In my professional life, the topic of toxicity can often be delicate. If you find yourself experiencing similar behaviors, I encourage you to reach out to someone. For privacy reasons, names have been changed.

It was just another Monday morning, and as I sat in our team meeting, I was only partially paying attention to my colleagues discussing their latest updates. My thoughts were tangled in frustration, fixating on the usual irritations—Sarah’s soft-spoken nature, Marcos’s tardiness, Tom’s misunderstanding of basic instructions, and the frequent interruptions that disrupted my focus.

I was visibly annoyed, and I made no effort to conceal it.

The meeting dragged on, and I found myself rolling my eyes at nearly every comment, sighing under my breath, and crossing my arms in a clear show of contempt. I felt surrounded by incompetence. When someone pitched a new idea, I swiftly highlighted its flaws, often in a tone that left little room for discussion.

My remarks were sharp and tinged with sarcasm, and while I noticed the discomfort in my colleagues’ expressions, I dismissed it as their issue, not mine.

The tension I exuded was almost tangible, acting like an invisible barrier that kept others at bay. I considered myself a straightforward communicator, someone who didn’t sugarcoat their opinions.

I prided myself on my ability to find faults in others, rarely recognizing my role in the team’s difficulties. I believed I was the only one maintaining a clear perspective. When projects faced obstacles, I was quick to shift blame, criticizing others for their perceived shortcomings, all while feeling justified in my approach because I was results-driven.

Despite sensing that my attitude was harmful, I had convinced myself that my high expectations were simply a reflection of my dedication to excellence. After all, isn’t that what we desire in our work?

Unbeknownst to me, I was gradually undermining the trust, safety, and collaboration that our team needed to thrive. In reality, I was using my bluntness as a façade to conceal my insecurities and fears.

But on that particular Monday, everything changed.

As I observed the room, I noticed a pattern I had previously overlooked. Sarah hesitated before speaking, casting nervous glances my way. Marcos appeared exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Tom’s body language was tense, and he avoided making eye contact with me. Other team members seemed to shrink in their seats whenever I entered the room. They were clearly on edge, and the common thread was…

Me.

A chilling realization washed over me, creating a sinking feeling in my stomach.

• Was I the cause of this tension?
• Was I the source of their discomfort?

These thoughts felt like a gut punch, knocking the air from my lungs. In that moment, I recognized how others perceived me—a looming storm cloud overshadowing every interaction. Uncharacteristically, I remained silent for the rest of the day.

Later that night, I lay in bed at 2:30 AM, unable to shake the feeling. I replayed the meeting in my mind, analyzing every word and gesture. A wave of memories from past meetings and team projects flooded back.

It was a painful truth, but it was undeniable: I had become the most toxic person in the room — and I was aware of it. This realization stung deeply, striking at my pride and self-image.

The gravity of my actions began to weigh heavily on me, pressing down like an immovable rock. I felt a profound ache at my core as if a spotlight had illuminated all my flaws and failures. I realized I had been living a deception, convincing myself that I was the victim of others’ incompetence while I was, in fact, the one poisoning the atmosphere.

• How could I have been so oblivious?
• How did I allow myself to become this person?
• Who had I harmed with my behavior?

Today, my coworkers would likely find it hard to believe I was ever that person.

I had become someone others dreaded, stifling creativity and collaboration, and fostering an environment of fear and discomfort. The pain was not merely emotional; it manifested physically as a tightness in my chest and a persistent knot in my back—a burden I carried for years.

That night, I barely slept, worn out by the weight of my thoughts.

As dawn broke, I began to list my past behaviors:

• Constant negativity
• Blame-shifting
• Taking pleasure in others’ failures
• Deflecting responsibility
• Poor communication
• Undermining colleagues
• Resisting change
• Prioritizing my needs over the team’s
• Micromanaging

And there were countless more.

