If a coworker keeps belittling you, talking over you or speaking for you, and you replay it for hours at night, you’re not overreacting. This is how I calmly stood up to a condescending colleague, with ADHD, C-PTSD and a childhood of bullying in the background. It covers how I set a boundary at work, told my manager, documented it, and finally gave my overthinking somewhere to stop. Whether this is your first job or you’re twenty years into your career, I hope it helps.
How childhood bullying shapes you as an adult
I was bullied as a child, and for a long time I thought that was a closed chapter. It wasn’t. How I understood it then and how I understand it now are two very different things, and the distance between them is a lot of what I’ve been working on in counselling.
As a child, I believed there was something wrong with me. I took the teasing in and treated it as information about who I was: flawed, odd, hard to like. School felt like the whole universe, and there was no way out of the hallway or the playground. The bully seemed huge and all-powerful. What I felt was fear, stomachaches before school, dread and a deep loneliness. I was powerless, dependent on adults who didn’t always notice or know how to step in. The goal was simply to get through the day without becoming a target.
As an adult, I can see it differently. What happened was a reflection of them, not me. School was a small, artificial world, and a temporary one. The children who bullied me were often lacking empathy, maturity or support, and were acting out of their own struggles. The echoes in me are still there, though: people-pleasing, fear of conflict, a body that stays on watch in social settings. But I now have something I didn’t have then, which is choice. I can pick my environments, set boundaries and ask for support.
Feeling powerless at work: identity and childhood bullying
Two themes keep coming up in my sessions: identity and powerlessness.
Childhood bullying made me adapt just to stay safe, and over time those adaptations can start to feel like who you are. I became good at being quiet, agreeable, careful. Part of the work now is separating who I had to be to survive from who I actually am. The harsh labels children take literally can get woven into a self-image, and unlearning them means finding my own values, interests and strengths without bracing for judgement.
Powerlessness is the harder one. As a child I really did have limited power: I couldn’t leave the school, change the people around me or control the environment. But the feeling doesn’t stay in the past. Even now, a confrontation at work, a boundary with a friend or a moment of being excluded can bring back that old sense of being trapped. What I’m learning is that the powerlessness belonged to the child I was. The adult I am now can say no, walk away from disrespect, and choose who gets access to my life.
Noticing and acknowledging your triggers
Two small steps sit underneath all of this, and they come in order.
Noticing is the neutral first step: becoming aware of a thought, feeling or sensation without trying to fix it or push it away. I notice my chest is tight. I notice I’m feeling small in this meeting. I notice a thought that says I don’t have a choice. It puts a little space between me and the reaction.
Acknowledging goes one step further. It means honouring what I noticed instead of dismissing it. I felt helpless as a child, and that was real. It makes sense that I’m triggered, given what I lived through. When I was young, my pain was often minimised (”it’s just teasing”, “get over it”), so acknowledging it now is a way of giving myself the validation I didn’t get.
After those two comes the third step, which is choosing: deciding how to act today as an adult who has options and who is safe. The rest of this piece is about one time I got all the way to that third step.
When a coworker keeps belittling and talking over you
The day started well. Our morning session was brilliant: well organised, with speakers who knew exactly what they were talking about. I remember thinking, this is what a good workplace looks like.
That feeling lasted until the afternoon.
When the “support” session turned into the same old complaining
The second session was set up by a colleague to help us: to support us, enable us and train us. That’s not what it turned into. It became a round of complaints, the same ones I’d heard before, going in circles. The group already has a space for that. Some of the comments about our manager were openly disrespectful, apparently because they were professional and didn’t hand people what they wanted.
I sat there listening, the way I always do. I’d come to be trained, and I wasn’t getting that.
The moment it happened again
A colleague started talking about a piece of work we’re all getting through. She made a dig at me over it, as if she’d warned me. But I hadn’t said I was struggling. Someone else had. If anything, I’m further behind than most, because I have a lot on alongside it. I was simply getting on with it.
That’s when I noticed the pattern I’d been noticing for a long time. She says the opposite of whatever I’ve just said, straight after I’ve said it. She patronises. She belittles. She talks for me, and now she was putting her struggle onto me.
And nobody said anything. Nobody ever does.
The first lesson hit me right there: silence isn’t peace. I’d stayed quiet for so long that she assumed it was permission.
