The Disappearing Act - When People Vanish as Soon as You Start Winning

You ever notice how some people love you the most when your life is one big, flaming dumpster fire?Like, when you’re crying in your car, eating soggy fries of despair, mascara running like a crime scene, and texting your bestie “I can’t do this anymore” for the 17th time that week, they’re there.

Oh, they thrive then.
They show up with comforting advice, half-baked affirmations, and iced lattes they definitely paid for with your emotional energy.
They’ll pat your shoulder and say, “You’re doing your best.”
They’ll send you inspirational quotes like they’re the Dalai Lama with Wi-Fi.

But then… you start doing better.
You start healing. You start winning.
You start waking up and not immediately wanting to throw your phone into the ocean. And suddenly? They vanish. Gone. Poof. Like my motivation after a single email marked “urgent.”

No goodbye. No congratulations. Just silence. Like your glow-up triggered their allergies. Because here’s the plot twist nobody warns you about:

Not everyone claps when you win.

Some people were only comfortable with you small — when you were struggling, doubting, breaking apart, asking for advice you didn’t need, giving them space to feel like the stable one.
Your chaos made them feel balanced. Your tears made them feel important. But your growth? Your confidence? Your success? That doesn’t serve their ego anymore.

And let’s be honest ... it stings.
You think, weren’t you the one who said you believed in me?
Turns out, they liked the version of you who needed them, not the version who learned to stand alone.

The moment you start saying no, setting boundaries, or—heaven forbid—feeling happy without their validation, they’ll hit you with:
“Wow… you’ve changed.”

Um, yes, Brenda. That’s called character development.
I’m not going to stay a tragic side character in my own story just to make you comfortable.

They’ll get quiet. Distant. They might even start sprinkling a little shade in your direction, disguised as concern.
“Oh, you seem different lately.”
Translation: “You seem confident and that terrifies me.”

And it’ll hurt, babe. Because you thought they were your people. The ones who’d dance with you when you finally got it right, not the ones who ghost you the second your life stops being a soap opera.

But here’s where the magic kicks in. When people start fading away, don’t chase them. Let them go.
It’s not rejection, it’s redirection.

Losing fake friends isn’t a tragedy. It’s a spiritual exfoliation. A deep cleanse for your energy. A people peel. Because when the noise dies down, what’s left? The real ones. The ride-or-dies who hype you up even when they’re still figuring out their own mess. The ones who don’t compete, they celebrate. The ones who see you evolving and say, “Go bigger.” Those people? They’re rare. They’re gold. Keep them close.

Everyone else? Let them watch your next chapter from a safe emotional distance, preferably through the crack of a door they closed themselves.

Here’s the truth:
When you level up, your circle might shrink. But that’s because elevation requires separation.
You can’t carry everyone with you, especially not the ones who were only there for the drama, not the dream.

So let them fade. You don’t owe anyone the old version of you just because they preferred her smaller, sadder, easier to handle. You’re allowed to shine. Loudly. Boldly. Unapologetically. You’re allowed to become the person you prayed you’d one day be, and if that makes someone uncomfortable, that’s their growth problem, not yours.

Because baby, you’re not just surviving anymore. You’re thriving. You’re rewriting your story. And if that makes people disappear? Good. They were never meant for the sequel.

Keep blooming, keep building, and never dim your light for anyone who can’t handle the brightness.
Your glow-up isn’t up for discussion, it’s destiny. 💋🔥✨