1. The Apartment Complex of Assumptions
When I moved from King of Prussia to Upper Darby, people had a lot to say.
“You moved to the hood?”
“That area’s dangerous.”
“Be careful.”
There was a very specific image people had of Upper Darby—and it wasn’t exactly glowing.
Meanwhile, I’m standing in my apartment, beaming.
It’s adorable. It’s quiet. It’s me.
I feel safe. I feel grounded.
Sure, it’s more densely populated.
And yes, I leave for the gym at odd hours.
So am I more aware of my surroundings when I walk to my car at 5 a.m.?
Of course I am.
Do I carry self-defense?
Yes.
Statistically speaking, more densely populated areas come with higher rates of crime.
More people = more variables.
More variables = more volatility.
That’s not fear—it’s just math.
But I take the same precautions here that I did in King of Prussia.
And ironically, I witnessed more crime working at Victoria’s Secret in the King of Prussia Mall than I’ve experienced living here.
There, people stole entire shopping bags of bras in broad daylight.
Here, people yell real shit through open windows.
Unfiltered. Human. Honest.
There’s a rawness here that feels refreshing—because it’s not curated.
The assumptions people made about my move weren’t based on my reality.
They were based on theirs—on their learned definitions of safety, class, worth, and danger.
They couldn’t see what I saw,
because they were only looking through the lens they’d inherited.
2. The Misinterpretation Mirror
Every time you label someone as “too much” or “not enough,”
you’re not revealing anything about them.
You’re revealing something about yourself.
Your comfort zone.
Your blind spots.
Your hidden rules.
How often have you misunderstood someone simply because they didn’t fit into your expectations?
How often have you been misunderstood the same way?
Back when I was on dating apps, this used to happen all the time.
I’d write a message with punctuation. Paragraphs. Thought.
And I’d get responses like:
“You’re intense.”
“You’re intimidating.”
“You talk like you’re writing a book.”
And I’d think—No. I just communicate clearly.
I type the same way I speak—intentional, direct, considered.
Because how you do anything is how you do everything.
But if someone isn’t used to clarity, they’ll call it aggression.
If they’re not used to depth, they’ll call it drama.
If they’re not used to being understood, they’ll panic when someone finally gets them.
Most of the time, people aren’t reacting to you.
They’re reacting to what you represent.
And if what you represent challenges the edges of their container,
it’s going to feel like a threat.
3. The Math of Misalignment
We don’t see things as they are.
We see them as we are.
Your limitations shape your worldview.
And when you don’t question those limitations,
you start mistaking your personal beliefs for universal truth.
Back when I was on dating apps, I had a conversation with a guy who asked me how many miles I run per week.
I said,
“It varies.”
He pushed:
“Okay, but what’s your average?”
So I explained:
“I just wrapped up a challenge I created for myself—10 miles a day for 7 days straight.
That was 70 miles two weeks ago.
The week after that, I didn’t run at all because I was in recovery.
So technically, the average between those two weeks is 35.”
It was called the Love Hurts Challenge—a challenge within a challenge.
Something I created to make up miles from another one I’d missed.
Because that’s the kind of lifestyle I lead sometimes.
His response?
“That’s crazy.”
But I didn’t stop there.
I followed up:
“How many miles per week, max, could I run that wouldn’t be considered crazy to you?”
And just like that—
he gave me his limit.
Not mine.
To me, the number was just data.
Context.
A snapshot of a lifestyle that changes depending on the race, the season, the goal.
But to him, it wasn’t information.
It was confrontation.
A reminder that people exist beyond the borders of what he believes is possible.
He wasn’t reacting to the mileage.
He was reacting to what the mileage meant to him.
And that’s what we do.
We assume our definition of “healthy,” “normal,” or “too much” is the baseline.
But what if it’s just… the baseline for us?
If you’ve never tried running 50 miles a week,
of course it sounds like madness.
But that doesn’t mean the runner is unhinged.
It just means the lens you’re looking through is limited.
4. The Bigger Picture
This is why clarity isn’t just a luxury.
It’s a lifeline.
It’s the difference between being present and being performative.
Between love and control.
Between connection and correction.
And the first step toward clarity?
Is learning to question your own definitions.
What are the assumptions you’re carrying?
What are the limitations you’ve mistaken for truth?
How often do you confuse
“That’s not for me”
with
“That shouldn’t be for anyone”?
Because there’s a whole world outside the walls we’ve inherited.
And if we could learn to
listen before labeling—
observe before objecting—
we might find that what we call “too much” in others
is the exact amount of freedom
we’ve never allowed ourselves to want.
© 2025 Kimberly Beth Thomas. All rights reserved
If this made something click—or challenged how you see the world—share it.
This series wasn’t written to tell you what to think.
It was written to hold up a mirror.
Because sometimes the story we tell about someone else…
is really just the one we haven’t admitted to ourselves.
Enjoyed this post? Catch up on the full series:
👈 Part 1: Emotional Landmines – The Myth of Perfect Love
👈 Part 2: The Water We Swim In – What Misalignment Really Means
👈 Part 3: Precision of Misunderstanding – The Language Ledger