I’m Done Apologizing for These 6 Things — And You Should Be Too

There comes a point in every woman’s life where she stops shrinking to fit into places she’s outgrown.

That moment for me didn’t come with fireworks or fanfare.
It arrived in the quiet, a soul-deep whisper that said, “No more.”

No more explaining myself.
No more softening the edges that make me me.
No more apologizing for the fire that fuels my purpose.

This is my declaration.
This is my reclaiming.
This is for every woman who’s been called “too much.”

1. My Passion

I love hard. I feel deeply. I will cry with you, celebrate with you, and speak with fire when something lights me up.

As a woman, a leader, a healer, and a mother, my passion is the heartbeat of everything I do.
I’ve been told I’m too emotional, too intense, too much.

There was a time when I tried to temper that—when I thought being passionate meant I had to “calm down.”

Not anymore.

I’ve learned that feeling deeply is a superpower, not a liability.

 My passion is my compass.
It’s not too much. It’s just right.

Passion is what allows me to see beauty in the chaos, to keep going when it gets hard, and to fight fiercely for what matters.

So no, I won’t apologize for crying in meetings, loving loudly, or bringing my whole heart into the room. That’s just how I’m built—and I finally love that about myself.

2. My Bigness

I have big dreams. Big visions. Big ideas for how I want to change the world.
I’ve been told to be more “realistic.”
I’ve been advised to “start small” or “wait my turn.”

I remember talking to my husband about all of my dreams and his response was “Why can’t you just be happy with what you have?  When will it be ‘enough’ for you?”.

I spiraled into shame and guilt for believing I was, once again, an ungrateful little b*tch (something I heard from my family when I was a teenager).

I don’t dream small.
I have visions that stretch across generations. I see a world transformed by women who remember who they are.

But here’s what no one tells you: Big dreams make people uncomfortable.
And often, the world will try to convince you to shrink—not because your dreams are impossible, but because they're intimidating.

But I’m not here to fit into someone else’s version of realistic.
I’m here to expand—to live in full expression of the legacy I’m building.
I won’t apologize for taking up space. I was born to.

I embrace the fact that I’m not here to fit in.
I’m here to build what doesn’t yet exist.

And that requires big vision, bold belief, and the courage to show up as the fullest version of myself—without apology.

3. My Intensity

I care deeply. I question boldly. I dive into everything from emotional healing to social impact to spirituality. When I care, I care with my whole being.

I don’t do things halfway. I don’t skim the surface. I’m not interested in small talk when we could be talking about soul work, purpose, healing, or the magic of this very moment.

There was a time when I thought I had to be more “chill.”
But here’s the truth:
My intensity isn’t a flaw. It’s a force.
It’s the energy behind transformation.

I used to see my intensity as something I needed to manage.
But now I see it as devotion.
It means I’m all in. It means I’m present. It means I’m alive.

If that makes me “too much” for some people, so be it.
The right people won’t just handle my intensity—they’ll honor it.

4. My Swearing

Yes, I swear.

Swearing isn’t about being edgy or crude—it’s about being uncensored.
It’s part of my authenticity. It’s part of my rhythm.
It reminds me I’m human, grounded, and connected to the rawness of this life.

I’ve played the polished professional. I’ve worn the mask.
And now, I choose truth over polish.
If that offends someone, they’re not my people.

Let’s just say—sometimes a well-placed f-bomb is the truest expression of how I feel.

I’d rather be fully expressed than forever filtered.

I’m here to be real.

So no—I won’t hold my tongue to be more “ladylike.”
I’d rather be fully expressed than tightly packaged.

5. My Positivity

I believe in people.
I believe in possibility.
I believe in the power of joy—even in the midst of challenge.

Let’s talk about the kind of positivity that isn’t about pretending everything’s perfect—but choosing to believe that something good is still possible, even in the hard.

This is not toxic positivity.
It’s not bypassing.

I’ve walked through grief.
I’ve sat in the dark with my own fears, doubts, and heartbreak.
And still, I choose joy. Still, I believe in people.

My positivity is not denial—it’s a deep, unshakable trust in the resilience of the human spirit.
It’s my rebellion against despair.

It’s a grounded, hard-earned belief in the goodness of the human spirit.
I’ve known pain, and still—I choose to see the light.
That’s not naivety. That’s strength.

If that makes me “too hopeful” or “unrealistic,” so be it.
I’ll take fierce hope over passive cynicism any day.

6. My Worth

This one has taken time.
Years of people-pleasing, over-giving, and confusing my value with my productivity or my ability to fix things for others.

But now, I know better.
I know my worth is not something to prove—it’s something to protect.

I no longer beg to be chosen.
I choose myself—and that changes everything.

I honor the sacred exchange in every relationship.
And if I show up with love, respect, and truth, I expect that to be mirrored.
Not in perfection—but in presence, in energy, in intention.

I no longer apologize for expecting to be met with the same love and integrity I offer others.
I honor my worth—and I surround myself with people who do the same.

This isn’t about ego.
It’s about energetic alignment.
It’s about refusing to stay in spaces where I have to beg to be seen.

I’ve learned that knowing your worth isn’t loud—it’s unwavering.
And once you know it, everything changes.

Final Word

This isn’t just about me.
It’s about us.

You don’t have to make yourself smaller to be loved.
You don’t have to dim your light to belong.

You are allowed to feel deeply. Dream wildly. Take up space unapologetically.
And most of all—
You are allowed to honor the whole of who you are.

Because the world doesn’t need more polite perfection.
The world needs more women who are real, radiant, and whole.

And wholeness?
Wholeness is never too much.