What I said, calmly
So I spoke. Not loudly, and not unkindly:
“You’re invalidating my experience. I’m fine with the process and I’m getting through it. I’m sorry yours has been tough, but that’s not my experience. We’re on two different journeys, and that’s okay.”
She said it was just a fact, that people had struggled. I said that was fine, but I wanted to focus on what I’m doing. I wasn’t rude and I didn’t raise my voice. I just stopped letting her speak for me.
It didn’t feel dramatic. It felt like putting something heavy down.
Talking to your manager and documenting workplace bullying
Afterwards, my manager caught up with me and I was honest. I said we’d had a session set up to help us, and it had turned into the same old thing, with people being unprofessional, and it wasn’t working for me.
I said I’d only join group sessions where a manager is present, and that I’d get help with the training from a colleague who is further ahead.
The second lesson: you’re allowed to choose your rooms. I can’t change how everyone behaves, but I can decide where my energy goes.
Later, once I’d calmed down enough to be precise, I sent my colleague a message. I wanted it polite, professional and work-safe, so I wrote it, reread it, and reworked it. I told her I’d noticed a pattern of talking over me, belittling and patronising, that it was affecting my training and my experience of work, and that I wasn’t willing to accept it. I said I listen to her and respect her, and I expect the same back. I told her I’m managing a lot and don’t need stress or conflict.
I saved a copy with the date.
The third lesson: name the pattern, not just the incident. One comment is easy to wave away. “This keeps happening” is much harder to ignore. And raising it directly first is fair, and it leaves a record.
Can’t stop overthinking after a work conflict? The mental loop
My mind doesn’t let things go easily. I live with ADHD and C-PTSD, and an unresolved situation doesn’t stay in the meeting room. It follows me home and loops. I replay it, rewrite what I should have said, and can’t find where to stop, because the situation has no neat ending. This colleague in particular can consume hours of my day.
I think the two diagnoses feed each other here. With C-PTSD, my brain stays hyper-vigilant and keeps replaying the situation as if solving it would keep me safe. With ADHD, a thought can lock on like a puzzle I have to finish, and switching it off is far harder than wanting to. So there’s a gap I find frustrating: I’m in control of what I do, but not yet of how long my mind keeps going.
That evening, I did the thing I’m proudest of. I got out of the house and went to get some food. After a day like that, I needed to get out of my own head.
How to stop ruminating at night: pick a stopping point
The fourth lesson: you can’t always get resolution, but you can pick a stopping point. Mine was: I spoke up, I told my manager, I sent the message. Everything after that was looping, and I was allowed to stop.
Late that night, the worry arrived, as it does. What if she complains? What if she reacts? What if I’ve done something wrong?
I came back to the facts. I’d been calm, direct and professional. I’d told my manager first. I had a record. Whatever she said next was hers to manage.
I also decided in advance what I’d say if she raised it in front of others: “This isn’t the time or place to discuss grievances. Let’s take it up separately with a manager present.” Then I’d stop talking. I muted the chat, so I could read it when I was rested instead of raw.
None of this made the worry vanish. But it gave the loop an edge, and a plan for the moment it came back.
Why people target you at work: what my counsellor helped me see
When I took all of this to my counsellor, she told me I’m in a different place than I was six months ago. She said I wouldn’t have been able to send that message then, because this colleague triggers me and I spend hours consumed by it. She knew me then, and I value her experienced view.
I’ll admit that part of me thinks I could have sent it. I’d journalled, vented and worked it through first. But I also understand what she means. Journalling and venting are tools I now use and trust, and they are part of why I could act. Both things can be true: I may have had the words, and I wasn’t yet in the head space to use them.
She also offered a way forward on the loop I’m so frustrated by. When a situation like this comes up, we can work on it together, and this colleague is a live example of exactly that. I feel helpless at work too, so it’s the right place to start.
She offered another perspective, too: people tend to pick on those they see as better than them. She sees me as capable and professional, and said that’s often what gets targeted, as a way of bringing someone down to feel how they themselves feel. I find that comforting, and I hold it loosely. I can’t know what’s really in my colleague’s head. My own honest read is simpler: I think it keeps happening because no one has ever said anything. When behaviour goes unchallenged, it becomes normal, and every time the room goes quiet, the message is that it’s fine to carry on.
