Welcome back to Soft Days Collective, friends.
I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s settle in for a minute, because today we are choosing not to shrink.
Something happened this week that has been sitting with me. It might sound small to some people. It was only a few sentences, a quick exchange, nothing earth shattering on the surface. But sometimes it is the seemingly small moments that reveal the biggest truths. Sometimes it is a passing comment that shows you exactly how much you have grown.
For the first time in years, I was openly mocked for the way my words sometimes come out of my mouth out of order. One adult made the comment. The other laughed.
If you know me, you know that sometimes my brain moves faster than my mouth. Words flip. Sentences tangle. I circle back. I repeat myself. Occasionally I start at the end and work my way to the beginning. That is simply how I am wired. It is not a flaw. It is not a punchline. It is just part of being a human with a beautifully complex brain that processes things in its own rhythm.
Most days, I own it. I laugh. I rephrase. I keep going.
But this was not playful. It was deliberate. And it was meant to land.
For a split second, I felt that old familiar heat rise up. The flash of high school hallways. The echo of teenage insecurity. The instinct to smooth myself out, to shrink just a little, to become easier to digest so someone else would not feel the need to comment.
It is amazing how quickly the body remembers what the heart has worked hard to heal.
But here is what I know now that I did not know then: shrinking does not protect you. It just makes you smaller.
Yes, it stung. I am not above admitting that. I am human. I care. Words matter to me. The energy behind them matters even more. And when something is said with the intention of making you feel small, your nervous system knows.
But instead of snapping back or spiraling inward, I chose something different.
I walked away.
Not dramatically. Not with a speech. Just a quiet decision that I would not participate.
Growth does not always look loud. It does not always come with perfectly crafted comebacks. Sometimes it looks like silence. Sometimes it looks like steady eye contact and then removing yourself from the situation. Sometimes it looks like protecting your peace instead of proving your point.
That felt powerful.
After a few days of reflection, here is where I have landed:
I will not apologize for how my brain works.
I will not apologize for occasionally stumbling over my words.
I will not apologize for existing in a way that is not perfectly polished or conveniently packaged.
I am not here to be edited into something more comfortable for someone else. And neither are you.
We all have wiring that makes us uniquely us. Some of it is tidy. Some of it is tangled. Some of it makes other people uncomfortable simply because they do not understand it. But difference is not deficiency. Processing differently is not weakness. Being human is not something that requires permission.
Mean energy does not magically disappear in adulthood. But neither does strength. Neither does growth. Neither does the quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly who you are.
Here at Soft Days Collective, we do not weaponize insecurity. We do not build ourselves up by making someone else feel small. We do not mock what we do not understand. We choose curiosity over cruelty. We choose growth over ego.
We stand firm.
We stay soft.
We take up space with both gentleness and backbone.
Your quirks are not flaws.
Your wiring is not wrong.
Your voice deserves space, even if it sometimes arrives out of order.
If someone has tried to make you feel small lately, let this be your reminder: you do not have to shrink to make other people comfortable. You can be kind without being quiet. You can be soft without being weak. You can grow without hardening.
And if someone wants to be mean, they can take that energy somewhere else.
Not here. Not in this space. Not in your life.
Until next time, may your days be soft, your spine be strong, and your heart steady.