Last week, I saw a video on social media that inspired me to reflect on uncomfortable human interactions (like the one with my grumpy neighbor about burning sage)—moments where someone was clearly living in their own stinky little reality and trying to drag me into it.
You know the type: Unexpected tension, a weird vibe, maybe even a subtle jab that leaves you wondering, What the fuck even just happened?
And then it hit me: it’s Skunk Energy.
Sometimes, people come at you with it.
They feel threatened, triggered, insecure—and so they spray. It’s instinct. It’s survival. It’s also undeniably stinky.
And even though you didn’t do anything to deserve it, you’re suddenly the one walking around reeking, wondering if you did something wrong.
But here’s the thing: It’s not your stink. Just because someone unloaded their emotional funk in your direction doesn’t mean it belongs to you.
Skunks literally spray from their butts. They can twist their bodies, take aim like a sniper, and nail you from up to 15 feet away. It’s not personal—it’s just defense.
But once you’ve been hit, good luck forgetting about it. That’s what makes “Skunk energy” such a perfect term for the mood sludge people sometimes fling at you when they’re scared or spiraling. It’s sudden, aggressive, and way harder to wash off than it should be.
It’s easy to internalize someone else’s spray. Maybe they snapped at you. Maybe they gave you that look—the one loaded with judgment or disappointment. Maybe their energy just felt…off. Heavy. Icky.
Suddenly, you’re the one carrying it, turning it over in your head, trying to find the part of it that’s your fault.
But again: Not your stink.
The truth is, we all walk through life brushing up against people in various stages of their own unraveling. Some folks carry unhealed wounds like landmines. Others are just having a day. And when they explode—or leak—you might catch some of it. That’s human. But it doesn’t mean you have to hold it.
This is where the practice of putting it down comes in.
When you recognize that something doesn’t belong to you—whether its blame, tension, guilt, or someone’s unresolved shit—you get to make a choice. You can carry it. Absorb it. Let it marinate in your nervous system. Or you can take a deep breath, name it (There it is: Skunk Energy), and gently, intentionally… put it down.
Walk away from it like the grocery cart with the squeaky wheel and weird sticky handle.
Throw it in the hamper like the sweater you wore when you ordered the sizzlin’ fajitas.
Put it down like you value your own peace more than you value figuring out why someone else lost theirs.
Practical Tips for Putting Down Skunk Energy
- Name it.
Sometimes the simple act of labeling what’s happening is enough to shift it. “That wasn’t mine. That was skunk energy.” Say it out loud if you have to. It creates distance between you and the spray. - Don’t personalize other people’s projections.
Easier said than done, but try this mantra: “Just because it hit me doesn’t mean it was aimed at me.” Most of the time, people are reacting to their own inner mess. You’re just the nearest target. - Breathe it out. Literally.
A few slow, deep exhales—like you’re fogging up a mirror—can help your nervous system reset. Skunk spray doesn’t evaporate on its own. You have to release it. - Shake it off.
Movement helps. Dance. Stretch. Shake your arms like you’re flinging off the bad vibes. Burn sage. This isn’t just woo—your body stores energy, and you can help it move through. - Call your energy back.
Imagine your energy like little sparks or threads that got scattered. Take a minute to visualize them returning to you. Gather them. Reclaim your peace.
Ask yourself:
- “What have I been carrying that doesn’t actually belong to me?”
- “Whose energy am I still holding in my body, my thoughts, and my reactions?”
- “What would it feel like to set it down—not explain it, not fix it, just set it down?”
Maybe it’s time.
Let them spray.
Let them stew.
Let them fling their chaos into the room and call it truth.
You don’t have to absorb it. You don’t have to wrestle with it.
You are not the poo-pourri for someone else’s stinky digestive flatulence.
There is a version of you that walks away clean.
That shrugs off the residue.
That closes your eyes, breathes in your own stillness, and whispers,
Not my stink. Not my story. Not today.
