Choose softness when the world hands you bitterness.

You won’t always be liked. But if you live with love — real love, not the kind that asks for applause — you’ll never lose yourself trying to please those who were never rooting for you.

And to those who have chosen to dislike me, for whatever reasons you hold — I don’t wish you anything but love and happiness. I hope life shows you more kindness. I forgive your unkind words, your gossip, and your ill will.

Because I’m still going to choose to be me — fully, freely, and unapologetically.

So if you ever wonder why I’m still smiling,
it’s because love made me unshakable. - Valerie Karen