
Most of my life has been spent trying to shrink myself. I am trying to become smaller. Quieter. Less sensitive. Less opinionated. Less needy. Because I didn’t want to be a burden, I didn’t want to be too much or push people away. I wanted people to like me. I wanted to be cared for and valued. I wanted to be desired. So for years, I sacrificed myself to make other people happy. And for years, I suffered. But I’m tired of suffering, and I’m done shrinking. I am not usually the one that handles changing who I am to become someone else’s idea of a worthwhile human being. I am worthwhile. Not because other people think I am, but because I exist, and therefore I matter. My reflections matter. My feelings matter my voice matters. And with or without anyone’s authorization or acceptance, I will continue to be who I am and articulate my truth even if it makes people incensed. Even if it makes them awkward, even if they choose to flee, I refuse to shrink. I decide to take up space. I choose to honor my consistencies. I prefer to permit myself to get my needs met.π

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