Don’t Lose Your Self-Respect Just to Keep Someone’s Ego Happy – Gita’s Lesson
Riya Kumari | May 01, 2025, 23:57 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
So there I was, sitting cross-legged in my room, pretending to meditate (read: eavesdropping on my neighbor’s breakup through the wall), when the Bhagavad Gita flopped open on my bed like it, too, had something dramatic to say. Page 87. Krishna looks Arjuna dead in the soul and basically goes: “Do your duty. Stop overthinking. And for heaven’s sake, don’t grovel for the approval of people who wouldn't notice if you vanished into a puff of poetic smoke.”
Most of us, at some point, mistake silence for strength. We tolerate, absorb, adapt. We soften our edges to keep the peace. We downplay our worth so someone else doesn’t feel insecure. We convince ourselves that patience is love, and self-sacrifice is noble. But if you're constantly the one swallowing your voice so someone else feels louder, that’s not love. That’s self-erasure. The Bhagavad Gita has something to say about this. It teaches you to act without attachment to outcomes. To serve without ego. But never does it say, “Surrender your self-respect to keep someone else’s comfort intact.” In fact, Krishna reminds Arjuna—on the verge of emotional collapse—that choosing silence to avoid conflict isn’t peace. It’s avoidance dressed as virtue. And long-term? It’s a betrayal. Not of others, but of yourself.
Why Do We Do This?
Because we’re raised to think love equals endurance. That “maturity” means swallowing every truth that might hurt someone else. That walking away is failure. That forgiveness means forgetting how deeply you were made to shrink. But there’s nothing mature about being the only one compromising. There’s nothing noble about letting someone chip away at your spirit, one "It’s not a big deal" at a time.
We tell ourselves we’re being understanding, but often, we’re just afraid. Afraid to lose people. Afraid to be called selfish. Afraid to be alone with our truth. So we stay. We smile. We bend. Until one day, we look in the mirror and don’t recognize the version of ourselves that kept saying “yes” to what we never wanted in the first place.
What Krishna Actually Tells Arjuna
Krishna doesn’t tell Arjuna to fight because he’s angry. He tells him to fight because it’s right. Even though the people standing opposite him are loved ones. Even though the fight will be hard, ugly, and emotionally shattering. Krishna says: “Do not abandon your Dharma for fear of consequence. If it must be done, it must be done.”
Dharma doesn’t mean always being agreeable. It means standing where you need to stand—even if it makes people uncomfortable. Especially if it does. Your dharma may be to walk away. To speak up. To stop apologizing for needing respect as much as you offer it. That’s not rebellion. That’s spiritual maturity.
The Real Kind of Love
The kind of love that’s worth keeping will never need you to silence yourself. It won’t shrink you to feel taller. It won’t punish your honesty. It won’t feed off your guilt. It will see you in your full height, and say: “Good. I wouldn’t want you any smaller.”
If someone’s affection feels like a transaction—where your respect is the currency—they’re not loving you. They’re managing you. So here’s what the Gita asks of you: Stop managing people’s reactions. Start honoring your own truth.
A Final Thought to Carry With You
You are not here to play the part others wrote for you. You are not here to be the background score to someone else’s drama. Your voice, your values, your limits—they’re not liabilities. They are your internal compass. And when you betray them for temporary harmony, the cost isn’t just emotional. It’s existential.
So next time you feel that ache in your chest—the one that whispers “this doesn’t feel right”—listen to it. Say the thing. Draw the line. Walk away, if you must. And know that Krishna would stand with you—not because you chose yourself over others, but because you finally remembered you were never meant to forget yourself in the first place.
Why Do We Do This?
Fight
( Image credit : Pexels )
Because we’re raised to think love equals endurance. That “maturity” means swallowing every truth that might hurt someone else. That walking away is failure. That forgiveness means forgetting how deeply you were made to shrink. But there’s nothing mature about being the only one compromising. There’s nothing noble about letting someone chip away at your spirit, one "It’s not a big deal" at a time.
We tell ourselves we’re being understanding, but often, we’re just afraid. Afraid to lose people. Afraid to be called selfish. Afraid to be alone with our truth. So we stay. We smile. We bend. Until one day, we look in the mirror and don’t recognize the version of ourselves that kept saying “yes” to what we never wanted in the first place.
What Krishna Actually Tells Arjuna
Two way
( Image credit : Pexels )
Krishna doesn’t tell Arjuna to fight because he’s angry. He tells him to fight because it’s right. Even though the people standing opposite him are loved ones. Even though the fight will be hard, ugly, and emotionally shattering. Krishna says: “Do not abandon your Dharma for fear of consequence. If it must be done, it must be done.”
Dharma doesn’t mean always being agreeable. It means standing where you need to stand—even if it makes people uncomfortable. Especially if it does. Your dharma may be to walk away. To speak up. To stop apologizing for needing respect as much as you offer it. That’s not rebellion. That’s spiritual maturity.
The Real Kind of Love
True love
( Image credit : Pexels )
The kind of love that’s worth keeping will never need you to silence yourself. It won’t shrink you to feel taller. It won’t punish your honesty. It won’t feed off your guilt. It will see you in your full height, and say: “Good. I wouldn’t want you any smaller.”
If someone’s affection feels like a transaction—where your respect is the currency—they’re not loving you. They’re managing you. So here’s what the Gita asks of you: Stop managing people’s reactions. Start honoring your own truth.
A Final Thought to Carry With You
Solitude
( Image credit : Pexels )
You are not here to play the part others wrote for you. You are not here to be the background score to someone else’s drama. Your voice, your values, your limits—they’re not liabilities. They are your internal compass. And when you betray them for temporary harmony, the cost isn’t just emotional. It’s existential.
So next time you feel that ache in your chest—the one that whispers “this doesn’t feel right”—listen to it. Say the thing. Draw the line. Walk away, if you must. And know that Krishna would stand with you—not because you chose yourself over others, but because you finally remembered you were never meant to forget yourself in the first place.