I’m Not Changing Colors for You
September 5, 2026
I had one of those moments recently where I caught myself thinking, What is the deal? You know the kind.
You’re around someone you don’t really know. There’s no history between you; no argument, no falling out. You’ve literally never had a relationship to have a problem.
So you try--because your personality is happy and chatty.
You say something. You join the conversation. You smile. You make an effort to be friendly because, I don't know, we're grown women, and it seems like being kind to each other shouldn't be that difficult.
But every time you try, there’s a wall. You join a conversation, she stops talking. You try to engage, she doesn’t engage back. You make another attempt because maybe you’re reading it wrong. Same thing.
And eventually you realize: Oh! You really have no intention of getting to know me.
And I’m going to tell you something. The younger version of me would have been wrecked by this. Not outwardly; I probably would have acted like I didn't care.
But internally? Good grief.
The Chameleon Would Have Taken Over
I would have replayed every interaction.
Did I do something?
Does she not like me?
Did someone say something about me?
Was I too loud?
Did I talk too much?
Should I be quieter next time?
Maybe I need to try harder.
I would have studied her. Studied myself. Studied the room. And then I would have started adjusting. That's what chameleons do. We notice the temperature change before anyone else does. We feel the shift in the room. We recognize when someone doesn't respond to us the way we hoped they would, and instead of thinking, Well, that's interesting, we immediately think:
What do I need to change?
I've spent a lot of my life doing that....
Be a little quieter here. A little funnier there. Don't talk about that. Make sure she likes you. Don't be too much. Don't make anyone uncomfortable. Change colors until you blend in. Become fluent in everyone else.
But standing there recently, feeling that familiar wall go up again, something different happened. I noticed it. Of course I noticed it. Growth hasn't made me oblivious. It just stopped making everything my responsibility.
For a second, I wondered why. And then another thought came: I don't need to know.
Maybe she doesn't like me.
Okay.
Maybe someone told her something about me.
Okay.
Maybe my personality isn't her cup of tea.
Okay.
Maybe she's dealing with something I know absolutely nothing about.
Okay.
Maybe there's no reason at all.
Also okay.
Because none of those things require me to become somebody different.
And THAT is new for me.
I Can Be Kind Without Being Chosen
I think somewhere along the way I confused kindness with earning acceptance.
If I was nice enough, helpful enough, funny enough, accommodating enough, eventually everyone would like me. And when someone didn't? I assumed I had failed. But that's not kindness. That's performing.
Real kindness doesn't require a return on investment.
I can smile at you because that's the woman I want to be.
I can say hello.
I can include you.
I can speak when we're standing together.
I can choose not to make another woman feel invisible.
Because someone else's behavior doesn't get to determine my character.
But I also don't have to keep knocking on a door someone clearly isn't interested in opening.
I don't have to chase you.
I don't have to convince you that I'm worth knowing.
And I don't have to change colors, hoping I'll eventually stumble onto one you like.
I can simply think:
Okay. And move on.
No drama.
No anger.
No talking badly about her.
No recruiting other people to validate that I'm right and she's wrong.
Just... move on.
Honestly, that might be one of the biggest signs of growth I've seen in myself.
Because there was a time when someone's unwillingness to know me would have become evidence that something was wrong with me.
Now?
It's simply information. We're probably not going to be friends.
And that's okay.
“Real kindness doesn't require a return on investment.”
Not Every Person Has to Be Your Person
There are people who will make room for you.
Women who will scoot over. People who will laugh with you before you even finish the story. People who will ask questions because they actually want to hear your answer. People who won't require you to shrink yourself before they'll feel comfortable around you. And there will also be people who don't.
Maybe part of growing up is realizing both can exist without either one defining you.
I'm not everyone's person. Everyone isn't mine. And I don't think God ever asked me to spend my life trying to make that untrue.
He asked me to love people.
He asked me to be kind.
He asked me to guard my heart.
He asked me to become more like Him.
He never asked me to become whatever version of myself would make every person I encounter approve of me.
There's a difference. And I'm finally learning it.
I can love you without chasing you.
I can be kind without being included.
I can smile without getting one back.
I can walk into a room, notice that someone doesn't particularly care for me, and still remain exactly who I was when I walked through the door.
No color change required.
I’m Not Changing Colors Anymore
Maybe that's the lesson God was showing me in something so small. Growing doesn't mean I stop noticing when someone doesn't like me.
Growing means I stop letting it decide who I'm going to be.
That's a big difference for someone who spent years becoming fluent in everyone else. I'm learning that not every uncomfortable interaction requires an investigation.
Not every silence requires an explanation.
Not every person who doesn't choose me requires me to ask what's wrong with me.
Sometimes the answer really can be: Nothing.
Sometimes two people just aren't going to connect.