Each item felt like a new weight added to my conscience, but I knew I could no longer hide from them. I recognized how my actions had eroded trust, stifled creativity, and created a toxic atmosphere. This was no longer just about my job or reputation; it was about the people I had harmed, the relationships I had damaged, and the potential I had suppressed.

At 6:00 AM, I stood at a crossroads: one path led to continued denial and destruction, while the other pointed towards painful yet necessary self-improvement and redemption. I could either cling to my stubbornness or take accountability and strive for change.

I chose the latter.

Undoing years of toxic behavior is no small feat.

The morning after my restless night, I went to work with a heavy heart and a renewed resolve. I understood I needed to openly acknowledge my past behavior, starting with my team. I knew this would require introspection.

I didn’t bare my soul on the first day.

Instead, I sought out Sarah, Marcos, and Tom. I approached them cautiously, as humiliation gripped me. I offered my apologies and listened to their experiences, learning about their challenges both at work and outside it. I did my best to convey that I genuinely cared about their success. They seemed taken aback.

Over time, I shifted from leading with an iron fist to speaking with humility. I made an effort to connect with other colleagues, admitted my faults, apologized for the pain I had caused, and expressed my sincere desire to change. During these conversations, they often remained silent, the air heavy with disbelief and cautious optimism. I knew my words alone couldn’t change everything, but they marked a significant step toward redemption.

Each day became a struggle against ingrained habits and reflexive responses.

I had to consciously choose to listen instead of interrupting, to encourage rather than criticize, and to support my colleagues in their pursuits. There were moments of regression, when my old self resurfaced, and I slipped back into familiar patterns of negativity and blame.

Each setback prompted reflection, sleepless nights, and a renewed commitment to improve. I actively sought feedback, asking my coworkers to hold me accountable and call me out when I faltered. Their willingness to support me, despite the hurt I had caused, was both humbling and encouraging.

I’m unsure I deserved their kindness, but I am forever grateful for it.

I am no longer the person I once was.

The invisible barriers I had erected began to crumble, giving way to authentic collaboration and trust. I invested in my personal development by attending workshops on emotional intelligence and conflict resolution, and I sought therapy to address deeper issues. I amassed a collection of books on leadership, compassion, and communication. The more I learned about myself and my impact on others, the more driven I became to continue evolving.

It has taken longer than I care to admit to reach this point.

If you observe me closely, you might catch glimpses of my old habits. Frustration may occasionally overtake me. I might fall silent and give you the cold shoulder. I may even make a sarcastic comment. However, I strive to recognize these moments, apologize, and improve the next time.

• I often make mistakes.
• I understand that negativity breeds negativity.
• Listening is a crucial skill.
• Gossip is toxic.
• I don’t need to be the loudest in the room.
• Empathy is vital.
• Actions have significant consequences.
• High standards do not excuse poor behavior.
• I don’t have all the answers.
• There’s always room for kindness.

Transformation is a gradual process, and it takes years to untangle the mess left by toxicity. I am still a work in progress, but every painful, humbling moment has been worth it. Now, when I step into a new role, my team no longer tiptoes around me. I am learning to lead with empathy, care, and understanding.

I am far from perfect. I still face moments of doubt and struggle, but I am dedicated to mending relationships and fostering a healthier perception of myself. I hope that today, people see me as a kinder, more thoughtful, engaged, and welcoming individual.

By sharing my story, I hope to inspire others to recognize similar patterns in their behavior and take steps toward positive change.

I’ll leave you with this final thought.

If my experience resonates with you, I ask you to take a moment today to reflect on the following question:

• “How do others perceive me?”

Consider this question earnestly and honestly. Be brutally candid. Reflect on how your words and actions affect those around you.

• Are you willing to discover the answer?
• Are you prepared to confront the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be?
• Will you commit to making changes?

Sit with these questions for a while. Don’t sugarcoat your reflections. If you’re ready to confront the answers that arise, you’re already on the path to becoming a better version of yourself.

Thank you for reading! ?

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