Keep the Change
A letter board sitting in front of a dandelion blanket with a quote from Brené Brown saying, “True belonging is not passive”
Editor’s note: This is written from my current vantage point
Welcome back, curious minds and kind hearts, to The Things That Stay. This September series is about reflection, integration, and what we carry forward as life continues to change us. Throughout this month, we’ll be exploring the things we outgrow, the things we reconsider, the questions we’re still living, and, perhaps most importantly, the pieces of ourselves that remain somewhere through it all.
Last week, I opened the series with Somewhere in the Mix. A reflection on finding myself in a chapter of life I never quite planned for and realizing that maybe life doesn’t have to unfold in the order I once imagined. If you missed Chapter One, you can read it here.
This week, I’ve been thinking about something slightly different. What if growth doesn’t always require leaving parts of ourselves behind?
When I was younger, people commenting on how quiet I was. I never quite understood why it stood out. But hearing it pointed out made me increasingly aware that being outgoing seemed to be the quality people valued more.
Talk more. Come out of your shell. Be more outgoing.
I never tried to turn myself into someone I wasn’t. If anything, having my quietness pointed out may have made me even quieter. Over time, I became more aware of it, and that awareness slowly became insecurity.
I noticed people who seemed to have what I didn’t. Outgoing people appeared warm and welcoming. Conversation seemed to come naturally to them. They could speak smoothly and confidently without struggling to figure out what to say next.
They could capture a room’s attention. Those were also qualities I often associated with leadership. And part of me still admires that. Would I love to naturally walk into a room and command it? Sure. Would I actually enjoy being the outgoing person commanding it? No.
And that’s something I’ve had to learn about growth. There’s a difference between developing a skill and trying to replace your personality.
I want to become a better, more confident speaker. I want to communicate more confidently and easily. I want to continue finding my voice. But I’ve realized I don’t need to become outgoing to do any of those things.
I’m a listener by nature. It may take me some time to warm up. I tend to process before I speak. And that’s okay.
Maybe I didn’t need a different personality. I just needed to become less apologetic about the one I already had.
Quietness isn’t the only part of myself I’ve had to reconsider. During a difficult period in my life, I was told I was “too sensitive.” And that stayed with me.
At first, I questioned it. I didn’t feel like someone else could know enough about who I was internally to make such a broad judgement about me.
Still, I carried it.
Mostly, I felt ashamed. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe I needed to toughen up.
Looking back, I’m sure there has been moments in my life when I’ve taken something more personally than necessary or allowed emotion to influence how I interpreted something. I’m capable of that. But I also believe my feelings in that particular situation were valid.
Eventually, I came to feel that my sensitivity had become an easy target within an already complicated situation.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to convince myself I wasn’t sensitive. I am. I care deeply. I feel things strongly. And I’m proud of that.
I’ve started seeing my sensitivity differently. I think it’s connected to my creativity and compassion. It’s part of why connection matters so much to me and why kindness has always carried so much weight.
Feeling deeply can mean some experiences hurt deeply too. But that doesn’t necessarily mean feeling deeply is the problem.
The same has been true of my optimism. I’ve always been a relatively happy-go-lucky, glass-half-full person. At the foundation of that optimism is a pretty simply belief that things can get better. And that belief hasn’t gone away.
Rather it’s my understanding of optimism that has changed.
At one point, someone brought the idea of toxic positivity to my attention. At the time, I wasn’t quite ready to hear it. Eventually, though, I realized there was something in the idea that I needed to examine.
There were times when I used positivity to steamroll my own emotions. Part of it came from genuinely being optimistic. Looking for something good helped me keep going. But part of it became something I felt like I needed to maintain.
Keep going. Stay positive. Don’t make things harder. Everything will eventually be okay.
Even when I stopped feeling particularly optimistic, I sometimes tried to carry myself as though I was. But I’ve since learned that looking for the positive and acknowledging the negative don’t have to compete. I can believe something will get better and still admit that right now, it sucks. I can be grateful and hurt. I can look for the silver lining after I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge the storm. Keeping my optimism doesn’t mean using it to erase every emotion that makes me uncomfortable.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been getting wrong about change.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking growth meant identifying the parts of myself that needed improvement and working on them. And sometimes it does. But i’m still learning not to be so critical of myself. I’m trying to find more flexibility in my routines. I still overthink. I still seek reassurance from time to time.
There are things I genuinely want to change. But there are other parts of me that didn’t need to disappear. Instead, they needed to mature. And privacy is one of them.
I’ve always considered myself a private person. Even when I’ve been open with people, there have always been personal parts of my life I’ve kept to myself.
After some difficult experiences, through, privacy became something more protective. I became tired of feeling like people were forming conclusions about situations they hadn’t taken the time to understand. When I felt as though assumptions were being made instead of simply communicating with me, my instinct became to put up a wall.
Closing myself off made me feel safer. Yet it also sometimes made me feel even more misunderstood. And it’s something I’m still figuring out on where that balance lives.
But now I know that privacy and dishonesty aren’t the same thing. I don’t owe everyone every detail. I get to decide where I draw the line, with whom, and when.
For me, someone earning greater access comes through consistency. Compassion. Taking the time to understand instead of assuming. Making me feel safe enough to lower the wall myself.
And I’ve learned something similar about relationships. Caring deeply doesn’t mean I should always be the one who's flexible. Being kind doesn't mean I should always be the one communicating, clarifying, being vulnerable, reaching out, or trying to repair things.
I want relationships where that care is reciprocated. Where people communicate instead of leaving each other to fill in the blanks. Where both people feel valued.
Because I matter too.
That’s a sentence I understand much differently than I once did.
I can protect myself without deciding everyone is untrustworthy. I can establish boundaries without becoming cold. I can become more discerning without becoming cynical. And I can acknowledge that some people have hurt me without deciding there are more bad people in this world than good.
That last one hasn’t always been easy. There were moments when I genuinely questioned it.
But if there’s one thing about myself I hope experience never takes away, it’s kindness. I’ve always believed kindness can make all the difference in the world. To me, kindness is connected to gratitude. It’s caring about people. Treatingthem with respect. Recognizing that what might feel insignificant to you could mean everything to somebody else.
I don’t want painful experiences to convince me that caring was the mistake. Maybe that’s what keeping the change means to me. To keep the lessons. Keep the stronger boundaries. Keep learning to communicate more efficiently. Keep becoming more and more confident. And keep questioning the habits that no longer serve me.
I’ve also learned that I don’t need to trade away my sensitivity, optimism, quietness, or kindness to prove that I’ve grown.
Yes, I’ve changed. But maybe I’ve also simply become less apologetic about the person I’ve been all along.
If I could sit beside the younger version of myself, the girl who became increasingly insecure every time someone pointed out how quiet she was, I think I’d tell her something simple. You don’t need to change. Being shy, quiet, or reserved isn’t a negative quality. In simple terms, you move through the world a little differently. And that’s okay.
Life will change you in plenty of ways. So, let it teach you. Just don’t let every lesson convince you that who you were before learning it was someone you needed to leave behind.
Now, I’d love to hear from you. What’s something about yourself you once thought you needed to change, but have since learned to appreciate or understand differently? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
And remember to tune in on Monday, September 7th (Labor Day), for the next chapter of The Things That Stay series. Until then, sending you love, laughter, and light.
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
