Choosing Myself After Years of Shrinking

Choosing Myself After Years of Shrinking -

This is about the moment you realize staying small no longer feels safe.

There comes a moment in life, often after a long stretch of quiet healing, when something becomes clear. You realize you have spent years shrinking.

Not because you wanted to.

Not because you lacked strength.

But because it once felt safer to stay small than to be fully seen.

For a long time, I believed holding myself back was a form of peacekeeping.

Staying agreeable felt protective. Staying quiet felt easier than risking conflict.

Making myself smaller felt like the price of belonging.

And then, slowly, something shifted.

Where Shrinking Begins

I grew up in an era of be seen, but not heard.

There were moments when I would be laughing with a friend, completely in my joy, only to be told to stop. At the time, those moments seemed insignificant. But they planted something quietly. They taught me when it was acceptable to take up space, and when it was not.

I bring up laughter because I genuinely love to laugh. Over the years, I have noticed that when my laughter fades, it is often a signal. A subtle cue from my body that something is no longer aligned. An unease settles in, reminding me that I have drifted away from myself.

As I got older, I became more aware of judgment and how deeply it shaped the way I moved through the world. One moment that stayed with me was running for student council. I was hopeful, ready to contribute, until I realized it was not about ideas or leadership at all. It was about popularity. I felt embarrassed for even trying, and I carried that moment with me for far too long.

Public speaking became one of my biggest fears. It still challenges me at times, but I am learning to work through it. Progress, not perfection.

High school amplified everything. The opinions, the rumors, the constant feeling of being watched and misunderstood. I graduated early after experiencing bullying and a threatening situation. It was overwhelming, painful, and isolating. So I did what I knew how to do at the time. I hid. I left. I shrank.

Later, in marriage, shrinking became a survival strategy. I minimized my needs to keep the peace. I stayed busy managing everything around me while quietly placing myself last.

The Cost of Staying Small

After my divorce, something began to open. I pushed myself back into the world. I joined ballroom dance, a hiking group, anything that helped me feel alive again while navigating school and raising my children.

Then I entered a chapter where I shrank so much I barely recognized myself. The energy around me felt overwhelming and heavy. Day by day, I grew smaller, unsure how to hold my ground.

That season included years of endurance racing, experiences that pushed me far beyond what I thought I was capable of. I surprised myself again and again, physically and mentally. Yet even in moments of strength, I found myself slowing down, holding back, worrying about how my accomplishments would be perceived.

I remember choosing not to finish first in a race because I did not want to be seen as difficult or uncooperative. Shrinking, even in my strength.

Those years taught me something important. I was capable of far more than I believed, but my fear of being seen was still guiding my choices.

Work became another place where I learned to shrink. At first, I was involved and engaged. Over time, shifts in the environment, lack of respect, and constant noise led me inward. I stayed small, avoided visibility, and focused solely on getting through the day.

Eventually, the pressure became too much. I wrote a seven page resignation letter,

(front and back) 🤣

pouring out everything I had been holding for years. I cried as I read it out loud to my bosses, terrified to use my voice. But when I finished, I exhaled a breath I did not even realize I had been holding.

That moment changed everything.

Choosing Myself

For a long time, I believed validation from others would give me permission to stand taller. But it was never enough.

The turning point came when I realized the validation had to come from me.

The last place I shrank was within myself. After years of loss, responsibility, and survival, I turned inward. I became quieter, more reflective. Long walks and solo hikes became my refuge.

I do not see that season as shrinking anymore. I see it as rebuilding.

Choosing myself has become an ongoing practice. Some days feel fluid and grounded. Other days feel like swimming upstream. But each choice brings me closer to who I am and who I want to be.

There is a phrase that has found its way back into my life, one that feels different now.

I will not lower myself to be understood. But if you want to meet me where I am, I will be here.

And this time, I mean it.

I am choosing differently. I am no longer willing to make myself smaller to keep the peace.

Letting the Lessons Light the Way

Growth rarely happens in isolation. I

t is shaped by the moments that stretch us, the relationships that challenge us, and the friction that asks us to look more closely at who we are becoming.

Along my healing journey, I have come to understand that not everyone who enters our life is meant to stay. But many leave behind important lessons. Some act as mirrors, showing us where our boundaries were unclear or where we were still shrinking.

Every person carries the potential to be a light. That light may not always feel warm or gentle. It may come through resistance or discomfort. But it often illuminates exactly what we need to see.

An Invitation Forward

If there is one thing I hope you carry with you, it is this.

You are not wrong for wanting more space.

You are not too much for wanting to be seen.

You are not selfish for choosing yourself.

You are simply remembering who you are.

As you move forward, consider this gentle question.

Where have I been shrinking, and what might it look like to choose myself, one small step at a time?

Not perfectly.

Not all at once.

Just honestly.

Because the path changes with each return.

And wherever you are on that path, you are not behind.

You are not broken.

You are becoming.

With Love and Gratitude,

Amber

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