The Destructive Fuckery of Shrinking

I am going to start with a story.  It was a few years ago now, but I was at my goddaughters 5th grade graduation.  Among being clever, smart, athletic, ambitious and kind, my goddaughter, like me, is tall.  

You may not know that about me - but I am 6'0 on a good day and in heels (which I was wearing that day) I easily tower over most, men included.  

I have spent a lot of time working on that part of my body image and if you had asked me that day, I would have been reasonably confident that being tall was no longer something I was insecure over.  Hell, I was in the heels right?

As you do with graduations, we went to take pics.  The first pic I took with her mom, one of my dearest friends for over 20 years, so I was very familiar with the positions we take respectively for photo opps.  I crouched down instinctively, angling myself to match her height Snap.

Next my goddaughter took a pic with her teacher.  Why my observation skills were particularly tingly that day- I do not know.  But I noticed that instead of shrinking down to meet her teacher’s level, my goddaughter stood tall. Shoulders back. Spine elongated. Her posture pulsed with pride.

And then something unexpected happened:

Her teacher rose up onto her tiptoes.

Now listen—this might not be a mic-drop moment for you the way it was for me, but my goddaughter just turned 17 and I fight through actual big girl tears as I unfold this story on paper. 

Because for me, it was a visceral, almost sacred example of how quickly we learn to shrink ourselves to make others comfortable—rather than staying tall in our truth, our power, our decisions, our expectations… and letting others rise to meet us.

And yet I see so many women—arguably most women—shrinking in all kinds of ways.

✨ Hesitating to tell their partner they want to try something new in bed for fear of making them feel inadequate

✨ Avoiding telling their best friend they got a raise, in case it sounds “showy”

✨ Starting every text message with: “I’m so sorry I’m just now getting back to you, I’ve just been so…”

It isn't obvious.  It isn't loud. But it is cumulative.

Little by little, we prioritize other people’s comfort over our own needs. We disconnect from the parts of ourselves that crave nourishment, passion, and attention. We tune out purpose because the pressure just screams louder.

And this—this right here—is why I do the work I do.

Because at this powerful, beautiful stage of midlife, I want every woman, mother, business owner, and badass leader to know:

Confidence isn’t egotistical.

It’s a civic duty.

When you hold your head higher, it gives other women permission to do the same.

It heals generational trauma.

It clears ancestral wounds.

It redefines what’s possible for you but for the next generation also.

Yes—when you stop shrinking, it is that powerful.