Unapologetically Me Letting go of insecurity & embracing authenticity 

I wish I could rewind time and tell myself a few things.
I’d tell that driven, headstrong woman to stay exactly that way, no matter who’s standing in the room. Don’t shrink. Don’t dim your light or alter your character to make others more comfortable. You are not “too much.” You know what’s right and it’s okay to stand for the right thing in the midst of people who do the opposite. Their comfortability should not mean more than your own character.  Let go of the pressure to blend in. You weren’t made to. Stay true to yourself, even if it makes things awkward or tense. Because if you don’t, you’ll walk away feeling heavy; with guilt, with regret, with the ache of knowing you betrayed your own voice just to make someone else feel okay.You don’t have to fit in. It’s okay to be set apart. And it’s okay to speak up. Don’t let anxiety keep you silent. Easier said than done, I know; but speak up anyway. 

I would also tell her that she’s not dumb. She’s smart, educated, and deeply aware of what’s happening around her. She doesn’t have to stay silent out of fear of sounding stupid, because she is not stupid.

One of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned is this: You teach people how to treat you. If you stay quiet out of fear, people will begin to expect your silence. They’ll speak over you, dismiss your insight, and assume you have nothing to offer. If you shrink yourself by acting timid, shy, or uncertain, they’ll get the wrong impression of who you really are, and they’ll learn to expect less from you. If you constantly second guess yourself out loud, others will hear the doubt and believe they’re more capable than you, whether it’s true or not.

Confidence matters.
It shapes perception. It creates space for your voice. It teaches those around you that you know your worth and in a room full of leaders, it’s one of the most important things you can carry.

Have you ever struggled with this? I have more times than I can count. I know I’m smart. I know I’m capable. I have a constant inner dialogue, always critically thinking through situations and circumstances. I ask the “why,” do the work, and figure things out. I ask good questions. I offer thoughtful insight. I’m educated, well-read, and knowledgeable. If I don’t know something, I’m fully capable of learning it. I’m dedicated, hardworking, and full of good ideas. For some reason though, I’ve often placed more value on being accepted than on being bold. I fear being judged, which somehow turns into a fear of sounding stupid—even though I know I’m not.I fear stepping on toes or coming across as disrespectful. So I stay quiet and when I stay quiet, I walk away from conversations and situations, carrying all this insight and perspective that never gets said.

It took a few therapy sessions, some messy journaling, and a lot of hard thinking to finally realize: that silence? It’s rooted in something deeper.

When I was a child, I wasn’t believed. I didn’t speak out about the abuse—at least not at first. But I did try to say something small. He showed me porn. That’s what I told them. Ten-year-old me thought, “Let me say this and see how it goes. If they believe me, maybe I can tell them the rest.” But it didn’t go well. They said I was being dramatic. That I was lying for attention. After that, when the abuse continued and got worse, I stayed silent. Because when I spoke up about the porn, I got choked by my abuser and called dramatic by my family. Therefore, I learned young that staying quiet made other people more comfortable. I learned that speaking up might get me hurt, misunderstood, or labeled something I wasn’t.

And the irony? Now, as an adult, when I choose to stay silent, I feel misunderstood anyway .Why? Because that silence isn’t who I truly am. It’s not rooted in confidence or authenticity. It’s rooted in fear.

Obviously, it’s easier to push past these insecurities when I’m in an environment where I feel supported and where I’m championed. But in spaces where I don’t feel that safety, I crumble, remain silent, and walk away filled with anxiety because all of my core values were tossed out the window in exchange for being “accepted” but for someone who isn’t authentically me. So how does one fight through something like this? How do you stay grounded in who you are, even when the room feels intimidating and ultimately, not psychologically safe? How do you show up boldly and authentically? That’s what I’m chasing. To be strong enough to show up as myself, confidently, no matter who’s around me. To be unapologetically me, in every room I walk into. This looks like an outgoing, kind, compassionate, present, respectful, truthful, humble, leader who speaks when she feels led and stays quiet when someone else has the floor ensuring that space is made for others. It looks like loving others BIG, making others feel seen, standing up for what’s right and just, and soaking in every ounce of wisdom from those around her. It looks like messy mistakes and bold apologies, admitting when I’m wrong, and being thankful for opportunity and grace. It looks like selflessness above all else and leading with a kind, empathetic heart. It looks like believing in myself and knowing that my words do have value. It looks like being exactly who I am, being bold, and ignoring the insecurity that so loudly plays in my head. I will show up as me in every room despite the feelings of insecurity and I will seek validation from no one and lean on the hope that the right people will love me for me, accept me for me, and champion who I am along with valuing me and knowing my worth. Join me, please. Let’s all be ourselves no matter who is in the room. Let’s all remember our worth and try to care less about the opinions of those around us but instead stay true to our own character despite popularity and acceptance knowing that the right people will come alongside us. This is a hard challenge to embrace for most people but I believe we can do it.