I Was Never Too Much
I used to shrink without noticing.
Not in obvious ways.
Not in ways anyone would call out.
Just… subtle edits.
Softer opinions.
Shorter sentences.
Pauses where there should have been certainty.
I learned how to read a room
and then… slowly rewrite myself to fit inside it.
I thought that was maturity.
Adjustment.
Awareness.
Grace.
But it wasn’t.
It was translation.
Turning something whole
into something more acceptable.
I would speak
and then soften it.
Share
and then explain it.
Be sure of something…
and then add just enough doubt
to make other people comfortable.
Not because I didn’t know who I was.
But because I could feel it.
The slight shift in energy.
The hesitation.
The way people leaned back instead of leaning in.
So I adjusted.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until one day…
I noticed something.
The rooms I kept trying to fit into
never expanded.
No matter how much I shrank.
And the people who truly saw me?
They never asked me to soften anything.
They didn’t need clarification.
Didn’t need disclaimers.
Didn’t need me to make myself easier to hold.
They just…
met me where I already was.
So I stopped.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just in small, quiet ways.
I stopped rounding off my edges.
Stopped explaining things
that were already clear to me.
Stopped offering extra context
to people who weren’t really listening anyway.
And I stopped softening my words.
I say what I feel.
I say what I mean.
No long explanations.
Just direct to the point.
I stopped dumbing myself down.
I stopped trying so hard to think of how I will say something that will not sound arrogant to the other person just because I said it using a different language or a different set of words.
And nothing broke.
No confrontation.
No fallout.
Just a shift.
Some spaces grew quieter.
Some people drifted.
Some conversations… simply ended.
And for the first time—
that silence didn’t feel like rejection.
It felt like alignment.
I realized I wasn’t losing anything.
I was leaving rooms
that were never built for me.
Because I was never too much.
Not too intense.
Not too expressive.
Not too deep.
Not too aware.
I was just trying to exist fully
in spaces that only had room for fragments.
And the moment I stopped adjusting?
I found something better than acceptance.
I found recognition.
Now…
I don’t enter rooms
wondering if I’ll fit.
I enter knowing:
if I have to shrink to stay,
it was never mine to begin with.
And if that means fewer rooms?
Quieter spaces?
More selective doors?
Good.
Because the ones that remain…
finally feel like home.
Read the pieces that carry my feelings:
---
Lady E
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