Sometimes someone has already decided they aren't interested.
Sometimes you'll never know why.
And maybe freedom is being okay with not knowing.
So I'll keep being kind. I'll keep saying hello. I'll keep making room for people.
I'll keep being the woman I believe God has called me to be. But I'm done auditioning for a place in someone's life.
If you want to know me, wonderful.
If you don't? That's okay too.
I genuinely wish you well. But I'm not changing colors for you.
Not anymore.
The Stake Might Not Be Holding You Anymore
Maybe that's where you are too. Maybe there is something you've believed about yourself for so long that you've never considered questioning it.
You aren't capable.
You're too old.
You're too young.
You're not educated enough.
You missed your opportunity.
You're too emotional.
You're not disciplined enough.
Someone else could do it better.
Your past disqualifies you.
People like you don't do things like that.
Maybe someone said it to you years ago, maybe life made you believe it, maybe you decided it after a rejection, a failure, a relationship, a season when you really weren't ready, and maybe it even was true once. That's the part I think about when I picture that elephant.
There are things I couldn't have handled twenty years ago that I can handle now.
There are things I wasn't ready for then.
There are things God still needed to teach me.
There were doors that probably needed to remain closed.
But I am not the same woman I was twenty years ago; neither are you. Growth changes things, God changes things, time changes things, wisdom changes things. So perhaps the question isn't only, What held me here?
It's: Does it still?
Reflection
Maybe you've done this too. Maybe you've walked away from a conversation and immediately started replaying it.
Was I too much?
Did I say something wrong?
Why doesn't she like me?
What could I do differently next time?
Before you start changing colors, stop and ask yourself:
Did I actually do something that requires reflection, accountability, or an apology—or am I simply uncomfortable because someone didn't choose me?
Those are two very different things.
Growth doesn't mean we stop examining ourselves. Sometimes we do get it wrong. Sometimes God needs to humble us, soften us, or show us where we could have loved someone better. But growth also means we stop assuming every person's reaction to us is evidence that something needs to be fixed.
So maybe today the question isn't:
Why don't they like me?
Maybe it's:
Can I let them not like me and still be who God created me to be?
Can I stay kind without chasing?
Can I stay soft without shrinking?
Can I make room for others without begging for a seat at their table?
Can I walk away without resentment—and without taking a piece of myself apart on the way out?
You don't have to change colors every time someone doesn't choose yours.
Sometimes you can simply smile, wish them well, and keep walking.
A Conversation with God
God,
I’d like to tell You that this doesn’t bother me at all. That I’ve grown so much that I don’t even notice when someone doesn’t seem to like me. But You know me better than that. I notice; of course I notice. And there’s still a part of me that wants to ask, Why? What did I do? Did I say something? Did someone tell her something about me? Is there something about me she just doesn’t like? And there I go again. Looking at myself for something to change.
God, I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve spent too many years changing colors depending on the room I was standing in. I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out how to make people comfortable with me. Too much time wondering whether I was too loud, too opinionated, too emotional, too much of something—or somehow still not enough. I don't want someone's silence to have that kind of power over me anymore.
Help me remember that I can notice without absorbing it. I can feel the awkwardness without making it mean something about my worth. I can wonder why without needing an answer. And God, please don't let my growth make me hard either. I don't want to become the person who says, Fine. If you don't like me, I don't like you. That's not who I want to be. Help me still smile. Help me still say hello. Help me still make room. Help me be kind even when kindness isn't returned. But also help me know when it's okay to stop trying so hard.
Remind me that loving people doesn't mean chasing their acceptance. I don't need everyone to choose me. I don't need every person to understand me. And I certainly don't need to change who You created me to be just to make someone else more comfortable.
So if someone doesn't want to know me, help me let that be okay. No resentment.No gossip. No obsessing over why. No changing colors. Just grace. For her. And for me.
I'm learning, God. I'm learning that I can be a good-hearted woman without being everyone's woman. I'm learning that rejection doesn't always require a response.
Sometimes I can simply keep walking.
Still kind.
Still soft.
Still me.
Amen.
Keep Walking With Me
I've spent a lot of my life learning other people—their emotions, expectations, reactions, and opinions. I'm only now realizing how many of those voices followed me home and eventually became my own.
That's part of what I'm writing about in Fluent in Everyone Else. Not becoming fearless, not deciding nobody else's opinion matters, but learning to recognize which voices have earned the right to shape me—and which ones never belonged there in the first place.
I'm still figuring some of this out. If you are too, keep walking with me.
Hi, I'm Carla.
For forty years, I learned, everyone else. Now I'm learning who God created me to be—and helping others do the same. Through honest stories, biblical truth, and practical encouragement, I hope that you'll discover the freedom to love deeply without losing yourself.
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