Holding My Identity Under Pressure
There are moments when I can feel myself tightening inside.
Not because I don't know who I am.
Because the space around me is asking me to become smaller.
I've felt it in conversations.
In expectations.
In subtle moments where something inside me recognises that I am being asked to bend more than I want to.
When that pressure builds, my instinct has never been to disappear.
It's to hold on.
To my language.
To my values.
To the parts of myself that didn't come easily.
Holding my identity doesn't always look strong from the outside.
Sometimes it's silent.
Sometimes it's choosing not to justify myself.
Sometimes it's simply staying present without reshaping who I am to make others comfortable.
There's something steady in that.
Even when the pressure is there.
Even when it feels heavy.
I'm still here.
Still whole.
Still myself.
Some days, that is enough.
