Soft Girl Era, With A Hint Of Side Eye

Let’s get one thing straight: I’ve always found it a little bit hypocritical — okay, very hypocritical — to change or pretend to change just to fit into the box. You know the one I’m talking about. That silent societal box that comes in different, oddly-shaped forms: friendships, workplace expectations, romantic relationships, your aunty’s unsolicited opinions — you name it.

But here’s the thing: why is it me who has to adjust, adapt, compress my beautifully chaotic personality into a neat little cube? Why can’t the box do some adjusting for once? Throw in a few hinges. Install some WiFi. Meet me halfway, maybe?

I mean, I wasn’t dropped into the world like a neutral IKEA shelf waiting to be assembled. I came preloaded with all kinds of flavors. My parents raised me with their unique blend of structure and “don’t embarrass us in public.” The schools I attended added some extra seasoning — a dash of rebellion, a pinch of trauma, and a questionable school anthem. My friends contributed too (some more than others, some mostly contributed bad decisions), and the workplaces? Oh, they gave me the gift of patience and the ability to smile during hour-long meetings that could’ve been emails-also made friends for life!

So yes, I’m a glorious stew of all these experiences. But it does make me wonder: who would I have been without them? Would I be the calm, yoga-at-5am type who journals with color-coded pens? Or would I still be this beautiful whirlwind of sarcasm, snacks, and unsolicited existential crises? That question used to keep me up. Then something happened that rewired how I think.

There was a moment — not even that long ago (two weeks ago to be precise)— that completely knocked the wind out of my “just be yourself” sails. I had put myself out there — emotionally, mentally, maybe even financially (why are lessons always expensive, though?) — and it backfired in the most ungraceful way. One of those “oh, so we’re not doing this anymore?” situations that makes you rethink everything.

After that, I had become cautious. My inner voice went from carefree monologue to full-time crime scene investigator. Is this genuine? What’s their angle? Should I have said that? Should I have said less? Should I have said nothing and just sent a thumbs up emoji?

Curiosity turned into overthinking. And overthinking turned into a lot of unnecessary anxiety about just existing.

But slowly, and I mean s-l-o-w-l-y, I began to teach myself a new mindset, with advice from three very incredible people, excluding my therapist. One that says: things happen because that’s how they’re meant to happen. Maybe it’s not that deep. Maybe life doesn’t need my commentary or constant questioning. Maybe I’m not the editor-in-chief of the universe, and that’s okay.

I’m learning to care a little less. Not in a cold, detached way, but in a peaceful, I-refuse-to-overanalyze-this kind of way. In a way that keeps me from losing myself in situations. And weirdly enough, it feels good. Like an exhale I didn’t know I was holding.

Because here’s the kicker: in this world, the more people do something — even if it makes zero sense — it magically becomes normal. And the rest of us who zig while everyone zags? We’re labeled weird, difficult, or my personal favorite: unapproachable. (Honestly, I’m just shy. But thank you for your input, Susan.)

So yeah… I’ve caved. A little. Okay, maybe medium-caved. I smile more in meetings. I nod along to “team bonding” activities. I inquire less. I don’t take things personally. I occasionally respond with “Sounds great!” when what I really mean is “This is a terrible idea, but go off.” But here’s the thing: I’m still me. Just with less worry. Less noise in my head. More peace in my heart.

And maybe that’s the real win — not changing who I am, but changing how much I let things shake me.

I’ll still roll my eyes in private, still question the nonsense, still be a walking contradiction of deep thoughts and dumb jokes. But now, I do it with softer shoulders, better boundaries, and a quiet confidence that whispers, “You’re doing just fine, babe.”