Why I’m No Longer the Chill Girl

The Rise of the Chill Girl (and Her Glorious Downfall)

Once upon a time, I was the chill girl. You know the type. Laid-back. Low maintenance. The human equivalent of a deep sigh and a shoulder shrug. I prided myself on not being “that” person. I let things slide, I didn’t nag, I didn’t push, I didn’t demand. And I thought this made me the dream. The fantasy. The one they’d tell their mates about, all wide-eyed and grateful: “She’s just so chill, bro.”

Except I wasn’t chill. I was repressed, swallowing rage in the name of likeability. I was turning myself inside out to avoid confrontation and somehow convinced myself that keeping the peace was more important than being heard. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

And let’s be real, I wasn’t fooling anyone. That low-key resentment had to go somewhere, and baby, it came out in all the worst ways. Passive aggression? Check. Withholding affection? Oh yes. Mysteriously cold texts that said “it’s fine” but actually meant “you’ve ruined my life, Craig”? You bet.

The Wake-Up Call That Came in the Form of a Breakup

Here’s the thing: my last relationship might not have gone down in flames if I had just stopped being so bloody chill. I stayed quiet when I should’ve spoken up, letting things slide when I should’ve drawn a line. I was so busy being breezy and nonchalant that I forgot to be honest. To be real. To say, “Oi, that actually hurt my feelings, and I’d like to talk about it without making it weird.”

Instead, I wore the cool-girl costume right up until the credits rolled. And when it ended, I told myself it was his fault. Which, like, partially true. But also? I let him get away with a lot. Because I thought if I made things easy for him, he’d love me more. What actually happened is he didn’t even know who I really was. I was performing.

The end of that relationship was a turning point. A glorious, fire-breathing, wine-fuelled turning point. I looked at the emotional rubble, shrugged off the ashes of my chill persona, and said, “Well, that didn’t work, did it?” And something inside me clicked – I didn’t want to be cool anymore. I wanted to be seen.

Enter: The Unchill Era

I’m not chill anymore. Loud? Yes. Opiniated? Hell yeah. Now, I tell my ex-boyfriend-turned-bestie when he’s being a gaslighting little toad. I don’t sit in silence and seethe, instead I say, “You’re stonewalling me and it’s not cute. Try again.” And I may or may not tell him if he ever dates someone else, I will throw hands. Possibly knives. Theatrically, of course. Not fatally. Probably.

And you know what? We’re the happiest we’ve ever been. Our friendship works because I’m not pretending anymore. There are no weird, silent battles being fought beneath a blanket of fake zen. I say what I mean. I mean what I say. He still doesn’t know I’m going to marry him, but hey, let’s not ruin the surprise. Not so chill now, am I?

Being unchill doesn’t mean being dramatic or volatile. It means being honest, refusing to dim yourself to fit into someone else’s comfort zone. And it means holding space for your needs, even if it makes things awkward. Because if someone can’t handle your humanity, they don’t deserve your peace.

I Wasn’t Chill, I Was Trained

Looking back, I realise I was never naturally chill. I was trained to be. Trained by the world to be agreeable. To be nice. To be easy to love. Or… to smooth things over rather than face confontation. I internalised the idea that being chill was the path to being chosen. And the wild thing is, I was chosen. But not for the right reasons.

I was the placeholder girl. The girl before the real one. The one who doesn’t cause a fuss, doesn’t make demands, doesn’t ask too many questions. The girl who quietly waits for someone to change, even though she knows deep down they probably won’t. Being chill got me exactly nowhere.

Turns out, being loved for a version of yourself that’s been watered down isn’t love at all. It’s just convenience. And I deserve more than that. We all do. I want to be loved for the full, unfiltered, occasionally feral version of me. The one who will absolutely cry if you disrespect her but also bring you crisps and rub your back because she’s thoughtful and spicy.

Boundaries Are My Love Language

The biggest change since ditching the chill girl act? Boundaries. Glorious, sacred, non-negotiable boundaries. I used to think boundaries were walls. Now I know they’re bridges. Bridges that lead people directly to the real me. The me who says no. The me who says, “That doesn’t work for me.” The me who doesn’t apologise for needing what she needs.

Boundaries are love. They’re self-respect in action. And funnily enough, the people who love you properly won’t be offended by them. In fact, they’ll thank you. They’ll feel safer. More connected. More seen. Because the realest love comes from knowing where the edges are and still choosing to stay.

My bestie (you know, the one I’ll marry someday if he behaves) knows now where my edges are. And our connection is better for it. No mind-reading, resentful silences, or pretending. Just two people showing up with their full selves, chaos and all.

Sorry I ruined your fantasy by having a personality.

You Can’t Heal Where You’re Pretending

Being chill kept me in relationships that should’ve ended years earlier. It kept me in rooms I didn’t belong in, conversations I didn’t enjoy, dynamics that drained the soul out of me. I stayed because I didn’t want to cause a scene. I didn’t want to be the villain. But eventually, I became the ghost.

I ghosted my own needs. My own desires. My own voice. And healing from that has been messy and beautiful and entirely worth it. Because now? Now I’m the kind of woman who does cause a scene. A kind, necessary scene. The sort of scene that sets you free.

So no, I’m not chill anymore. But I am bold. I am loud. Soft in the places that matter and sharp where it counts. I’m the friend who will call you out lovingly but with precision. I am allergic to fake peace. I choose real connection. Even if it’s messy and makes people uncomfortable. And even if it means I have to be the bad guy for a little while.

Because being the bad guy for choosing yourself? That’s actually the most heroic thing you can do.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit  BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG  @BryJaimea

1. We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency 11:56
2. The Wine Aunt Manifesto 16:21
3. Who Said Anything About a Crisis? 13:07

Check Out My Other Forms