Am I Crazy to Think This Way? - Reclaiming My Voice

I spent a lot of my life quiet. Not just soft-spoken—silent. Because growing up, I was told to be that way.

“Shut up.”
“You’re a child.”
“Be good and obey.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

So I didn’t talk. I served. I obeyed. I played it safe.

As children, we don’t form our own opinions—we inherit them. We absorb everything around us because our own experiences are still blank pages.
“Don’t touch that, it’s hot.”
“Strangers are bad.”
“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
Our life experiences are so limited we rely on everyone else’s experience before we choose our own. We learn what to do, how to behave, who to trust—and who we are, according to everyone else learn the rules before we ever learn how to question them.

In my world, questioning wasn’t encouraged. Hierarchy ruled. And in a hierarchy, the safest thing you can do is shrink.

So, I became a people pleaser.
“A naive one.”
“Afraid to speak up.”
“Afraid to be “too much.”
“Afraid of being wrong.

Because in my house, if you weren’t perfect—you were wrong. If you dared to speak your truth, you were met with:

“I didn’t come to this country for you to be so stupid.”

Eventually, the quiet stopped feeling safe. It started feeling like a lie.

The Surrender of Self
Self-doubt doesn’t always scream. Sometimes, it whispers.

Am I crazy to think this way?
Did I really say that?
Maybe they’re right…

I started asking people close to me, “Is this wrong? Is it just me?” I wasn’t seeking perspective. I was seeking permission. And slowly, I surrendered my voice without even realizing it.

I let other people define me—what I could want, what I deserved, how I should feel.

One partner told me,

“You’re worthless.”
“You should be happy someone wants to love you.”
“No one will ever love you the way I do.”

In my career, I asked to be part of company program that paid for a PMP. I brought it up during performance reviews—multiple times. I was met with nods and promises. Then silence. Seeing other take it before me.

Eventually, I left the company. And on the way out, they told me,

“Well, you never said you wanted it.”

I left wondering, Did I not speak loud enough? Did I not matter enough to be heard?

The Awakening

At some point, I had to choose: Would I keep living under someone else’s version of me? Or would I start building my own?

The path that was paved for me was led with obedience, silence, and self-sacrifice. It was the sole reason why my parents were able to succeed in their life. They survived a war, they immigrated to a new country and raised five children who all graduated college. it was a path. A foundation. A roadmap of what others considered “success.” They proved the foundation and path worked. It laid with good intention. But this path laid out for me didn’t make sense.

Over time I realized something: Life isn’t built on a single path.
It’s a web of choices, pivots, failures, and wins.
A mosaic of experiences no one else can live but you.

As kids, we didn’t have that power.
As adults, we do.

So I veered off the safe road. I left the map behind. And for a while—I felt lost.

But that’s where the new path began. The one I created myself.

And with that came a voice. Came clarity. Came power.

The Becoming

There are moments I still wish I’d spoken up. Moments I regret biting my tongue. But those moments shaped me. They made my voice worth fighting for.

Because life isn’t about being right all the time.
It’s about the small moments—the quiet conversations, the subtle shifts, the choices that shape who we become. For me, life is all about understanding, learning, and experiencing.

I still second-guess myself. In life. In work. In relationships. But now I know the difference between self-awareness and self-abandonment. There is a difference between seeking insight and seeking approval.

So, am I crazy to think this way?

No.

I’m just finally thinking for myself.