That doesn’t excuse it. But it changed how I saw the situation. It wasn’t only about her. It was about all of us, and how easy it is to stay silent and hope someone else speaks first.
What I’d tell you if you’re in the same place
Silence isn’t peace.
Unchallenged behaviour becomes normal.
Disrespect doesn’t need a job title. It can come from a peer, and it does as much damage.
“That’s your experience, not mine” is a complete sentence.
Stay calm and factual. Calm is the thing nobody can use against you.
Keep a short, factual log: date, what was said, who was there.
Look after your body afterwards. A spiralling mind needs a change of scene more than more analysis.
Questions to sit with
Whose behaviour have I quietly accepted for too long, and what has my silence taught them?
When I stay quiet, am I keeping the peace or avoiding discomfort?
What would “saying it once, calmly” look like for me?
What’s my stopping point once I’ve said my piece?
Say something, even if you think nothing will change
This is the part I most want you to take away. You may be sure that speaking up won’t change anything: she won’t listen, nobody will back you, it’ll only make things awkward. Say something anyway.
The point isn’t to change them. The point is that you stop teaching people it’s fine. Standing up for yourself, calmly and professionally, is something you do for you. How they react is theirs to manage.
What you can do
Say it once, calmly. Talk about the behaviour, not their character. For example: “I’d like to finish my point.” Or: “That’s not my experience, and I’d like to focus on what I’m doing.”
Tell your manager early. Keep to facts: what happened, when, and how it affected your work.
Put it in writing. Keep it polite and work-safe, name the pattern rather than one incident, and save a dated copy.
Keep a short log. Note the date, what was said and who was there.
Choose your rooms. You can decide which meetings and group chats get your energy.
Decide your stopping point and your line in advance. Know what you’ll say if it comes up again, then stop talking.
Get support. That might be a counsellor, a trusted friend or a workplace advice service. If it continues, or you think it’s harassment or discrimination, take it further through HR or an advice service.
Staying professional isn’t about staying quiet. It’s about being clear, factual and consistent, which is the one thing nobody can use against you.
It needed to be done
I don’t know how she’ll react, and I’ve stopped needing to know.
What I do know is how it felt afterwards. Not triumphant or angry, just lighter. For a long time I carried that behaviour quietly, and putting it down was a relief. I said it calmly, I said it once, and I said it in a way I can stand behind. It needed to be done, and I did it.
I’m proud of that, and not because it was easy. My mind doesn’t let go of things, and the worry still came. I’m proud because I looked after myself and spoke up. I didn’t have to pick one.
If you’re reading this because someone at work keeps belittling you, talking over you, or speaking for you, here’s what I want you to take away:
You’re not too sensitive. You noticed because it’s real.
You don’t have to be loud. Calm, clear and consistent is enough.
You don’t need their approval. Saying it was the point, whatever they do with it.
You can stop when you’ve said it. Your stopping point is allowed.
Looking after yourself afterwards isn’t weakness. It’s part of standing up for yourself.
I can’t promise it will change them. But it changes you. You stop shrinking, you stop waiting for someone else to speak first, and you remember that your experience counts.
So take a breath, be kind to yourself, and go and get some food. You’ve earned it.
And when the moment comes, you’ll know what to say: not with me.
Questions people ask about this
What do you say to a coworker who talks over you?
Keep it calm, short and said once. Mine was: “You’re invalidating my experience. I’m fine with the process and I’m getting through it.” I didn’t raise my voice, and I didn’t explain myself twice.
Should I tell my manager about a coworker who belittles me?
For me, yes. I told my manager first, then sent my colleague a polite written message naming the pattern, and saved a dated copy. A record turns “one comment” into “this keeps happening”.
How do I stop replaying a work conflict at night?
Pick a stopping point, and decide it before the spiral starts. Mine was: I spoke up, I told my manager, I sent the message. Then I left the house, got some food, muted the chat and planned one line to say if it came up again.
Is it normal for childhood bullying to affect me at work?
In my experience, yes. It shows up for me as people-pleasing, fear of conflict and a body that stays on guard. I’m not a clinician, so if this sounds familiar, a counsellor or therapist can help you work through it.
Am I overreacting?
You noticed because it’s real. If it keeps happening, many countries have a free workplace advice service to talk it through with (in the UK, that’s Acas).