Let’s talk about punishment. Not the courtroom kind, not the kind with sentencing or cell doors—but the quiet kind. The very human urge to make someone feel what they made you feel.
I get it. When someone cheats on you, betrays you, manipulates you—it’s natural to want justice. I mean, I’ve watched enough crime shows to know: motive, intent, revenge. Clean storyline.
And in the beginning, I wanted it too. I felt it. That fire-in-your-gut kind of rage. That storm of “how dare you?” It was hot, it was fast, and it was real.
So I did what many people would do.
I posted on social media.
That One Time I Called Her Out Publicly
Ah yes, the digital burn. I put up a post on social media calling her out. I shared the truth—my truth. That she had cheated, that it was with a colleague, that she was not who she claimed to be.
And I’ll be honest: in the moment, it felt good. Like finally I wasn’t the one protecting her. I wasn’t the one carrying the secret. It felt like justice.
But then… 24 hours later… that post didn’t feel so good anymore.
I read it again. I asked my sister to read it too. She gently asked, “Does this align with you?”
Oof. Gut. Punch.
When You Realise You’ve Stepped Outside Your Integrity
The truth was, it didn’t align with me. It wasn’t who I am. It wasn’t how I want to show up in the world—even when I’m bleeding. Especially when I’m bleeding.
I’d acted out of pain. Out of shame. Out of a desperate need to flip the power back into my own hands. But punishment didn’t ease the hurt. It actually deepened it.
And that’s when I realised: punishment might feel powerful, but it doesn’t actually heal anything.
Punishment Isn’t New—But Maybe It’s Time We Outgrew It
You know what’s wild? Punishment, as a concept, is ancient. And I don’t just mean emotionally—I mean legally, systemically, societally.
Originally, prison wasn’t even the punishment. It was just the waiting room. A cage to hold people before they were publicly whipped, beaten, beheaded—whatever fit the crime (or didn’t). Physical punishments were so brutal and so disproportionate that looking back, it’s actually horrifying.
People were jailed or punished for:
- Stealing food to feed their families
- Being an unmarried woman
- Being “disobedient” to societal norms
And guess what? These weren’t even considered punishments by today’s standards—they were executions. Literally. The whole justice system was built around making people suffer so they wouldn’t dare repeat it.
The Myth of the “Reasonable Person”
Now we’ve evolved a bit (kind of), and we use legal ideas like “Would a reasonable person react this way?” But what’s “reasonable” when you’re talking about trauma, nervous system dysregulation, or survival?
One person might yell back.
Another might freeze.
Another might stab someone out of sheer fear, shaped by a lifetime of violence.
Context matters. Lived experience matters. Humans aren’t robots with the same settings. So this idea that there’s one “right” reaction? That’s flawed too.
What We Think Punishment Will Do
When we’re in pain—whether from a breakup or betrayal or something much bigger—we want someone to pay for it. We want to scream: “You hurt me. You broke me. You owe me.” And that’s human. That’s ancient.
But punishment doesn’t heal. Not historically. Not personally. Not emotionally.
What we need is rehabilitation. Community. Connection. Inclusion. Support.
What if instead of investing in isolation and control, we invested in:
- Teaching children emotional intelligence
- Giving mothers and families real support
- Offering people practical tools—like financial literacy, communication skills, mindfulness, and nervous system regulation
- Making mental health as normal as maths
We’re so disconnected from each other—and from ourselves. No wonder the system mirrors that.
From Reacting to Reflecting
That experience taught me something invaluable: when you’re hurting, you need an outlet—but that outlet doesn’t need to be explosive.
Now? I write. I sit. I breathe. I get curious. I say to myself:
- “Wow, I’m really triggered. Why?”
- “What belief is this poking at?”
- “What story am I telling myself right now?”
Because most of the time, what I really want isn’t punishment—it’s understanding. It’s peace. It’s closure. And none of those things are delivered in the form of a spiteful post.
The Cop Brain and the Wounded Heart
Let’s be real—I worked in law enforcement. My whole world was built on systems of justice, rules, and consequence. So the idea that someone could just hurt me and not be held accountable? Wild.
But healing isn’t the justice system. There’s no sentencing. There’s no formal apology. And often, there’s no “closure.”
What there is—is you. Your truth. Your growth. And the choice to break the cycle of hurt-for-hurt.
The Slippery Slope of Villainising
I don’t want to be the person who defines someone by their worst decision. I don’t want to become so stuck in the pain that I paint someone as a monster just so my heartbreak makes sense.
That doesn’t mean I excuse what happened. But it means I’m not interested in playing judge, jury, and executioner.
I’m interested in healing. I’m interested in rising. I’m interested in becoming someone I can respect—especially when no one’s watching.
“Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally… Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves.”
– Don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements
So Here’s My Truth
Punishment gave me five minutes of satisfaction and five days of misalignment.
It made me feel powerful. Until it didn’t.
And now I know better.
I don’t want to retaliate. I want to regulate.
I want to ground. I want to write. I want to hold my wounded self with compassion and whisper, “I know this hurts. But we don’t have to bleed on anyone else to heal it.”
“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.”
– Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
