Reflections on Game Players and Inner Strength
Photography has always been a quiet refuge for me, a way to capture the world as I see it—simple, real, and full of light. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how the lens of a camera can teach us something deeper about life. It frames what matters and leaves the rest out of focus. That’s a lesson I’ve been applying beyond the shutter, especially when it comes to dealing with people who stir up trouble for no good reason. Today, I want to share some thoughts on what I call "game players"—those individuals who, whether on purpose or by accident, seem to thrive on causing harm or grabbing attention at others’ expense. Through my own experiences, I’ve found a way to handle them that’s surprisingly simple: ignore them, wish them well, and keep moving forward. It’s not always easy, but it works.
This isn’t about grand revelations or complicated strategies. It’s about the small, everyday choices that help us stay grounded. Between the comfort of my mom’s cooking, the endless chatter of my little one, and the support of family and friends who really get me, I’ve learned what it means to protect my peace. Photography, much like life, is about finding the beauty in the chaos—and sometimes that means stepping back from the noise altogether. Let’s talk about how I’ve navigated these situations, and maybe it’ll resonate with you too.
The Reality of Game Players
We’ve all met them at some point—people who seem to get a kick out of pushing buttons, stirring drama, or dragging others down. Maybe it’s a coworker who gossips just to feel important, a friend who always has to one-up you, or even a stranger online who leaves snarky comments for no reason. I used to think of them as villains, but over time, I’ve realized it’s not that simple. Some don’t even know they’re doing it. Others are wrestling with stuff we can’t see— insecurities, loneliness, or just a need to feel in control. Whatever drives them, the effect is the same: they pull you into their game if you let them.
I remember a time a few years back when I got tangled up with someone like this. She was a friend—or so I thought—who had a habit of making little digs disguised as jokes. At first, I laughed it off, thinking she didn’t mean any harm. But the comments kept coming, sharper each time, until I started dreading our conversations. I’d leave feeling small, second-guessing myself, wondering what I’d done wrong. It took me a while to see it for what it was: a game. She wasn’t happy unless she had the upper hand, and I was handing it to her every time I reacted.
That’s the thing about game players—they need an audience. Whether it’s attention, a reaction, or a fight, they’re looking for something to keep the cycle going. And the more you play along, the more you lose sight of yourself. I didn’t want that anymore. So I decided to try something different: I stopped engaging.
The Power of Ignoring
Ignoring someone who’s trying to get under your skin sounds basic, almost too obvious to work. But trust me, it’s harder than it seems—and more effective than I ever expected. Walking away from a jab or letting a rude remark hang in the air takes effort. Your first instinct might be to fire back, to defend yourself, or to prove a point. I’ve been there, drafting witty comebacks in my head or venting to a friend about how unfair it all was. But every time I gave in, I’d end up feeling worse, not better. The game player got their win, and I lost my calm.
When I started ignoring instead, things shifted. With that friend, I stopped responding to the digs. I’d change the subject, keep my tone light, or just let silence do the talking. It wasn’t about being passive-aggressive or holding a grudge—it was about choosing not to fuel the fire. And you know what? She backed off. Not right away, but over time, the jabs got fewer and farther between. I think she realized I wasn’t playing anymore, and without my reaction, the game wasn’t fun.
It’s not foolproof, of course. Some people double down when you don’t take the bait. But even then, ignoring works because it protects you. You’re not handing over your energy to someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’ve used this approach in other situations too—like with a neighbor who loved complaining about everything I did, from how I parked my car to the flowers I planted. I’d nod, say something vague like “I’ll look into it,” and go about my day. Eventually, he found someone else to bother. My peace stayed intact, and that’s what mattered.
Wishing Them Well
Here’s where it gets a little trickier: letting go of the anger. When someone’s trying to hurt you, it’s natural to feel resentment. I’d catch myself replaying those old conversations with my friend, getting mad all over again. But holding onto that didn’t fix anything—it just kept me stuck. So I started thinking about why she acted that way. Maybe she felt insecure around me, or maybe she was dealing with something tough and didn’t know how to handle it. I’ll never know for sure, and honestly, I don’t need to. What helped was deciding to wish her well, even if I never said it out loud.
