I used to think I was protecting myself.
Holding back, softening my words, choosing silence over the risk of being misunderstood—it felt like self-preservation. I told myself it was better this way, that it wasn’t worth the frustration of explaining, defending, or correcting the version of me that others created in their minds.
But now, I’m not so sure.
Because if courage is choosing our discomfort, then I have been making a choice all along. Not the one I thought I was making, but a choice nonetheless.
I thought I was avoiding the pain of being misrepresented. What I was really doing was choosing a different kind of pain—the pain of never really being seen at all.
I’ve spent so much time making myself small, careful, inoffensive. I’ve swallowed my thoughts before they could be misread. I’ve shaped myself into something more palatable, something easier to digest. I thought this would keep me safe.
But safe from what?
The truth is, I haven’t been avoiding discomfort. I’ve just been choosing a different kind.
Because the alternative to being misunderstood isn’t being understood. It’s being invisible.
And maybe that’s the bigger risk.
Maybe the real loss isn’t when people get me wrong—it’s when they never get the chance to know me at all.
So if discomfort is inevitable, then what discomfort do I choose?
The fear of being seen and possibly misunderstood? Or the regret of never being seen at all?
I think I’ve been choosing regret for a long time without realising it.
Maybe it’s time to choose differently.