Too Much, Too Quiet, Too Real: Reclaiming Identity Beyond Assumptions and Reputation

Author of blog standing in front of a misty water fall, reclaiming identity with quiet strength

Sometimes, what unsettles people most is not what you say or do, but that you exist outside the script they’re used to. This is a reflection for every woman who has ever been misread, underestimated, or quietly judged for showing up fully in her power.

There is a strange weight that comes with being seen, especially when you are not being seen clearly. I have learned that people project stories onto others like screens, casting shadows that say more about them than about me.

Some see confidence and assume arrogance. Beauty, and assume vanity. Ease, and assume privilege. I have been called high-maintenance, unapproachable, self-centered. I have been quietly placed into boxes I never asked to enter, often by those who barely know me or who once did and did not like that I grew beyond them.

Reputation and Rumours

One former partner rewrote our ending in ways that made me doubt myself.

Another claimed credit for something I created and made it their own, leaving me questioning my worth and the originality of my work.

Someone in my field, perhaps unsettled by my different approach, portrayed me as someone who coasts, assuming my success stems from privilege rather than hard work and persistence.

But the truth is quieter.

I live simply and intentionally.

Most days, I am focused on my physical and mental well-being, working out, caring for my pets, immersed in my work, or walking in nature.

What unsettles others is not the truth, but the fact that I thrive without following their familiar rules.

The High-Maintenance Myth

Somewhere along the way, being well-groomed, intentional, or graceful became suspicious.

If you take care of yourself, you must be shallow. If you look polished, you must be self-absorbed. If you carry yourself with quiet strength, you must think you are better than others. If you wear something form-fitting or your body is shaped a certain way, you must be promiscuous. If you bring ease and lightness to a room, allow others to shine, and also happen to look a certain way, you must not be intelligent.

I have watched this myth follow me into rooms before I even speak.

The idea that I must have nothing real going on because I make it a point to show up well in body, in presence, in care.

What they do not see are the sleepless nights I have carried businesses on my back, the heartbreaks I have transmuted in silence, the decisions I have made that no one clapped for.

Taking care of myself is not a performance.

It is a reclamation: a way of saying, I choose to honour myself even when others try to dishonour me.

"Guys Must Be After You"

More than once, I have had friends say it, half compliment, half assumption.

You must have men lining up. You probably have a wild sex life.

But what they do not know is that I have been celibate for over a year. Not because I am repressed, but because I am discerning. Because I choose depth over distraction: real connection over convenience.

There is a strange fantasy projected onto women who look a certain way, who walk with confidence, who wear their skin like they earned it.

As if sensuality must equate to promiscuity. As if beauty must mean availability.

What they are seeing is not a story of indulgence, but one of restraint, clarity, and self-worth.

And perhaps that is harder to understand because it does not fit the script we are expected to follow.

The Idea That I Intimidate Men

Another story I did not ask to carry: That is why men are intimidated by you. You are too independent, too confident. They think you are out of their league.

But I am not a contest.

I am not standing on some pedestal waiting to be worshipped or toppled. I am just living: a woman who has spent years building herself, falling apart, and rising again.

If that feels threatening to someone, that is not a reflection of my worth. It is a reflection of what they have yet to meet within themselves.

I do not need someone to compete for my attention. I want someone who meets me in truth: who stands beside me, not beneath, not above.

Reclaiming My Narrative

I have come to realise that how I am perceived says more about others than it does about me. And for those who truly know me, they know the softness behind the strength.

Some will project, distort, or assume because it serves their story to shrink mine.

Let them.

This is not about defence. It is about reclaiming identity, stepping outside the narratives others write for me.

I am not here to be palatable. I am not here to be decoded through the lens of someone else’s insecurities or gossip.

I am here to be honest, to be whole, and to be seen by those willing to look beyond the surface.

Reputation is fragile. It can be built on whispers, altered by envy, broken by betrayal.

But identity, true identity, is quiet and untouchable.

It lives in the way I treat people when no one is watching, in the work I show up for when I am exhausted, in the peace I have fought for within myself.

So let them talk. Let them assume.

And if you know this feeling too, just keep living in your truth, quietly, clearly, and without apology.