i stopped apologising for being full of myself.

i stopped apologising for being full of myself.

for years, being told i was “full of myself” could knock me sideways.

someone would make a snide comment about me being too opinionated, too feisty, too much, and i’d immediately crouch down.

try to prove i wasn’t arrogant.

basically, i’d scramble to reassure them that I wasn’t that full of myself.

and looking back, i find that fascinating, as well as infuriating..

because I wasn’t actually short of confidence.

i was short of permission.

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i hadn’t given myself permission to be completely myself without constantly checking how iwas landing with everyone else.

bloody full time job with absolutely no pay…

i didn’t believe it was okay to be funny, opinionated, loud, passionate, ambitious, emotional, eccentric, enthusiastic.

i genuinely believed i had to be who they thought i should be.

like, who the fuck are they?

because now i look back, i can assure you i never got the memo.

and for years, i genuinely felt ashamed that i hadn’t.

and i see it so clearly now and think: Jesus. i was exhausting myself.

and no matter how many books i read, coaches i hired or therapists i worked with, i couldn’t simply think my way out of it.

because this wasn’t really about confidence.

it was deeper than that.

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it was about me.

what was deep inside me.

i had to alchemise all of it.

the pain, old beliefs, good-girl identity, habits i’d developed to stay safe, all the parts of myself i’d trained myself to suppress.

and eventually i had to ask myself a much more interesting question:

what if i didn’t need to hide those parts?

because, here’s the thing, the danger wasn’t actually that other people wanted me to shrink.

it was me capitulating in order to keep them happy.

staying silent when i wanted to speak, lowering my standards to avoid conflict, hiding my ambitions to make someone else comfortable.

and then wondering why I didn’t’ feel like myself.

so then i got resentful and angry and started asking myself:

why the fuck am i hiding who i truly am to keep the peace?

and look, let me be clear: it wasn’t about fixing myself.

because, trust me on this, for years, if someone disliked me, i would immediately assume there was something wrong with me.

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BUT then it dawned on me:

someone thinking i’m too much may have absolutely NOTHING to do with me.

and I’m like….hold on.

why am i always making it about me?

that’s a BLOODY burden…

and heavy to carry, and i can’t be bothered with it anymore.

what if someone thinks i’m full of myself?

like seriously, so what?

that’s the work i had to do

and i did, truly, really did…

and that’s where i started learning to have my own back.

not in the I’m perfect and everyone else is wrong kind of way.

i’m not.

some people won’t like me, won’t understand me, simply won’t be my people.

that’s life.

ce la vie…

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and yeah, look i’m not interested in bypassing that, blaming anyone for not liking the real me, or resenting people who can’t accept me.

i’m interested in clearing, reclaiming and choosing again.

choosing freedom.

and if there’s one thing i know for sure, it’s this:

freedom, is partly the ability to let people dislike you.

to let someone think you’re too much, think you’re full of yourself.

without immediately making it your job to change their mind.

and somewhere along the way, something wonderful happened.

“you’re full of yourself” stopped sounding like an insult.

because, maybe at times, yeah, i am… full of opinions, full of ideas, full of quirks, full of desire, full of humour, full of love, full of things i want to do and see and experience, full of mistakes i’ve survived and lessons i’ve learned, wisdom I’ve collected along the way, energetic capacity i haven’t even discovered yet.

i’m full of myself.

and i’m finally okay with that.

actually

i frigging love it.

so if someone tells me i’m full of myself now?

i’m like.

yeah.

i am.

thanks for noticing …

as that’s not something i’m ever giving back.