Living Rent-Free in My Head

Jan. 8, 2026

The eviction was long overdue.

There’s an old saying about allowing someone to live rent-free in your head.

It’s a rather amusing expression when you think about it. Someone makes you angry, treats you unfairly, or does something you believe is wrong, and long after the encounter is over, they’re still occupying your thoughts.

You replay conversations. You imagine what you should have said. You anticipate what they might do next. You spend hours thinking about how to make things right.

Meanwhile, they’re possibly going about their lives without giving you a second thought.

And you’re providing free accommodations.

There’s another saying, often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, although its origin is uncertain:

“I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.”

I’ve always loved that image.

Unfortunately, for quite a while, I allowed someone to do exactly that. And not only did I let them track mud through my mind, I practically handed them the keys.

When Justice Becomes a Full-Time Job

I’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong. I have a particularly difficult time accepting injustice when it comes from people in positions of authority.

When I encounter something I believe is wrong, my instinct is to do something about it.

I research. I ask questions. I read laws and court decisions. I write letters. I challenge explanations that don’t make sense.

And I keep going because somewhere in the back of my mind is the belief that surely, eventually, someone will listen.

Surely, if I present enough evidence, explain things clearly enough, or find the right person in authority, someone will recognize the problem and do something about it.

For several years, that belief consumed far too much of my life.

I spent countless hours researching, writing, documenting, and trying to convince people to address what I believed were clear injustices.

And when nothing changed, I tried harder.

There was always another letter to write, another official to contact, another statute to research, another argument to make.

Until one day I realized something.

I was spending more time fighting for the life I wanted than actually living it.

The Decision to Walk Away

Many months ago, I made a decision.

I was finished.

Not because the problems had been resolved. They hadn’t.

Not because I had changed my mind about what was right or wrong. I hadn’t.

And certainly not because I believed the people responsible had suddenly become reasonable.

I simply realized that I had done everything I reasonably could, and continuing to fight was accomplishing very little beyond making me miserable.

The injustices would continue whether I spent another hundred hours researching them or not.

They would continue whether I wrote another dozen letters or not.

They might continue no matter how many officials, agencies, attorneys, or legislators I brought them to.

That was a difficult thing to accept.

But it was also strangely liberating.

I finally understood that recognizing an injustice does not obligate me to spend the rest of my life trying to correct it.

Some things are simply beyond my control.

And I had allowed one of those things to take control of far too much of my life.

What Happened When I Stopped

Something rather wonderful happened after I made that decision. After I left the entire issue with somebody else. (Somebody who was not personally invested with it).

My life got better.

Not because the outside circumstances changed. In many respects, they didn’t.

But I changed where I directed my attention.

Instead of spending evenings researching laws and composing letters, I spent more time working on my nursery.

And the nursery grew.

There were plants to propagate, trees to pot, customers to help, and plans to make. There were successes, failures, experiments, and all the ordinary challenges of building something from the ground up.

But even the frustrating parts were satisfying, because I was putting my energy into something I loved.

However, far more importantly-I spent more time with my dogs- My loved ones.

More time enjoying the little moments that are so easy to overlook when your mind is occupied with anger and frustration.

More time simply being present.

I began to realize how much of my life I had been giving away to people and circumstances that brought me absolutely no happiness.

And I wondered why I had allowed it to go on for so long.

Then Life Reminded Me What Really Matters

During this same period, I lost a couple of loved ones who were very close to me.

And those losses hit hard.

Death has a way of putting things into perspective that very little else can.

Suddenly, all those arguments, disputes, letters, and battles over who was right and who was wrong seemed terribly insignificant.

Not because the underlying issues had become any less important in principle.

But because those we love are not going to be here forever.

Neither are we.

There are no guarantees about how much time we have left with those who make our lives worth living.

And there is no way to get that time back once it’s gone.

I thought about the hours I had spent worrying about what someone else might do next. The evenings I had devoted to researching another legal question. The mental energy I had spent being angry at the injustice and abuses of power.

Those were hours I could have spent with my family.

With my dogs.

With the people and animals who love me and depend on me.

My dogs don’t care whether I win an argument with a government official. They don’t care whether I can quote a statute or prove that someone has exceeded their authority.

They care that I’m there.

They want a little attention, a walk, a comfortable place to sleep, and someone who loves them.

And someday, when they’re no longer here, I won’t wish I had spent more time writing letters.

I’ll wish I had spent more time with them.

That realization changed something in me.

Nothing is more important than my family.

Nothing is more important than my fur kids.

Certainly not a dispute with people whose behavior I cannot control.

Being Right Isn’t Everything

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that being right doesn’t guarantee justice.

You can have the facts. You can have the documents. You can have what you believe is a perfectly sound legal argument.

And still, nothing may happen.

The people who have the authority to intervene may choose not to. They may disagree with you. They may have other priorities. They may simply do nothing.

And you can spend years trying to change that.

I did.

But I eventually had to ask myself what I was actually accomplishing.

Was I making the situation better?

Or was I simply allowing it to make my life worse?

I realized I could continue fighting indefinitely without ever getting the outcome I wanted.

And the people I was fighting would still have taken something valuable from me.

My time.

My peace of mind.

My enjoyment of my own life.

At some point, the price of pursuing justice had become greater than I was willing to pay.

The Injustice Didn’t End. My Participation Did.

The problems I walked away from didn’t magically disappear.

As far as I know, many of the same things are still happening.

There are still decisions I disagree with. There are still actions I believe are wrong. There are still people exercising authority in ways I question.

But I’ve stopped treating every new development as something that requires my attention.

I no longer feel obligated to research every issue, challenge every decision, or anticipate every possible problem.

If something happens that directly requires me to protect my property or my rights, I’ll deal with it.

I don’t need to convince everyone else to care.

And I don’t need to carry the responsibility for correcting problems that other people have the authority—and the opportunity—to address themselves.

I have done my part.

Whether anyone else chooses to do theirs is no longer something I’m willing to lose sleep over.

No More Dirty Feet

Looking back, I wish I had made this decision sooner. There is a particular loss in my life that brings tears every time I think of it. I miss him every day.

I wish I could reclaim some of those evenings, weekends, and countless hours spent thinking about people who contributed nothing positive to my life.

But I can’t.

What I can do is protect the time I have left.

These days, there are far more interesting things occupying my thoughts.

What should I propagate next? How can I improve the nursery? What should I plant in the spring? And more importantly, what can I do to make life a little better for my dogs?

There are books I want to write, projects I want to finish, and places I want to explore.

And there are those I want to spend as much time with as possible while I still can.

Every one of those things deserves more of my attention than an ongoing dispute that I cannot single-handedly resolve.

I still believe in standing up for what’s right.

I still believe that people in positions of authority should be held accountable.

And I still believe that injustice should be challenged.

But I’ve learned that I don’t have to be the person who challenges every injustice, every time, at any cost.

My life is too short for that.

So quite a while ago, I served an eviction notice to the people who had been living rent-free in my head. I gave the position of landlord to somebody else.

They may still be out there doing whatever it is they do.

But they’re no longer welcome to occupy my thoughts.

And the remarkable thing is how much happier life has become without them.

The greatest victory wasn’t changing their behavior. It was finally refusing to let their behavior control my happiness.

No more free rent.

No more dirty footprints.

I have a wonderful life to live.

And I’m living it.