You've made yourself small to fit in and you're disappearing
You have spent years making yourself smaller — quieter, less ambitious, less bright, less you — to fit in, to not threaten, to be accepted. And now you have shrunk so far that you are disappearing, losing the self you kept folding away, and you barely recognize the small, muted person you have become.
I know something of making oneself small in a world that demanded it — and of the cost. Hear me. You shrank for a reason, and the reason has outlived its use — you made yourself small because fullness was once punished, a clever survival, but examine whether that danger still holds, for we often go on shrinking long after the ones who demanded it are gone, obeying a rule no one enforces. The world does not need less of you; you were taught it did — ask who taught you your fullness was too much and whether they wished you to flourish, for the demand to be less often serves those it comforts, dressed as a truth about your proper size. And reappear a little at a time, and let the world adjust — speak the swallowed opinion, occupy slightly more room than yesterday, letting each small return teach you that you survive being seen. You were not made too much. Where did you first learn to shrink?
What changes unlock by starting
- You see why you shrank, and whether it still holds
- You reject the demand that you be less
- You reappear a little at a time
- You survive being fully seen