Blogalot

It started with laughter, the kind that isn’t loud, but shows that it’s a laugh on you.

During basketball coaching, my classmate began making covert jokes at me. Nothing obvious or visible. Just a quiet snicker, a sideways glance, a whispered comment masked as harmless banter. But I knew the target was me. He knew I knew.

I felt the slow burn of humiliation rise in my chest. Every instinct screamed for release. A sharp comeback. A knowing glare. An open challenge. Something that would shut it down and show him I wasn’t to be toyed with. An angry voiced raged within me “Make him pay.” Revenge buzzed fiercely in my head. It promised justice in a flash, silence, calm and my peace in its wake.

Let’s admit it, anger offers a strange sense of power. Revenge has a satisfying rhythm that feels righteous. In the heat of it, retaliation looks like justice and silence feels like surrender. But that day, I didn’t give in. I didn’t lash out at him. I didn’t let that awful moment pull me under. I paused!

Not because I wasn’t angry, I was in-fact raging. But because somewhere, beyond the instinct to defend, I felt the hidden value of that pause. It wasn’t just hesitation but a space which I made between by feelings and actions. A space where I could let the initial surge pass, where my thoughts could reassemble themselves and where my pride and self worth could breathe without panic. In that pause, my emotions didn’t vanish, but my clarity of thought returned.

That small moment gave my pragmatic self a chance to speak for the first time since the whole deluge of angry feelings for revenge had swept over me. It reminded me that responding doesn’t mean giving up, it means taking back control. It means making a choice, not being driven by someone else.

There’s a profound difference between reacting and responding. Reacting is emotional reflex, quick, raw, irrational and often regretted. Responding is rational, intentional, well thought out, well planned and executed. It allows time for thought, for sanity, for strategy. Emotional intelligence isn’t about not feeling angry or revengeful. It’s about understanding it, managing it and using it with purpose rather than letting it use you.

Instead of snapping back at the classmate who mocked me, I chose the quieter, more difficult path, I ignored him completely. At first, it felt like I was letting him win. But over time, something shifted. The more I stopped reacting, the less satisfaction he got from trying to annoy me. He was performing for a reaction, and I gave him none.

In this silence something became clear to me, something I might have missed had I reacted too quickly. People who resort to sly comments or quiet mockery often do so not from strength, but from their own insecurity. Deep down, they sense they cannot match your effort, your growth or your potential. And so, instead of rising to meet it, they try to pull you down to their level. Their words are not invitations to engage in healthy competition, they are traps. They bait you into reacting, hoping your anger will overshadow your ability. That way, they don’t have to compete with your progress, they only have to point at your outburst and emotional weaknesses.

But in decision to respond instead of reacting, I saw through it. I understood that reacting would hand them exactly what they wanted. The pause gave me perspective and the clarity to choose differently. At the same time, I poured my energy into improving my skill at basketball. Day by day, practice by practice, I grew stronger. I soon outshone everyone in the class.

And then came sports day. I was adjudged the best player on our team. I received my award in front of everyone, including him. I looked past him that day, just as I had all along. And that—that was real satisfaction. Not loud, not public, but permanent.