This isn’t about excusing bad behavior or pretending it doesn’t sting. It’s about seeing game players as human, not just as problems to solve. When I look at it that way, I can let go of the need to “win” or prove I’m right. They’re caught up in their own struggles, and that’s punishment enough. By wishing them well, I’m not saying they’re off the hook—I’m just choosing not to carry their baggage. It’s freeing, in a way. You stop seeing them as a threat and start seeing them as someone who’s probably hurting more than you are.
I’ve tried this with other people too. There was a guy I worked with once who’d take credit for my ideas in meetings. It drove me up the wall until I stepped back and thought, “Okay, if he needs this that badly, let him have it.” I kept doing my job, stayed polite, and didn’t waste energy fighting him. Funny enough, other people started noticing who was really doing the work. I didn’t have to say a word.
Rising Above the Noise
There’s this idea that staying quiet or walking away makes you weak, like you’re letting someone get the better of you. I used to think that too. If someone came at me, I felt like I had to push back or I’d lose respect. But reacting to every slight doesn’t make you strong—it just wears you out. Real strength is keeping your cool when everything’s telling you to snap. It’s knowing your worth doesn’t depend on what someone else says or does.
I’ve seen this play out in small moments. Last month, I was at a coffee shop, and the guy in line behind me was rude to the barista—snapping about how slow she was, even though she was clearly doing her best. I could’ve said something, but instead, I just smiled at her, tipped extra, and went on with my day. He didn’t get the fight he was looking for, and I didn’t let his attitude ruin my morning. That’s what rising above looks like—it’s not loud or showy, but it feels good.
Photography ties into this for me. When I’m behind the camera, I’m not trying to control everything in the frame. I’m looking for what’s already there—the light, the shadows, the way things fall into place. Life’s the same way. You don’t have to force every situation to bend your way. Sometimes you just focus on what’s worth seeing and let the rest blur out.
Keeping Your Class
There’s something powerful about handling tough moments with grace. It’s not about being perfect or pretending you’re above it all—it’s about knowing who you are and sticking to it. When that friend kept needling me, I could’ve stooped to her level, thrown some shade back, and called it a day. But that’s not me. I’d rather keep my head up and let my actions speak for themselves. People notice that. Not always right away, but they do.
I think of my mom in moments like this. She’s the kind of person who never raises her voice, even when she’s upset. Growing up, I’d watch her deal with pushy salespeople or grumpy neighbors, and she’d always stay calm, polite, firm. It wasn’t weakness—it was class. She didn’t need to yell to make her point. I try to carry that with me, especially when life throws curveballs. Staying steady doesn’t just keep you sane; it sets you apart.
A Moment of Gratitude
As I write this, I’m sitting in a part of the world where the chill of winter is starting to fade. The air’s still crisp, but I can ditch the heavy jackets for something lighter. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a gift. My little one’s tugging at my sleeve, asking for another snack, and I can smell my mom’s cooking drifting in from the kitchen. These are the pieces of life that matter—the ones that keep me grounded no matter what’s going on outside.
Jessica Prautzsch’s photography captures that simplicity too. Her images are clean, bright, full of space. They remind me to look for the good stuff—the way sunlight hits a wall, the quiet of an empty street. In a world where game players try to drag us into their mess, her work is a nudge to step back and breathe. That’s what I hope you take from this too. You don’t have to play every game you’re invited to. You can ignore, wish them well, and rise above. Your peace is worth it.
Wrapping It Up
Dealing with people who thrive on negativity isn’t fun, but it doesn’t have to define you. I’ve learned that the hard way, through trial and error, and a lot of deep breaths. Ignoring them isn’t about giving up—it’s about choosing yourself. Wishing them well isn’t naive—it’s a way to let go. And rising above? That’s where the real strength lies. It’s not loud or dramatic, but it’s yours.
Next time you’re faced with a game player, try it out. Step back, focus on what matters, and keep your cool. You might be surprised how much lighter you feel. For me, it’s a work in progress, but every day I get a little better at it. And with a camera in hand, I’ve got a reminder to keep looking for the light—no matter what’s in the shadows.