Offense has most of us in a chokehold. Not just a light grip… it’s the kind of hold that the old wrestler of my childhood, Jake “The Snake” Roberts, secured prior to finishing his matches with… when he drove your head into the ground while keeping you in said chokehold. He called this move the DDT. His DDT was sudden, crushing, and damaging enough to leave you dizzy. That’s what offense does to our perspective. It slams us down and scrambles the way we perceive people’s words, tone, and even their intent.
When offense leads the conversation, objectivity loses the war to subjectivity. Instead of weighing truth against possibility, we filter every statement through the lens of our personal experience. Someone’s observation isn’t just their viewpoint anymore, it becomes an attack. And in that posture, we miss the gift hiding in plain sight… the chance to grow.
The growth is knowing overcoming offense creates space for observation. It allows us to pause before reacting. To “try on” what someone says, see if it fits, and leave what doesn’t. Not everything said to us has to be worn, but if we don’t stop to observe, we’ll never know whether the words are wisdom waiting to clothe us or just a size too small for who we are becoming.
Think about it… a stranger can notice your hairstyle and compliment you. That same stranger can also point out a flaw you’d rather keep tucked away. Both are observations. Both can function as mirrors. One makes you smile, the other stirs discomfort. But neither has the power to wound you unless you hand it the weapon.
The real obstacle isn’t what’s said, it’s whether we can remain observers before becoming reactors. Because when we pause, when we breathe, we give ourselves the power to discern: Is this reflection meant for me? Does it reveal something I’ve ignored? Does it ask me to shift, to grow, to choose differently?
Overcoming offense doesn’t mean you accept every critique. It means you refuse to let offense be the DDT that knocks you out of clarity. It means you decide whether the mirror being held up is showing truth worth tending to, or simply an angle you don’t need to adopt.
Sometimes, the words we least want to hear are the very ones that free us. Sometimes, the observations that sting at first become the compass that reorients our growth.