A PSA to Shrinking Violets Everywhere from a Recovering Nice Girl
Shrinking Violet:
This is your unsolicited, yet entirely necessary, public service announcement.
To the quiet ones. The deferential. The “whatever works for you” types. The ones who apologize when someone bumps into them. The ones who’ve mastered the art of emotional origami to prevent everyone around them from experiencing discomfort. The ones who swallow their needs, their opinions, their voices, and sometimes even their entire personalities.
Listen up:
You are entitled to exist.
And not just in theory. In practice. Out loud. In rooms. In conversations. In your body. In your weirdness. In your mess and your magic. In your life.
This isn’t a self-help poster you scroll past and forget about. This is a call to action. This is me banging two pots together on your porch screaming, “WAKE UP, YOU’RE ALLOWED TO BE HERE.”
Shrinking isn’t noble. It’s exhausting.
Somewhere along the way, someone taught you that it’s safer to be small.
To not ruffle feathers. To be “easygoing” (read: self-erasing).
To not make other people uncomfortable at the cost of your own breath.
Maybe it was your family. Maybe it was religion. Maybe it was the workplace. Maybe it was all three, served cold with a side of “you should smile more.”
You might have been conditioned, rewarded even, for being agreeable. Quiet. Helpful. Chill. Invisible.
And I get it. You were surviving.
But you can’t pitch a tent in the wreckage and call it home.
There comes a point where shrinking isn’t a habit. It’s a prison. It’s Stockholm Syndrome.
And so, I implore you: Take. Up. Space.
I’m not talking about buying a megaphone and interrupting every meeting. I mean, taking up the space that’s already yours by nature, simply for existing.
The space to say “Eh, I’m not really feeling sushi today.”
The space to send a short text with no emoji and not spiral about how it might be received.
The space to try something new and suck at it.
The space to ask for help before you feel you’ve “earned” it.
You don’t have to be the loudest person in the room. But you do have to stop pretending you’re not in it.
Okay, but what if people don’t like the louder me?
That’s okay! You being digestible to everyone has never been the point. Mass appeal is the enemy of authenticity, and the more you try to be for everyone, the more you lose what makes you, you.
Spoiler Alert: If someone only likes you when you’re convenient, their opinion doesn’t belong on your radar. Let ‘em squirm. Let them see you take up space. If they’re uncomfortable, it’s likely because your growth is making the room feel smaller for them.
What if I don’t even know what “taking up space” looks like?
You start small. Not shrinking small, seed small. The kind of small that grows. Here are some ideas to get you started:
Speak one truth a day, even if your voice trembles.
Ask yourself what you want, without crowdsourcing your intuition.
Use your full voice when ordering food. Not the whispery “I’ll just have…” voice. (You know the one.)
Say no, without drafting a 14-page PDF explaining why. (This one will be tough. Do it anyway.)
Doing small things like this consistently is how you start to unshrink yourself. Every time you take up a little space, you remind your nervous system that it’s safe to be seen. And eventually, what once felt like rebellion will just feel like… you.
Confessions of a Recovering Shrinker
From one former ghost to another: I know what it's like. I make this plea as someone who used to throw herself into walls for fear of being perpetually in the way, as if there didn’t exist a space on this planet where I belonged. If someone so much as sighed behind me in a checkout line, I’d feel compelled to apologize for existing in their airspace. I’ve sidestepped through the majority of my life like an awkward crab, whispering mostly inaudible sorries along the way.
For years, I thought being agreeable (or as I called it: “low maintenance”) was a virtue. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve apologized for asking for wrong food orders to be fixed (if I even asked at all), interrupting someone who had actually interrupted me, needing help, crying, sneezing, or being awkward. You name it.
Unshrinking has been a process. Some days, I still feel very aware of when I’m taking up space. I still feel my throat tighten when I disagree. I still get the impulse to say “sorry” when someone cuts me off. But I’ve learned to notice it. To pause. To choose differently, even if it doesn’t feel natural all the time.
And the benefits have been worth it. I reclaim a little more confidence each time I choose myself. I experience fewer awkward moments spent over-explaining and less time doing things that don't align with me because I couldn’t say no. I make easier decisions. I sleep better. I feel less resentment. And most importantly, I’ve learned to trust myself, which I hadn’t realized was the main issue all along.
You are not a passenger in your own life.
Shrinking may have made you feel safe, but it also made you disappear. And you deserve more than to be an emotional seat-filler in someone else’s story.
If I were there in front of you right now, I would look into your eyes and tell you this truth: Your presence is not a burden. Your desires are not inconveniences. Your “too muchness” is only too much for people who benefit from your silence.
And when you finally stop shrinking and start standing fully in yourself, remember to make space for the ones still learning how. Power isn’t about drowning others out. It’s about making sure everyone gets to have a voice.
And so I say to you…
…to the peacemaker who swallows his needs to keep everyone else comfortable.
…to the over-thinker who rehearses conversations before they happen, then replays them for days after.
…to the people pleaser who’s thanked for never making waves, but has forgotten what it’s like to speak her truth.
This is your permission slip, handed to you from a recovering shrinker with tea breath and slightly smeared eyeliner. Take up space. Use your voice. Wear the thing. Grab the last slice.
Rip this page out. Let it live in your bag, your pocket, your glove compartment. And when they expect you to stay small, pull it out and double your volume.
