The Danger of Owning Your Story

There is a danger in owning your story.

Not danger in the sense of personal harm, but in the way that people may respond when you start showing up differently. When you decide to take the parts of yourself that have worked tirelessly to protect you—the ones that kept you small, silent, agreeable, or hidden—and begin releasing their burdens, letting your true Self take the lead, not everyone will clap for your transformation.

I’ve noticed this in my own life. For years, I moved through the world in familiar patterns, doing things the way I always had. I kept the peace, avoided conflict, put others first, and hid the details of my story out of fear of making others uncomfortable. But when I began to open up—speaking honestly about the things that shaped me and about the lens through which I see the world—something shifted.

It wasn’t just me who felt the change. Others did too. And not everyone liked it.

Boundaries Are Not “Bitchy Demands”

One of the hardest parts has been learning to set boundaries. For so long, asking for what I needed felt selfish, as though I were burdening others. When I finally found the courage to say, “This is what I need,” my own mind whispered that I was making bitchy demands.

But that isn’t the truth.

The truth is that boundaries are simply expressions of self-respect. They are the lines that allow me to stand in my own wholeness without collapsing under the weight of others’ expectations. And while some may resist those lines, I know now that protecting my own wellbeing is not cruelty—it’s courage.

The Fear of Selfishness

Talking about myself, telling my story, putting words to my pain and my healing—these, too, have sometimes been judged as selfish. Yet I’ve seen firsthand how my honesty ripples outward. People have reached out to tell me that my words gave them the strength to speak their own truth, or the courage to take one small step forward on their path.

That is not selfishness. That is service.

The Cost of Silence

So then comes the question: if my speaking, writing, and sharing costs me relationships with people who would rather I stay silent—should I sacrifice myself for their comfort?

For most of my life, the answer I gave was yes. I chose silence. I chose smallness. I chose to protect others’ feelings at the expense of my own growth.

But silence has its cost. It stunts growth. It keeps us bound by fear. It leaves us lonely inside, even when we’re surrounded by people.

I don’t want to live that way anymore.

The Pain of Growth

Growth is not easy. As Wilma Mankiller said, “Growth is a painful process.” And it is.

I don’t like conflict. I don’t want to hurt others. But I am finally recognizing that hurting myself to keep others comfortable is not the answer either.

If my growth pains you, I’m sorry. But perhaps it is also an invitation. Perhaps my growth is opening a new path for you, too—to stretch, to question, to grow alongside me.

Walking Forward

Owning my story means continuing to navigate this messy, imperfect balance: honoring my truth without apology, while holding compassion for those who are unsettled by my change.

It means choosing courage over comfort, even when my voice shakes. It means remembering that my story is not only for me—it is for the people who need to hear it, the ones who find their own reflection in my words and realize they are not alone.

And maybe, just maybe, it is for the people who are uncomfortable, too. Because discomfort can be the first step toward awakening.

So, I will keep going. I will keep growing. I will keep owning my story.

Because the danger of owning your story is real.

But the danger of not owning it is far greater.

Be brave. Be strong. Be you. All of you. Every part is important and matters.

Sending Good Vibes!!

Naazh